DARIN HAYTON

Tag: Covid-19

  • Travel, Weddings, COVID Casualties

    Travel, Weddings, COVID Casualties

    It was early, sometime around 7:00 AM. She sat there swiping at her phone, her bright red dress blazing against the grey stone. The only movement was her finger, flicking up and down on her phone’s screen. Her partner was a flurry of activity, directing the bride and groom where to stand, how to pose, which direction to look. He moved them around the courtyard and the parapet and the stairs. For more than an hour he took photos. For more than an hour she sat there, leaning against a decorative column.

    #210204

    This photo recalls all that we’ve lost in the last year or so. This woman is no longer allowed to visit the city — like me, she was a visitor to the city. Her partner is no longer taking photos of such weddings, luxury destination weddings. Travel restrictions, both domestic and foreign, have halted such extravagances. At least her phone works today just as it did that morning when she ignored the beautiful foreign city around her.

  • He’s Still Alone

    He’s Still Alone

    Staring at his phone while leaning on a pillar, he swipes up as he reads. Maybe it’s an email from a colleague, or a text from a friend, or his favorite site that passes itself off as news. In any case, his phone has his undivided attention. He never glances up, never looks around, never seems to notice that he is alone on the platform. The world doesn’t impinge on his experience.

    I wonder if he is reading about how much the world has changed, about how the pandemic has changed the way we live and work. Perhaps he was reading at that moment how public transportation across the country is suffering from a decline in ridership, nobody commuting to and from work these days. I wonder what brings him out this evening, standing here on the platform, flicking his thumb along his phone and waiting for the train out of the city.

    A lone commuter waits for the train.

    I suspect in some important ways his life hasn’t changed. He was probably alone even when the platform was filled with other commuters. Each of them likewise alone, lost in the virtual worlds they hold in their hands. Eleanor Rigbys.

  • Just arrows

    Just arrows

    In so many ways life hasn’t yet returned to normal. The trains and rail stations are still empty. So I wonder, why did somebody feel the need to place a new sticker on the ground indicating which way to go? How many commuters pass this spot on any given day?

    More arrows than people.

  • 52 / 3 Available

    52 / 3 Available

    The latest issue of 52 arrived yesterday. They look great. I had them printed locally, at Fireball Printing in Philadelphia. They did an excellent job. The print quality is superb. The paper has a nice, rich, substantial feel, making it a pleasure to sit and look through while enjoying a cup of coffee.

    I’ve started distributing them. So let me know if you want a copy.

  • Moon over Ardmore

    Moon over Ardmore

    Friday evening around 8:00pm. Tired professionals should have been driving home or to meet friends at a local restaurant or bar. But instead the street was empty. I stood there in the middle of Lancaster through two cycles of green-yellow-red, green-yellow-red. On one side a Chevy van sat empty with its flashers blinking. On the other side, a Toyota Prius jutted out from between two buildings, its flashers silently signaling to the van’s. Perhaps they were meant to pick up food for those professionals who haven’t been into the office for weeks.

    The sidewalks are empty, as are the restaurants and bars. Yet all the restaurants and bars are lit up as if waiting for customers to return. I feel like I’m in an episode of The Twilight Zone in which all the people have suddenly vanished, leaving me to wander the streets alone.

    Welcome to the new normal in Ardmore.

  • 52 / 3

    52 / 3

    I just received the proof for the next issue of 52. This issue collects together black and white photographs documenting some effects of the current pandemic — the vacant streets and empty businesses — as well as some photographs of the city at night.

    As with the previous issues, I enjoy the way the printed photograph encourages a different engagement with the image. There is no scrolling, no share-on-social-media button (no buttons at all, in fact), no likes. Just a series of photographs that would complement a morning coffee and croissant.

    I should receive the final version in the next few days. Let me know if you would like to receive a copy.

  • Documenting Covid-19

    Documenting Covid-19

    An article/interactive in today’s NY Times, “The Great Empty,” reminds photographers that they can play a role in documenting history. This is the first pandemic we’ve experienced since photography has become widely available and practiced. Sure, photography was around during the 1918-1919 pandemic, but only to a relative few. Today there are multitudes.

    Chairs await occupants in an empty courtyard in Milan.

    I hope photographers who have the time and resources, insofar as they can do it safely, get out and document our current experiences. Our experiences and struggles not just in big cities or famous tourist destinations, but also and perhaps more importantly in the tens of thousands of small towns that are struggling to survive.

    No, documenting our current social crisis won’t produce any income, but those photographs might (especially if printed) serve future generations when they confront and try to cope with their own pandemics.

  • Documenting the Effects of Covid-19

    Documenting the Effects of Covid-19

    I have been thinking a lot about how photography can do something worthwhile over the coming weeks. Or more specifically, given my good fortune to have a job that will continue through the current health crisis, I wonder how I can use my photography to do something meaningful. Is there something I can do with my camera that might be useful for somebody beyond me?

    Thinking of previous periods of social distress and upheaval, photographers who have gone out and documented their world have, I think, recorded something meaningful. Beyond the famous images, e.g., Lange’s “Migrant Mother,” there are countless less famous photographers who have pointed their cameras at the world around them as it convulsed and was wracked by traumatic events.

    It seems that today photographer could produce an incredibly robust record, a record that could be compiled into a useful resource for both our present and the future.

    I am only a single person with a camera, but I can document the effects of Covid-19 on my city. So over the coming days and weeks, that is what I will try to do.