I am so excited to share these images of my friend Roxane. Although we have lived in separate cities more often than not, I treasure the times when we manage to coordinate—for a cup of tea in Paris or homemade ratatouille lasagne in her Los Angeles flat—never without her constant laughter and magnetism. Roxane is pretty wonderful:
photographs by Molly Gottschalk
I took these photographs of my heartbreakingly beautiful little friend, Meredith Hagner. One of the most talented actors and musicians I know—decided she wanted to learn piano and sat herself down to a baby grand for two solid weeks and has prodigiously mastered the keys to a sold-out-concert-hall-caliber. Meredith is a gem of all gems.
DAVID LACHAPELLE OPENS AT PAUL KASMIN GALLERY <— click here
I grew up on a barrier island that was five miles long, five houses wide, with an insurance clause prohibiting coverage of any property within a 25 foot height of the ground. Wrightsville Beach was privy to floods. A protruding tip of the southwest border of North Carolina, we were the first to greet the incoming storms.
My house stood on 25 foot stilts — the Southern side consisting entirely of windows —it was at once a dream and a nightmare. Summers were spent sitting on the deck, two houses to the left between our porch and the sound; past the two houses to the right the ocean could be seen and heard as it lapped the sand; the smell and sounds filled our living room.
I remember when Bertha hit, we boarded our windows and drove off as four, with two kittens; I looked back at my home and wondered if I would ever see it again. We sat on the highway for nine hours — delirious, my parents pulled over to rest at a Howard Johnson hotel. We had only covered two hours worth of distance. A tornado hit the hotel across the street as we slept.
The next storm, we stayed home. We boarded the windows just the same. We cried, just the same. The storm hit and many of my neighbor’s houses were flattened. My sister and I walked through the streets during the eye … it was the most eerie and fragrant silence I had ever experienced.
The streets were so filled with sand they had to be plowed, as if it were snow.
I walked through my neighborhood in Chelsea this evening, a child of North Carolina, once again saddened by and surrendered to the force I could never control.
(All images from Oct. 25th openings in Chelsea with the exception of the image by Yuanyuan Yang which is from a week prior in the East Village)
