AK: Please introduce yourself: What is your name, where are you from, what do you do?
PW: I'm Penn Whaling, a photographer based in New York City.
AK: What is your relationship with photography, and how did you get into it?
PW: I got into photography as a child, and my early work includes some very artsy double exposures of the family dog wearing wigs and angsty portraits of my high school friends enacting various Velvet Underground lyrics. I picked photography back up as an adult when I found myself unemployed with a lot of free time on my hands, so I started walking around the city every day taking pictures.
AK: What do you think triggers you to photograph in a certain moment? Is it planned or solely driven by intuition?
PW: For me, photography is a fairly deliberate process. I spend a lot of time walking around the city and scouting locations, keeping a running list of structures I want to photograph. I then revisit a site during the right time of day and year when the light will fall just right on the building's facade. Once I've fiddled with my tripod and tilt-shift, getting the composition just so, it's a pretty intuitive process. I just stand there and wait for a yellow cab or interesting people walking by to help bring the scene to life.
AK: What is the story you want your pictures to tell?
PW: To be a New Yorker is to be unable to walk by a spot without pointing out what used to be there. The city is always changing. I want to document that change, showing the palimpsest of successive layers of transformation through my work. There's been a lot of new development in the city in recent years, so I want to capture that in context, showing what that shiny new building looks like next to its older neighbor. Sometimes that juxtaposition is jarring and awkward, but sometimes these radically different styles peacefully coexist side by side. They serve as a reminder that there's space in the city for everyone, which I think is important, as much of the recent development has catered to certain very affluent consumer segments, spurring hyper-gentrification and displacement.
AK: Which city would you like to visit the most, and why?
PW: I would love to visit El Alto in Bolivia to see Freddy Mamani's Neo-Andean architecture in person. I awestruck by the way he celebrates indigenous culture with such exuberance in these incredible kaleidoscopic buildings. He has singlehandedly transformed the entire aesthetic of that city.
AK: What is your personal relationship to cities, and how do you perceive them as places in general?
PW: I didn't grow up in the city, but I've spent my entire adult life here, and I love it with all the passion of a convert. Reading Holly Whyte's studies of urban spaces and how people interact with them helped me understand how cities work. He taught me the steps of the intricate dance that all city dwellers perform on a daily basis. When I'm out shooting, watching people walk by, I feel like I am really able to appreciate that dance.
AK: If you could travel back/forth in time, what advice would you give your younger/older self?
PW: That seems like a paradox that I would not want to mess with, so I would probably tell my younger self not to time travel.
AK: What do you prefer saying: «to take a photograph» or to «make a photograph», and why?
PW: In English, it's much more common to say «take a photo,» but I like the idea of «making a photo,» since «taking» implies some element of theft. I hope my work is more of an act of co-creation.
AK: What is the most interesting experience you have had while photographing?
PW: This is the opposite of an interesting experience, but the act of photographing has given me a newfound appreciation for the mundane. Standing there, being entirely focused on the scene in front of me is almost like a form of meditation or therapy. I notice things I'd never paid any attention to before, like the moment at dusk when the streetlights come on and the whole city becomes magic.
AK: If it wasn’t for photography, what would you be interested in doing instead?
PW: During quarantine, I tried to teach myself graphic design since it was something I could do at home, but it wasn't the same. I need to be walking around the city.
AK: How would you describe one of your pictures to a blind person?
PW: Sunday morning sunlight hitting a sleepy brick building sandwiched between two taller ones, taxis honking at a double-parked delivery truck, a woman walking a little white dog, the smell of hot garbage wafting in the air.
AK: What are you currently working on, and—if there is—what is your next project or journey?
PW: I've been working on a series called «Still Here». During the pandemic, I was basically stuck within walking distance of my apartment in Queens for months. Once I got vaccinated and felt comfortable riding the subway again, I started going back into the city. I'd never gone that long without going to Manhattan—I'd been commuting five days a week for over 15 years—so it was definitely surreal to emerge from the 7 train into Grand Central and see that everything was, in fact, still there. The city looked the same yet felt strangely new. I found myself drawn to the amazing old buildings and stubborn little architectural holdouts that dot the city. New York was badly hit during the early stages of the pandemic, so there was something so comforting in seeing these buildings that had survived previous periods of disruption. These buildings were powerful visual reminders of the resilience and grit of previous generations of New Yorkers.
AK: Thank you, Penn!
If you have a project that you would like to present on this platform, please feel free to share it using the submission form.
Photography: Penn Whaling
Location: New York City, New York, USA
AK: Please introduce yourself: What is your name, where are you from, what do you do?
PW: I'm Penn Whaling, a photographer based in New York City.
