November 30, 2006: Death Takes a Holiday in Farragut
I was riding around the Navy Yard yesterday, and I came to this large, empty park near the BQE. I was taking a shot of some smoke stacks when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. A man was sitting alone on the bleachers of the baseball diamond that bordered the park to the south. I walked over, slowly. Despite the location, all was eerily quiet. I snapped a few shots and stood there for awhile looking at him, and he didn't move the whole time. There was no one else around-- for all I know, he might have been dead. I started thinking of one of Dan Witz's famous silkscreens, the one of the ghostly figure in a hoodie that he did at the height of the AIDS crisis in the early 1990s. That was an allegory for death, for total emptiness and loss. That's what this guy reminded me of, and after a few seconds it began to freak me out. I jumped on my bike and got the fuck out of there-- I don't think I stopped pedaling until I hit Canal Street.
