If you’ve been a follower of my site for the past few years, you know that sometimes I write! sometimesshewrites.com is a passion project of mine dedicated solely to my writing. Short stories, poems, think pieces, spoken word pieces etc will all be shared on sometimeshewrites.com. This new website is in no way intended to replace shavonmeyers.com and will only focus on my writing. So if you’re curious, head over to sometimesshewrites.com and see what all the fuss is about 🙂
A NY Daily News article from January 2016 came across my social media feed highlighting a young Queens photographer by the name of Dark Cyanide. The teen captured photos of some of the city’s abandoned subway stations, you can see more of the photos here. It got me thinking about taking risks. I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do this. Sneak into one of the many access points throughout the city, camera in hand, ready to document the rarely seen underbelly of the beast that is New York City. I have an attraction to “dirty” things. Let me be clear, I am a neat freak. I do not enjoy dwelling or working in filth or clutter. I hate when things are not neat and tidy, but I am attracted to ruin. Buildings that have been demolished, abandoned areas, things that were once new and beautiful and in use but have been left unkept and are now abandoned, old and dirty (see my trip to the abandoned Immigrant Hospital on Ellis Island). So what’s stopping me from exploring the abandoned subways that I’ve yearned to document for so long? FEAR. Damn right. I’m scared AF to go down under to not only discover what is sure to be a wonderland of undocumented ruined city jewels but also the thousands of city rats, insects, people (yes, the “mole people”) and not to mention the risk of being electrocuted, arrested or catching something that my body can not properly fight off. This 19 year old and his friends have that 19 year old immortality that we all believe we have at 19 and I envy that a bit. The 30+ year old me knows damn well that I am not immortal and no picture is worth risking my safety, however, there is still a part of me that wants to take that risk.
I want to risk it all and take that literal leap down an old manhole in the middle of an abandoned city block and leave all of that fear on the city street above me. I want to roam the desolate subway tracks capturing the beauty in the ruins below. I want to stand perfectly still holding my breath as I try to hand hold a long exposure shot, because fuck a tripod in these uncertain conditions. I want to leap from track to track as the wind from an approaching train brushes across my face. I want to discover the unknown and be fearless while doing it. Do I want to do this alone? Nope. Am I saying that I’m going to do this at all? Absolutely not. What I am saying is, I do want to flirt with the idea of it. Risking it all. Even if not for this act in particular. Maybe I take a risk and start a project that I’ve always wanted to start. Maybe I risk some money on an investment and see where it leads me while not worrying about the potential to fail. Maybe I film that ambitious new completed screenplay that’s sitting on my desk (actually, this is already happening…stay tuned). Maybe I just jump for the sake of taking the leap, knowing that I’m risking it all, or nothing at all. Maybe, the fear is all in my head and the risk is an imaginary door whose certain defeat is as easy as me taking a breath, opening it and walking through it.
Just breath and risk it all (or nothing).