August 26, 2026- Written by Phil Gardiner
The Window
"Narcissus with a camera in lower Manhattan discovers he is not alone when passersby enter the frame. A vacant storefront window becomes a stage-- and a mirror-- in this revealing photo essay and love letter to New York City post-pandemic. "
The year was 2023. The pulse of the city could be felt once again around every street corner and along every avenue. A wounded nation was healing, and a city was getting back her sea legs — literally. It was springtime, sunny, midday, with camera in hand, a familiar buzz rose from humanity's throng as I walked along the sidewalks of lower Manhattan.
Quite unexpectedly, after the briefest and least consequential turn of the head, I found myself staring back at a reflection. Standing opposite a vacant storefront window, I noticed wide white columns on the other side of the glass, and a tapering shard of light that shone down on me from behind. Then without a word, the first passersby moved through the frame — unaware, unpretentious, and unposed. My attention held. And for the next 60-90 minutes, I bore witness to the living, breathing, moving interplay of random souls on their journey from one place to another — the city relearning to walk again, one stranger, one stride, at a time. A mini migration of sorts, yes.
The first nine of these photographs, curated into three groups of three, were submitted for a 2025 NYFA grant. The six that follow didn't make that cut, but belong to the same 60-90 minutes, the same window, the same curiosity.
The Stage
I curated the photographs into groups of three. The window becomes a stage — someone enters from one side, crosses, and exits the other. Where are they going? What are their stories?
Act 1: The Mailman-The mailman enters from stage right, pushing his cart past the frame.
Act 2: The Texting Couple-The texting couple enters from stage left, heads down, half in the conversation on the screen and half in the one beside them.
Act 3: The Green Cap- The green cap guy enters from stage right, in step with the woman beside him.
Act 4: Woman Wearing Boots- By this point I was done; camera coming down, but not packed. I hadn’t moved more than 3 feet and she walked through the frame, entering from stage right, and I stayed a beat longer than I'd planned. My own position in these three shots gives it away: I'm angled toward the door, already halfway between leaving and staying. Which raises the question I keep returning to: who is actually watching whom?
Act 5: The Red Bag- I see a guy carrying a red bag. In 4 seconds I relocate in front of my original window when he enters from stage right again, — two bags in hand, somewhere to be.
A Photograph Stops Time
A photograph preserves a single moment. But the people in these photographs were moving through time — it's visible in their changing positions from frame to frame. You, the viewer, stand still. So do I, in front of you.
Where are you standing while you look at these photos? Are you inside the store, looking out? And how do you feel knowing the camera is pointed directly at you? As you look, do you catch your own reflection in the glass?
The Window Is Also a Mirror
Windows symbolize transparency — a way of seeing through and into something, or someone. "Eyes are the window to the soul" comes to mind. Mirrors, on the other hand, symbolize spiritual growth and psychological depth; they reflect who we think we are.
In this series, photographed in front of a random, vacant retail window in lower Manhattan, the window is also a mirror. The camera in the hands of a master becomes a tool of the voyeur — and a vehicle for the lessons we learn, over and over and over again.