Is that soapy water staring at me? Is that a banana peel or a jaunty old man? These are some of the questions you may encounter when pondering the latest body of work from photographer Ner Beck. Come on down to check out for yourself Ner Beck's dazzlingly colorful exhibit Looking Up, Down & Around Town through June 27, 2018 at the Mulberry Street Library (Ground Floor.) 

 

Actually, I never pick a specific destination to explore and shoot in. Going hunting just to find new things to photograph in a street art situation always seems to be a failure for me. I have felt that the only way to find anything that is worth taking out my camera for is to have no discipline, and just partake in visual grazing every single day. Besides all five boroughs of NYC and other U.S. locations, I usually travel to Europe each year and take in the differences and similarities that other parts of the world and cultures have to visually offer. Over the past several years I have also wandered and searched neighborhoods in Prague, Barcelona, Madrid, and Budapest for new subjects to include in my exhibitions. 
 

My twelve year old digital camera, no bigger than a credit card, is a well-worn, beaten-up, half falling apart Nikon point and shoot, with a fixed lens, that has become my daily companion. It reminds me of Willie Nelson’s old guitar, with a big hole in the front, that he can’t ever give up. Remember the best lenses are right within our own eye sockets, ready to scan and evaluate a picture way before we ever hit the shutter. I shoot the originals at a neutral and flat setting to maintain the most amount of digital detail and then build from that point. My goal in color is to grab the viewer by the lapels and stop them in their tracks. I never rely on adjustments as visual tricks, but instead, try to enhance the feeling and emotion of the image, without crossing the “believable" line. Always being careful to stay within the range of all its special qualities that sucked me into wanting to photograph it originally. Most of my pictures are taken on overcast days or after the rain wets everything down, that is when normal color is most intense and saturated by nature. One color experience that hit me at an early age was as a grade school altar boy doing 6 am mass. Amazed by the brilliant and richly colored stained glass, glowing in that dark space stuck with me to this day. Also, in the optimistic 1950s, positive shades of color were everywhere, especially in those big American cars, dreamt up by Detroit, that were put out in an endless choice of flashy two-tone color combinations. When I first started photographing and processing street art back in 1962, I was trained at the Philadelphia College of Art in traditional methods and spent hours in the darkroom. Today, on my computer, I still use exactly the same old imaging adjustment methods, tools, and techniques that I first learned way back then. Except now I can process all my images with the lights on.
 

Almost every day brings a surprise, as the streets and sidewalks get a fresh coat of art options left by city foot travelers. It could be a wiry broom that has swept one too many sidewalks. A sad birthday cake eaten all alone by someone in a dark corner. A little kid’s slipper sadly lost on the way to ballet class. A playground concrete camel with paint worn off by a thousand riders. A dropped banana peel standing up for its rights. And a roller skate with many miles left to go before it is finally retired.
 

As a teenager, I studied painting at the Wyeth’s studio in Chads Ford, PA and gained an appreciation for the value that detailed rendering can add to a piece of art, bringing people to view at close range to absorb the story a picture can tell. Photography teachers who really got me started were Raymond K. Metzker and Sol Libsohn. The graphic print quality my photos now have were inspired by Avant-Garde artist and graphic designer Jim McWilliams, who taught me how to go against the grain, always turn a corner, and travel the opposite path you intended to take. I was always attracted to strong European graphics, (especially Graphis Magazine and Annual) and was also raised on 60s Pop Art and Abstract painting.
 

That happens all the time, usually when I am walking with friends and family, who get a little annoyed with my constant stopping to look and shoot every couple of feet. I try not to be so involved at those times, so those are the pictures that I skip over and “that got away.” Generally though, when I am by myself, I have learned to become very fast on the draw when getting my camera out, then shooting within a few seconds, and in that short burst of time it is usually all over. When I am closing in on something I spot, I actually turn my camera on in my pocket, even before it is taken out and aimed at the subject. Speed is so important on the street, because a cloud can make a reflection disappear, the wind can whisk away a lightweight object in a flash, and someone can pick up or quickly kick out of position a dropped possession. Urban travelers passing by can cast a shadow over a subject and spoil an image or composition. The one tricky component I always try to include are pedestrians, especially with their galloping shoes passing by, ignoring or missing the art that is all around them every day.
 

Yes, when I recognize an inanimate object that has a human face lurking within it they do speak to me. They may talk softly or shout. Some have gentle sweet voices and others can be quite aggressive. Sometimes they speak with humor and happiness, and other times they can voice sadness or anger. All of them have been given names. I always include a comments book and a sign asking “Which is your favorite picture?” then suddenly they are participating in and are part of the exhibit. This is the reason each one has a name listed below the picture to help identify it. Asking that question encourages people to spend more time thinking about how they personally relate to a specific image. I really enjoy this interaction with visitors.
 

My first visit to a New York Public Library was over 50 years ago. Now, I stop by almost every day at my local branch, the Bloomingdale Library on the Upper West Side. I had my own graphic design firm and worked as an Art Director for decades. Around seven years ago I retired and reignited my love of street photography, that I started doing in art college. My commitment to encouraging local artists to share their work with others in their communities started at this branch many years ago. I had noticed that a few libraries were having small art shows in glass cases. So I approached our library and suggested creating larger public gallery spaces for local artists to share their work and talent with neighbors. Well, one library led to another, and after all those years we were able to start large-scale exhibitions in six branches that never have had one. Now there is an endless stream of artists and photographers who participate in these programs, and that have new venues to display and share their talents with others.
 

Over the past few years I have been shooting Sanitation Department street corner litter baskets. You know, the ones that state “NO HOUSEHOLD TRASH” and “NO BUSINESS TRASH” along with a warning of a $100 fine. Well, that’s where all the weird and funny stuff lands every day and then suddenly disappears after pickups. It is estimated that there are over 20,000 of them. Imagine the endless supply of interesting and often goofy photo opportunities at my disposal (Get it?). I plan to display a new grouping of these street litter cans at upcoming shows. Maybe, someday I could have a exhibition at the Sanitation Department Headquarters. I would love that.