The flowers of Manhattan kept me sane during the pandemic. Over the 5 months of the lockdown and gradual re-opening of New York City, they were my substitute for company, and I enjoyed myself (as much as one could during the quarantine) by taking portraits of them. 

Over this time, I learned a bit about these flowers—their names, seasons, locations, and gardens. These tidbits, more than anything else during the pandemic, have stayed with me. While I and others have memory-holed much of the lockdown, I can recall, vividly, where each of these photos were taken.

When I went out to photograph these flowers, I found that lowering the light sensitivity of my camera and shooting with a high sun allowed me to isolate the flowers and make them look as if they were floating in a sea of darkness. It felt to me a little like how we all were during that time, I guess.

Elsewhere in this Issue, I share a fictionalized version of how I went through the pandemic. Here, I wanted to share an actual version. Though, even now, I’m not entirely sure what drew me to the flowers during the lockdown. The flowers were pretty and I saw faces in them—sure. But I think there was something else I was searching and hoping for each time I went outside, looking for new flowers. I think I was looking for images that would help me believe that even in isolation—without the care or connection of others—there is just an inherent beauty in being.

For all those lost, or who experienced loss, during the pandemic.