1,000 Words

Some of my work and a new interview are featured in the new summer issue of 1,000 Words. Be sure to check out Troika Editions they have a special offer on limited edition prints available until the end of July and proceeds will help support 1,000 Words. Support the scene!

The Sounds I Hear At Night

Every night like clockwork I hear these sounds:

Midnight- A rusty metal storefront gate coming down slowly
1am-4am-Reckless cabbies driving too fast over the huge sunken pot hole and scraping the manhole cover at the end of it
4am-Motor City pulling down their rusty metal gates quickly
6am- My neighbor slamming his door shut on his way to work and who always seems to forget something and then re-slams the door



Listening

It was a night like all the others. Empty
of everything save memory. He thought
he'd go to the other side of things.
But he hadn't. He read a little
and listened to the radio. Looked out the window
for a while. Then went upstairs. In bed
realized he'd left the radio on.
But closed his eyes anyway. Inside the deep night,
as the houses sailed west, he'd woke up
to hear voices murmuring. And froze.
Then understood it was only the radio.
He got up and went downstairs. He had
to pee anyway. A little rain
that hadn't been there before was
falling outside. The voices
on the radio faded and then came back
as if from a long way. It wasn't
the same station an longer. A man's voice
said something about Borodin,
and his opera Prince Igor. The woman
he said this to agreed, and laughed.
Began to tell a little of the story.
The man's hand drew back from the switch.
Once more he found himself in the presence
of mystery. Rain. Laughter. History.
Art. The hegemony of death.
He stood there, listening.

-Raymond Carver

Come See What Everyone Has Been Talking About

Come see what everyone has been talking about. Come see what photography on crack and steroids looks like. Come see this journey I have made through our country's streets. Come see what I have given myself to. Come see what I now give to you. Come see what I promise you is worth seeing. This is it folks. Right this way. I hope to see you there.


-Conscientious
-A Photo Editor
-Rachel Hulin
-MTV
-Bomblog
-Inside The Loop
-We Can't Paint
-Jake Stangel
-Art Most Fierce
-Eyes of Artists
-Slow Century Magazine
-Justin James Reed

Thank you my friends for all of the support, kind words and fuel for that fire.


Down These Mean Streets

Photographs by Will Steacy

Opening Reception TOMORROW NIGHT!

Thursday June 4th, 6-8pm
Gulf & Western Gallery
New York University
721 Broadway
NYC

It Has Been A Wild Ride

Please join me for the solo exhibition of Down These Mean Streets. Some how I made it through all this. When I got the phone call early one morning last year and the voice on the other end said congrats you won the Tierney Fellowship this year, I was like, "Shit, I can't believe they gave it to me, they must be as crazy as I am!" Then I thought, ahhh, what a gift, this is going to be a great fucking year." It's been a long wild ride and I must say I am pretty fucking proud of the images that will be on those walls, my heart and soul and everything I got is on that wall. Come on out and have a beer with me.


Opening Reception Thursday June 4th, 6-8pm

Gulf & Western Gallery
New York University
721 Broadway
NYC

Opening Night (My Favorite Cassavetes Flick)

Some flicks from the Tierney show hanging courtesy of my intern Davis. Opening is tonight.

Thursday May 14, 5-7pm
The Tobacco Warehouse
26 New Dock Street
Dumbo, Brooklyn

My Mug Shot Collection

The night I was almost murdered, many years back, after the guys left the store and I was able to free myself and call the cops I then spent the night at the police station looking through mug shots on the police computer in hopes that the guys had priors. I didn't see the guys in the computer mug shots but I did see many people I knew and many guys I knew from the neighborhood. They looked a lot meaner and tougher in those mug shots than on the street as I knew them. Somehow those mugshots made them inhuman and cruel, the guys I knew had smiles on their face and always said what up with a hand shake. For the next couple months I became obsessed with the mug shot as a form of portrait and began collecting mug shots. Here are a sample of some mug shots from my collection.

New York Photo Festival

A selection of images from Down These Mean Streets will be up at New York Photo Festival as part of the Tierney Fellows Exhibition. The opening reception is:

Thursday May 14, 5-7pm
The Tobacco Warehouse
26 New Dock Street
Dumbo, Brooklyn




I am on the final lap of this work. Once the arm heals, one or two more cities need some walking. This project has worn me down and at times I have felt so broken down. After each trip I am not just physically exhausted, but mentally and spiritually, at times I question how I can go on. It's been hard on the soul. I have never been more alone. The killers, hustlers, prostitutes, homeless, insane, addicts, the bad dreams. Before I went out each night, I stood in the mirror, looked myself in the eye, asked myself how bad I want it, then punched myself in the face repeatedly to get hype, every night was a title fight, every night alone in the streets. But I'm grinding till I die. Why haven't you taken my life yet? I got a stone where my heart should be.

