There’s something about Manhattan in the summertime that has always been a bit of a mystery to me. That acrid smell that hits you, the moment you step off the platform from Penn Station, the steam rising from places in the pavement, vendors hawking hot dogs on every corner, and a slight, yellow pallor that seems to infuse everything. In the summer of 1984 I took the train into the city and captured some images. You can see from the tone of these pictures—that tinge of yellow that permeated my youth. This is what NYC looked like to me in 1984. It has a heaviness to it yet it always retains its sprit. Enjoy.
