We are celebrating 15 years — and counting — of stories that are deeply researched and deeply felt, that build a historical record of what the city has been.
We are celebrating 15 years — and counting — of stories that are deeply researched and deeply felt, that build a historical record of what the city has been.
Cross Bronx/Living Legend, on view September 26 through November 9, revisits one of New York City’s most contested infrastructures through new photography and oral histories that focus on the experiences of the people and places touched by it. Our exhibition invites visitors to look closely at images from the past and present of the Cross Bronx corridor. If you think you know the story of the expressway, these images reveal a tale that is infinitely more complex. The exhibition features work from a portfolio Abigail Montes created for Urban Omnibus last year, when she walked almost seven miles of the Cross Bronx Expressway, multiple times, to document a place we rarely see as such. Below, Montes walks us through some of her work in the exhibition — and some images from behind the scenes. She talks about what we saw, how she captured it, and what it means to document a community through a lens of love.
When I was asked to photograph the Cross Bronx Expressway, I was like, “This sounds insane.” I’m a portrait photographer. But here, I’m not photographing anyone. I’m photographing this monster of a structure that looks the same in so many places. How do you make it interesting?
I made multiple runs up and down the Cross Bronx. I was mindful not to approach it through a vehicle, because I think it would be easy to miss what’s really there. I even made attempts to get onto the Cross Bronx on foot, into a lane, to get some images. What I really wanted to do at least once, was walk the entire shoulder. I tried, but it’s intimidating. You don’t know what someone’s going to throw at you. You don’t know who’s going to careen into you. No one’s paying attention to the person who shouldn’t be there in the first place.
There were some places where you could stand — and the sheer sound, the force, was scary. Even though the weather was starting to cool down in the fall, it was exhausting. There were parts where I just couldn’t breathe after a while.
I don’t know if I recognized it when I was photographing, but there’s this very small character in this image, and the large scale of all the cars and trucks passing by her as she’s trying to sell her oranges.
There isn’t any easy access to get to where she is. I tried getting on that on-ramp, but it’s really dangerous and scary. I think it speaks to the desperation of people to be in spaces that can’t be accessed on foot to make their living.
I was very mindful that this was a project about showing people in relation to the structure of the highway. You see how massive the highway is, the buildings, and the people in relation to each other. That is important: how people are impacted by the road.
It was insane to me that there’s this full-sized replica of a flying car at the top of this body shop. How am I going to photograph it? I can’t do it from the street: not enough perspective. I crossed the highway, and still couldn’t see anything because the gate was so ridiculous.
I was impressed that there was no place along the Cross Bronx where I could just slip past the gate. I could not find a broken gate anywhere. So many of the photos I had to take strategically. The highway is not an easy thing to photograph at eye level as a pedestrian. I could have gotten a ladder or a drone, but I was mindful to photograph from the point of view of the person who is interacting with it on a daily basis. I was thinking, “Let me get some wire cutters to cut through this fence a little bit, they’ll forgive me.” I didn’t, so I’ll say it on record. They are paying attention to make sure this gate is impenetrable, at least without some massive effort.
For this photo, I went up the stairs in front of somebody’s house, with their shoes right outside. I got the perspective I needed and took a couple of shots. I didn’t want to stay there too long.
The white truck spans nearly the entire frame. It was like gold. And then you see the guys hanging out in front of the auto body shop by the highway. Then there’s a red car going in the opposite direction of the red flying car. It was one of those times where having courage and just doing it to get the shot really paid off.
I’m noticing on the back of the truck: “There’s more to Prime, a truckload more.” They’re talking about Amazon Prime, but I’m like, “Yes, there are forces.” With the last mile warehouses in Hunts Point and the outer boroughs, they don’t want to be accountable to the environmental rights groups, they don’t want to say how many trucks are coming in, how much pollution they’re generating. They’re hiding a lot more than they’re willing to say.
It’s crazy how sentimental and connected you can feel to a freaking highway. The Cross Bronx is the catalyst for the part of the Bronx history that drives my work as a documentarian of community. It’s this dichotomy of, “I wish this was never here,” and “I would miss it if it went away.”
I love this image. You’ve got the front of a row house, but it’s singular. Where are the rest of them? Where’s the row? You have a man outside cleaning up debris. In the front, you’ve got an advertisement for buying houses in cash with a hand holding a fistful of dollars. Then you have the train, a health center, and massive residential apartments in the background.
I photograph a lot of Longwood and Hunts Point. It’s the epicenter of where I grew up, but also where I work. Both my photography and my practice as a photography educator makes me see the community with love.
This project inspired me to do more topography and urban landscape, especially in Hunts Point. We know Hunts Point is changing, and in ten years, it is not going to be what it is now. I anticipate that they’re going to rezone it and make a lot of developments in what are now warehouses. There’s a bunch of one-story shops that have been closed for a while.
I think photography is an act of love, whether you’re a practitioner or someone who does it for fun, you’re aiming your camera to show others what you think is important, what you think is beautiful. When we aim our camera towards our loved ones, we’re saying to them, “I love you. I want to remember you just at this moment.” Everything that I do is centered on honoring community.
My work focuses on the history of the South Bronx, with the Cross Bronx being a catalyst for a lot of the things that were happening in the ’70s and ’80s when I grew up and are still affecting our communities today. Had it been someone from the outside doing this project, who didn’t connect with this community in the same way, it would have been a lost opportunity. I didn’t make this for developers. I made this to talk about the history and to open up a conversation.
The Cross Bronx was not made with the Bronx in mind. It’s a bypass so people can go to the suburbs. We have an opportunity to reexamine the Cross Bronx with the Bronx in mind: What does that look like? I have to live with this thing, I could hear it in my mind, the symphony of cars and trucks, like it’s a lullaby, almost.
When you ask me the question, “What’s the future of it?” I have no idea. It’s hard to imagine, but I’m hoping that the images open up conversations with people who have different perspectives than me.
All photographs copyright Abigail Montes
The views expressed here are those of the authors only and do not reflect the position of The Architectural League of New York.
