The first three slides in this piece show three postcards of
crowded scenes of New York in the 1960s. The same three
images seem to repeat continuously, but each time an image
is revisited, at least one person or car will have disappeared.
This progression continues until all three scenes are deserted.

When I look at old photos like these, I often wonder how many
of the people are still alive. How would these images look if
those who had since died were no longer in the scenes? How many
disappearances would it take for me to even notice? Whose
specific disappearances would I notice?

On a broader level, I am interested in changes that are gradual
and barely perceptible as they happen. From one day to another,
or even one year, how often can we really say what has changed
around us? A few instances will be obvious. But most changes
will only be apparent in retrospect when they have had time to
accumulate. If we take a snapshot of a crowded street today,
when will that snapshot no longer look like the present?
And how much time will have to pass until future viewers
no longer feel connected to it?

I chose these images because I consider them to be on that
threshold. Like the medium projecting them, they seem to be
drifting from the antiquated but familiar towards archival history.