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  • Freddy Ramirez

Shook Up, Set Down Gently, Pat On My Head, And Kicked In My Ass

I didn't quite understand why I felt the way that I did standing on the doorstep, having just exited the Morrison Hotel Gallery. But I was in it. Emotional and hyper-aware of what I could see around me.

Morrison Hotel Gallery, NYC

Art Shay. A name I've come across so many times in the last 3 years, when I would see his iconic racquetball images.

I started seriously taking racquetball photos because a friend asked me to when he said, "Don't worry, you'll do fine." Since then, my time gets sucked up reviewing the photos I've taken. It almost always takes me deeper into thinking about individual people and particular moments.

That's probably the only way I can explain what happened as I was taking in Shay's prints. The viewing area seemed very intimate and Aaron and his team belied the initial, exclusive feel of the showroom. So I took my time looking at each print. At one point, I imagined Shay re-viewing his photos and as soon as I did that, the depth of his life experience became somewhat imaginable to me.

Morrison Hotel Gallery, NYC

I wouldn't be able to adequately say anything about Art Shay. I can only imagine that he's a man with a seriously blessed life. And last night, that thought was made concrete as I read more about him.

(There were quite a few other sources with quotes and excerpts from some of his book. But most compelling, is just Googling images of only "Art Shay".)

That feeling I had when I stepped outside on Prince Street in SoHo... I realize what that was. Somehow, I already had a sense of everything I read of Art Shay afterward. And it had a profound affect on how I saw the world around me for the rest of my day.

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