And—again, as with Riis—this acquaintance is earned by way of more than pictures and homespun snippets: the pages of “You Have Seen Their Faces” are split almost evenly between text and image; Caldwell goes on at length, magisterial and morally devastated at turns, providing a real accounting of American exploitation, and of its casualties. We also see, in HONY, the humanity of white Americans who are deemed as “other,” based on mental health or socioeconomic standing. Please try again later as the restrictions may be lifted, or contact your service provider if the issue persists.

Thank you for every time you’ve said hello to me on the street, and told me how much the blog means to you.

Brandon Stanton initially created the book in an attempt to create “an exhaustive catalogue of New York City’s inhabitants,” but it has become a way to read humans based on their expressions and short quotes. The most interesting people in “Stories”—and by this one might only mean the best New Yorkers—are the conscientious objectors. Some may be having similar issues, or be completely unaware of people fighting poverty or substance abuse.

The diversity of his photos, his subjects, and the written content are without a doubt the synergy that provides a great aesthetic appeal. Request Rejected This page is unavailable due to either geographic restrictions or other restrictions in place at this time.This book is based on the premise of the author’s blog, which being anti-social media I didn’t realise, and I guess, most people are aware of the blog and not the book. At the same time, though, I’ve flipped through these photos enough that many of the subjects have become familiar faces. He came to understand that “race” does not fully explain “the breach between the world and me,” yet race exerts a crucial force, and young blacks like his son are vulnerable and endangered by “majoritarian bandits. Thus occupying the vague space between archetype and anecdote, between the particular and the more broadly illustrative, Riis’s photos realized photography’s unique and enduring possibility—to serve artistic and documentary ends at once. The humans in Stanton’s photos—just like the most photogenic and happy-seeming and apparently knowable humans in your timeline—are well and softly lit, almost laminated; the city recedes behind them in a still-recognizable blur.