"Down these mean streets must walk a man who is not himself mean, who is untarnished and unafraid"
- Raymond Chandler, "The Simple Art of Murder"

I Fought The Law And I Won

Another summons for public drinking. Another summons, warrant, ticket to add to the pile. Whatever. Guess I've got warrants all over the place by now. Good luck finding me. I havent lived at that Brooklyn address for 6 years now bitches! Hahaha. Drinking beers in the hot sun, I fought the law and I won!

Sidelined With A Broken Arm

Yup. I'll be watching from the sidelines for the next couple weeks with a broken arm. So I spent Wednesday in the emergency room with what I assumed was a broken arm given that I was in excruciating pain and couldn't move my arm. I waited hours in the packed waiting room watching the paranoid New Yorkers who all thought they had the swine flu. Half of them had masks and the other half who didnt wouldnt go near them, one big game of keep away, shirts vs skins. I eventually grew bored of this and then remembered that several months ago I sat in this very same seat in the wee hours of the morning with my face mangled and covered in blood after being on the losing end of a bar fight. I have health insurance and pay a shit load each month for it, yet for some reason I have recently been getting bills from creditors wanting hundreds of dollars for the "surgery" I had....funny I thought the doctor called them stitches when she was putting my face back together. Hospital bills? aint no need for that, my insurance handles that...or so I thought. Anyway. Eventually my name is called, I walk through some doors so I can wait some more in a new seat before getting an X-Ray. I get one, eventually, and then eventually the doc has a look. As she looked over my X-Rays I asked what the deal with this swine flu was and is everyone just paranoid? Yes, she told me and that they havent seen a single case at the hospital (Beth Israel). Oh my paranoid New Yorkers I love thee. Maybe the swine flu is some conspiracy connected to the Mexican drug wars and an attempt to cut off ties to Mexico and fed to the Fox News types who have spun this into a spiraling out of control case of contagious fear? Hahaha. But this same doc also told me my arm wasn't broken, gave me a sling, a script for vicodin and sent me on my way. Only to get a call 3 hours later from her saying upon review it appears that, yes, in fact, my arm is broken and that I should see a specialist, thank you, goodbye, click, dial tone. Hey doc you there? Dial tone. Hmm, so then does that mean maybe everyone does have the swine flu?


Swine flu or not, here are some more recent interviews to check out, topics include Detroit, my new project Down These Mean Streets and how I fell in love with the game:

-In(side) The Loop

-Slow Century Magazine

Thank you Courtney and Janna!

Everything Dies Baby That's A Fact, But Maybe Everything That Dies Someday Comes Back

My new project DOWN THESE MEAN STREETS is now up on my website.




Atlantic City

"Well, they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night
Now, they blew up his house, too
Down on the boardwalk they're gettin ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do

Now, there's trouble bustin in from outta state
And the d.a. can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade
And the gamblin commissions hangin on by the skin of his teeth

Well now, everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

Well, I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the central trust
And I bought us two tickets on that coast city bus

Now, baby, everything dies, honey, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back...

Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you forever I'll stay
Were goin out where the sands turnin to gold
Put on your stockins baby, `cause the nights getting cold
And maybe everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back

Now, I been lookin for a job, but it's hard to find
Down here it's just winners and losers and don't
Get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well, Im tired of comin out on the losin end
So, honey, last night I met this guy and Im gonna
Do a little favor for him

Well, I guess everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back..."

-The Fucking Boss

Newspapers

As the newspapers sink rapidly before our eyes, what will become of journalism? Who will record the daily underpinnings of society? Who will uncover the crimes of corrupt CEOS and politicians? Who will the common man turn to for real and in-depth reportage? Certainly not the bloggers or your local 6 O'Clock News anchor. When we loose the newspapers, we will loose hope, we will loose ourselves, we will loose one of the most basic fundamental foundations of this country, the right to a free press. Will there come a time when the CEOs who have been buying up newspapers for years now (one might say the CEOS have given the newspapers several extra years of life, others might say they are the death of the industry) be on the front page of the business section of they paper they own for anything but positive journalism (free advertising)? Will the same CEOs get tired of eating up newspapers and providing a media outlet that is only good for business, and move on to politics? When will they grow tired of being the behind the scenes puppet masters pulling the strings, financing campaigns, and want the full spotlight and become politicians themselves? Ahhh, good old capitalism, and the red, white and blue- these colors don't run, hell no, they slap you in the face and run you the fuck over. Perhaps you know where this is going and where I will be pointing my camera next... Down These Mean Streets up any day now.

Can I Get A Side Of Internet Action With That?

Been working away getting things ready for The Tierney Fellowship show at the New York Photo Festival and for my solo show at New York University, more info to come. In the meantime, here are some links to recent interviews, features and book reviews I have done.

