When we videotaped Florence in her kitchen (the picture up on top is from that taping), Adrian lent us his camera and then lent us his heart. He wrangled Florence. Only a man with a heart could do that. Realizing her image would be expression that went beyond her piano she did what she usually did when old pain ached. She got angry, and then strident. But that day she did not destroy. That's because regardless of what I asked her to do or not do, Adrian was on her side. She recognized a kindred soul. Someone not born here but born with what truly is here.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.