AK: What is your relationship with photography, and how did you get into it?
PW: I got into photography as a child, and my early work includes some very artsy double exposures of the family dog wearing wigs and angsty portraits of my high school friends enacting various Velvet Underground lyrics. I picked photography back up as an adult when I found myself unemployed with a lot of free time on my hands, so I started walking around the city every day taking pictures.
AK: What do you think triggers you to photograph in a certain moment? Is it planned or solely driven by intuition?
PW: For me, photography is a fairly deliberate process. I spend a lot of time walking around the city and scouting locations, keeping a running list of structures I want to photograph. I then revisit a site during the right time of day and year when the light will fall just right on the building's facade. Once I've fiddled with my tripod and tilt-shift, getting the composition just so, it's a pretty intuitive process. I just stand there and wait for a yellow cab or interesting people walking by to help bring the scene to life.
AK: What is the story you want your pictures to tell?
PW: To be a New Yorker is to be unable to walk by a spot without pointing out what used to be there. The city is always changing. I want to document that change, showing the palimpsest of successive layers of transformation through my work. There's been a lot of new development in the city in recent years, so I want to capture that in context, showing what that shiny new building looks like next to its older neighbor. Sometimes that juxtaposition is jarring and awkward, but sometimes these radically different styles peacefully coexist side by side. They serve as a reminder that there's space in the city for everyone, which I think is important, as much of the recent development has catered to certain very affluent consumer segments, spurring hyper-gentrification and displacement.
AK: Which city would you like to visit the most, and why?
PW: I would love to visit El Alto in Bolivia to see Freddy Mamani's Neo-Andean architecture in person. I awestruck by the way he celebrates indigenous culture with such exuberance in these incredible kaleidoscopic buildings. He has singlehandedly transformed the entire aesthetic of that city.
AK: What is your personal relationship to cities, and how do you perceive them as places in general?
PW: I didn't grow up in the city, but I've spent my entire adult life here, and I love it with all the passion of a convert. Reading Holly Whyte's studies of urban spaces and how people interact with them helped me understand how cities work. He taught me the steps of the intricate dance that all city dwellers perform on a daily basis. When I'm out shooting, watching people walk by, I feel like I am really able to appreciate that dance.
AK: If you could travel back/forth in time, what advice would you give your younger/older self?
PW: That seems like a paradox that I would not want to mess with, so I would probably tell my younger self not to time travel.
AK: What do you prefer saying: «to take a photograph» or to «make a photograph», and why?
PW: In English, it's much more common to say «take a photo,» but I like the idea of «making a photo,» since «taking» implies some element of theft. I hope my work is more of an act of co-creation.
AK: What is the most interesting experience you have had while photographing?
PW: This is the opposite of an interesting experience, but the act of photographing has given me a newfound appreciation for the mundane. Standing there, being entirely focused on the scene in front of me is almost like a form of meditation or therapy. I notice things I'd never paid any attention to before, like the moment at dusk when the streetlights come on and the whole city becomes magic.
AK: If it wasn’t for photography, what would you be interested in doing instead?
PW: During quarantine, I tried to teach myself graphic design since it was something I could do at home, but it wasn't the same. I need to be walking around the city.
AK: How would you describe one of your pictures to a blind person?
PW: Sunday morning sunlight hitting a sleepy brick building sandwiched between two taller ones, taxis honking at a double-parked delivery truck, a woman walking a little white dog, the smell of hot garbage wafting in the air.
AK: What are you currently working on, and—if there is—what is your next project or journey?
PW: I've been working on a series called «Still Here». During the pandemic, I was basically stuck within walking distance of my apartment in Queens for months. Once I got vaccinated and felt comfortable riding the subway again, I started going back into the city. I'd never gone that long without going to Manhattan—I'd been commuting five days a week for over 15 years—so it was definitely surreal to emerge from the 7 train into Grand Central and see that everything was, in fact, still there. The city looked the same yet felt strangely new. I found myself drawn to the amazing old buildings and stubborn little architectural holdouts that dot the city. New York was badly hit during the early stages of the pandemic, so there was something so comforting in seeing these buildings that had survived previous periods of disruption. These buildings were powerful visual reminders of the resilience and grit of previous generations of New Yorkers.
AK: Thank you, Penn!
If you have a project that you would like to present on this platform, please feel free to share it using the submission form.
Photography: Penn Whaling
Location: New York City, New York, USA
allcitiesarebeautiful.com is a community-driven, cross-disciplinary platform for contemporary documentary photography and literature.
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allcitiesarebeautiful.com is a community-driven, cross-disciplinary platform for contemporary documentary photography and literature.
News • Artists • Publishers • Submissions • Newsletter • Press • About • Imprint • RSS