-An in depth interview about my new project on the Bomb Magazine Blog. Alec, thanks for all the great questions!

-An oldie but goodie project of mine is featured on the Italian photo site Urbanautica.

-A quick interview on the PhotoLucida Blog that features the 2008 Top 50.

-I recently reviewed Josh Lutz's Meadowlands for 1,000 Words Magazine.

Nothing Like It

Cold Sweats. From Bad Dreams.

Every night in Detroit mad dudes up in my face. Mad aggressive. I held that wrench so tight. Just waiting. Waiting for good to go bad in that unpredictable split second that it always does. I'm still here, still standing tall, still riding hard.

The Stare Down

Whether it worked or not I dont know. Trying to get that tension, that juice... Sarah and I definitely had a fun time.

Goddamn, I'm Starving And I Just Ate

I'm still in Detroit, but this is what's up in Boston...

The Steak And The Lobster

I recently did some stuff for the show called Viewfinders. I dread listening to myself, but they did a great job editing out the ummms and fragmented sentences, thanks guys for the wonderful opportunity.

Because The Night Belongs To Us

Back in Philly and then off to Detroit. On last legs of this journey through the night...

Smoking Cigarettes All Night Looking At The Past Couple Years

Somehow it just occurred to me that my website is more than 2 years old. Spent most of the night coming up with an edit of work from the past couple years, perhaps it will supplement the night work, perhaps not, either way it's a lot to go through for this workaholic. It was a year ago that I met Timmy "T-Boone" Briner in Marfa. I spent a lot of time there photographing through through the night and into the day.













Stay tuned for a huge website update and tons of new work....

Mentioned. Honorably.

NYMPHOTO Call For Entries

NYMPHOTO a collective of women photographers is having a call for entries for a group show at Sasha Wolf Gallery from May 23-June 6. The deadline is April 3, so dont miss out! Submission guidelines are here. See you in May!

The Pain Of The Long Distance Runner

I just can't stop thinking about it.



Steve McQueen's Hunger is the best movie of the year and Michael Fassbender's performance as Bobby Sands is extraordinary. Fassbender reminds us that acting is a performance in which the body and its movements can reveal the heart and spirit of a character in a language devoid of words (minus the 24 minute "Last Super"-esque conversation, 17 of those 24 shot as a single take!). The actor's bodies and the months of starvation, denial and ability to suppress pain and discomfort until the very end, until running across the finish line, in my mind is a performance in itself. I felt as though Fassbender himself was near death as he lay in that bed. And Jesus fucking Christ, the scene in which the guard walks down the hall splashing bleach on the piss puddles, walks back, then comes down the hall again mopping the piss and bleach back into the cells until the camera itself can no longer endure watching any longer and it falls to the black floor and proceeds down the hall, the screen turns black with bursts of light from the reflection of the lights on the ceiling in the remains of the piss puddles, symbolizing the flickering and on the brink of death Irish prisoners in the British Maze prison during a 1981 hunger strike. This scene with obvious Kubrick, Truffaut and Sam Fuller influences is one of the most beautiful and painful scenes I have ever witnessed. Hunger is performance art and a painting that Steve McQueen kissed and molded into one of the most powerful films of the decade. And I will let someone else talk about the significance of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay....

I'm Not Fearing Any Man, My Eyes Have Seen The Glory Of The Coming Of The Lord

I get chills and tears in my eyes every time I watch this. King passed out after giving this speech. He pretty much knew he was going to die any day, any moment and you can see it in eyes. He left his heart and soul on that stage (among many) with that speech.

Some Of My Most Real And Intimate Experiences Have Been With Complete Strangers On The Street

.....And at times the interaction has only lasted for several minutes. When I go out to the bars these days I am just so bored and sick of all these people. It seems no one downtown anymore has any guts, heart or good stories to tell. These days to live in New York you have to be privileged or successful and......I miss the energy.

Here's to the ones who've tried to rob me, watched the bodies fall to the pavement, invited me for a drink, led me into the alleys and all the others who I have crossed paths with who are out there doing the best they can at this thing called life. I'm up all night tonight smoking cigarettes and thinking about you.

Housing Crisis? What You Talking 'Bout Willis?

There was a great article in yesterday's Times Sunday Magazine about the national foreclosure crisis focusing in Cleveland.

"In the ensuing years, the city's real estate was transformed into an Alice-In-Wonderland-like landscape. Local officials began keeping track of foreclosed homes by placing red dots on large wall maps. Some corners of the map, like Slavic Village, are now so pack with red dots they look like puddles of blood. The first question outsiders ask is, Where has everyone gone?" .... "The county has lost nearly 100,000 people over the past seven years, the largest exodus in recent memory outside of New Orleans Parish."

-Alex Kotlowitz


And to expand on this article, here are some of my images of this housing crisis from New Orleans.