.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }
i’m posting this photo a bit reluctantly.
while walking with friends to lunch in fort greene, we passed by this auto repair shop on fulton street. the business appears to have been here for years, judging by the vintage of the signage. i must have passed by this shop many times, where their services are often applied curbside, right in front, as they don’t appear to have an actual garage big enough for a car. their floor jacks and tire inventory are right on the sidewalk. this kind of shop still exists in many parts of brooklyn, but they’re getting rarer. auto repair shops don’t mix with $3,000,000 brownstones…
anyway, we’re walking by, and i “see” the building for the first time. it’s a “flatiron”, a triangular structure that i find alluring. could it be my love affair with the number 3? i stop to take a few photos and then start to move on, when the owner comes out and confronts me:
- him: what are you doing?
me: taking pictures of this building.
him: you can’t. it’s illegal.
me: yes, i can. it’s not illegal.
[ insert about 7 variations of the above dialog, each iteration more agitated than the last ]
him: it’s my building. you can’t take a picture of my building.
me: yes, i can. i’m on a public sidewalk.
him: why do you want a picture of my building?
me: i think it’s a great looking building.
him: no, it’s not.
me: i think it is.
him: well, it’s my building. it’s illegal for you to take a picture.
me: it’s completely legal for me to take a picture of your building. you can come to my house and take a picture if you want.
him: (while fidgetting with his cell phone) i’m gonna call the cops.
me: go ahead. we’ll be around the corner having lunch.
him: no. you have to wait.
me: okay. sure, i’ll wait. (calling his bluff)
him: well, i don’t want to waste my time waiting for the cops.
me: fine.
we head to lunch at a little mexican spot just around the corner. we happen to be seated near a table of NYPD. i describe my confrontation to one of them to get clarity, but none of them seem that interested in talking to me, and they don’t seem to be very knowledgeable about this issue. probably a good thing he didn’t call the cops if they don’t know what’s legal, either.
over lunch, talking about photography and rights and permission with my friends, i come to the conclusion that although i strongly believe i’m well within my legal rights to take the photos, the fact that the owner was so against it gives me pause. i decide that i’ll go back to the shop after lunch, talk to the owner and tell him that i’ll delete the photos if it’s so distressful for him.
one of my friends says that i shouldn’t do it, that the building owner is ignorant and should learn that it’s not illegal. i agree with her in principle, but on a “karmic” level, i don’t like to generate ill-will if i can avoid it. i know i’m right, but i don’t have to “be” right all the time. choosing one’s battles and all that.
balance.
i do go back to the shop. he’s working on mounting a tire when i arrive. i tell him that i’ll delete the photos if he feels so strongly, but he waves me off, never says a word and his demeanor isn’t the most welcoming. i was a bit disappointed in that i had some fantasy of the owner and i becoming fast friends over this little understanding, that we’d talk about gentrification and the changing neighborhood, etc. but i doubt that’s going to happen.
