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Built as a playground for society children in the late 19th century, the Vale has been neglected, and is overgrown with foliage and the kind of giant, mutant weeds that can only grow from urban soil. Although a group is raising money to renovate the Vale, it has survived much of the constant cycle of renewal in New York unscathed, so much so that wandering into it might give anyone the cinematic feeling of stepping back in time. This naturally anachronistic quality, amplified by black-and-white photography and the dappled light that comes through the leaves just before the sun sets, play into the still, silent gravity of Roma's photographs."These pictures are about a sort of transience," Roma told me over hot tea that smelled like smoke at the house where he and his wife Anna raised their son Giancarlo, located in an area of Brooklyn between the park and Greenwood Cemetery. "We know that light. You know that directional light is going to be gone. You know it because you're alive, you've been in the world, not because you're a photographer."
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What you're saying is logical, and I'm not sure logic has anything to do with it. Let's put it this way—why are people going there? We could make a list. But let's start with number one on the list: People are going there because they want to meet someone. A boring way of saying it would be, they want to meet someone like-minded. But they're looking for affection, for affirmation. It's about a need in their life. That's the reason they go there. And to the extent that I have anything to do with that in my role as an old white photographer standing there with my camera on a tripod, if someone can see that I'm part of that number-one reason, there might be a possibility where it would make sense. They're not going there to be secluded, you could lock yourself up in a closet and be secluded. You could hide out in a crowd. People are not going there to hide, they're going there to meet. So, would you be surprised to go there and meet me? I'm sure surprise was part of the element. But many of the people that I ended up photographing saw me from far away, looped around, and finally decided it was OK to walk right by me, if I'm taking pictures of a tree or something. And I talk to people.
Well, the long history is, in 1974 I lived in a furnished room on Dean Street in Brooklyn. And the other men in this building that was cooperatively owned, rented out the furnished room to me. And the rest of the men in this building were gay men. And immediately I was immersed in that culture. They were all my friends, but one of them, he's the one who took me to Sicily in the first place, his name is Carl Spinella—Italian-American guy, a bit older—he and I were very very very close. He and I would go to this spot. He didn't have a car, so he would get me to drive him and drop him off near one of the holes in the fence on the Flatbush Avenue extension, and sometimes even pick him up. He would bring guys he met there home. So that's the story how I first knew about it, but from the outside.
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Giancarlo Roma: Yeah, I mean, this was interesting to me. I went three times, and remember each one very vividly.This is while you were an African-American Studies major at Columbia?
Yeah, and my concentration within the major was black masculinity. The idea of the down-low, male sexuality and representation were very central to all the courses. So it was, you know, very real to not just read about it but see it in action.Thomas: Look, no one cares about intentions. Intentions are just bullshit. The thing you produce is the measure of what your intentions are, you're supposed to be looking at what you're doing. I want to be responsible. It goes hand in hand that if I want a response from the viewer, I could photograph lamp poles, or… there are things that have absolutely no controversy attached to them.
I had to give myself permission. I had wanted to be pre-approved to be worthy of being loved. I think people are going there to find love, that's what I think. That's what it's about. I don't think people are pushed to a margin, I don't think this is a last resort, the people that are there. If I was there it's because I wanted to be there. Did everyone want me there? No, of course not. One time a guy yelled at me, Why would I want my picture taken? and blah blah blah. And clearly I'd triggered something. But it was impossible for me to be frightened of him, because I don't believe he wanted to hurt me, I think he just wanted me to move away from him, so I did.
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No no no.How any pictures are in the book?
Anna knows this.Anna Roma: Seventy-five portraits, 78 landscapes.
I didn't go along. I realized that it didn't make sense for me to come.Giancarlo: There's no women!Anna: it was just the wrong energy. At this point in our relationship and our marriage, I had started to take it for granted that I was with him when he was photographing. So I kinda felt a little resentful at first, because he was there and I didn't get to see. When he'd come home I'd ask him for the full report. What did this guy look like, what was he wearing? Did it look like I was picturing it?Giancarlo: Because even going is cinematic. That's why I remember it so vividly—each time going is like a story.