USA. 1947. Fire in Hoboken, facing Manhattan.
What really caught my eye here was the contrast. In the foreground, you see destruction. The wreckage and remains of a fire haunt the closest part of the photograph. Meanwhile, in the background, is an unchanged city: Manhattan. The sad, destroyed part of Hoboken, New Jersey stacked against the towering silhouette of a bustling New York City is sad, haunting, and a little disturbing. It makes me wonder what exactly caused this destruction, who it affects, and if anyone in that far-off city cares, or even knows. It seems likely that this devastating fire turned someone's whole world around while the rest of the world continues to spin, unaffected.
There are a lot of good textures in this photo. From the misty water coming out of the hose in the bottom right, to what appear to be icicles on the charred remains, to the clouded sky. The heat of the fire and the cold of the day and water are at war, until that coldness wins and the water freezes. The eyes move naturally through the photography from the foreground to the background, which are starkly different. The image of Manhattan is subtle, and I almost missed it. I had to double back on the image and look again and was faced with the stark contrast. There's contrast between the negative devastation of the fire and the positive building city. There's also various forms of water in the photo in the shapes of liquid, ice, and air (the clouds). The dark foreground pairs well next to a lighter background, both literally and metaphorically.
What first caught my eye is the frame within a frame. What kept my attention was the child in the front on crutches. The photo is from 1933: the height of the Great Depression in the United States and just a few years before World War II devastates Europe. It is also just 3 years before the start of the Spanish Civil War.
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