The

The
first time I passed through the Hasidic neighbourhood of
South Williamsburg, it was, unexpectedly, on the B48 bus route that
cuts through its centre. I took a look through the window and was
greeted by the unique feeling that’s usually parcelled with seeing
a new country for the first time. Everyone walking down the streets
was draped in a traditional black wardrobe, and the grocery stores,
busses and schools were decorated in Hebrew. There didn’t seem to
be a single person on the streets that weren’t part of the culture
– the neighbourhood was truly theirs until, eventually, the bus
crossed Broadway and into an area that’s more commonly associated
with Williamsburg: one leaning heavily toward something more
hipster. I learned more about the Hasidic neighbourhood, about
their move to the area prior to WWII, about their lifestyle, and
about the growing tension with their artsy neighbours to the North.
The popularity and sprawl of cool, hip Williamsburg was rapidly
spreading South, driving up rent prices and threatening the
cohesion of the Hasidic neighbourhood.

Taking note of these tensions, when I decided to walk the
streets with a camera, skinny jeans and boots, I knew my reception
could be mixed. Wanting to respect the neighbourhood that I was
surely an outsider to, I went about my time there as clandestinely
as possible.

And when time came to put together a photo story, assembling one
that emanated the enigmatic, spiritual yet veiled atmosphere, in
which I first viewed the neighbourhood as, seemed only to make
sense.