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Interview with Jay Corcoran |
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Once I started shooting my neighborhood (2 blocks of Houston), I found I couldn't stop, and continued until midnight. I kept walking south until Jay and Greenwich streets when I was finally told I couldn't go any further. I was amazed at not only the smoke and wreckage, but the coping mechanisms of the people in the community; the police barricades at Houston and Canal, the vigil at St. Vincent's as hundreds of volunteers sat idle waiting to treat survivors that never came, the priest that was on hand to administer last rites, making calls on his cell phone with a rubber glove; a young uniformed private school girl burrowing into her mother's side needing protection, a young man with furrowed brow smoking a cigarette from his apartment window, surveying the chaos below in silent anxiety. As each day passed I kept shooting.
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