Like many Europeans of my generation, my relationship with New York City began long ago. It was a relationship built on cinema. Growing up in the countryside of Northern Italy, New York wasn’t just a city; it was the center of the world, the backdrop to every story that mattered. It was the “Promised Land” where everything happened—a beacon of opportunity calling out to anyone with ambition.
This past autumn, I planned a trip to reconnect with friends and visit the city after a long absence (my first time in NYC was 15 years ago, on a family vacation). I wanted to understand how people actually manage to live in this metropolis. I have dreamed of moving here for a long time, but I needed to see it for myself first.
I finally arrived, and the impact was physical. The dream collided violently with the reality of concrete and dollars. I quickly realized that the New York of the movies—that romantic, accessible playground—no longer exists. It has been replaced by a gentrified fortress.
The realization hit me in waves. It wasn’t just the skyline; it was the struggle for space. As I observed during my photo sessions, it is often cheaper to live in a hotel room than to rent a room in a shared apartment—a lifestyle many attempt, though clearly not for the long term. Gentrification in New York isn’t just a socio-economic term; it is a palpable pressure. It feels like everyone needs to be here, yet the city actively pushes back against those who cannot pay the premium to exist. The frenetic pace isn’t just energy; it is a survival mechanism.
This feeling of alienation shaped my artistic choices for “UNAFFORDABLE.” As I walked miles through the grid, the autumn atmosphere felt like a graphic novel. I realized that color was a distraction. To capture the true essence of what I was feeling—the harshness, the sharp divide between the “haves and have-nots,” and the omnipresent authority—I needed to strip it down. I chose a high-contrast, “chrome” black-and-white aesthetic. This style turns the city into a character: imposing, dark, and indifferent. It emphasizes the textures of the street, the steam rising from the vents, and the overwhelming verticality that makes you feel small.
To document this, I relied on my trusted Fujifilm X100. It is a camera I have used for years, and for a project like this, it was the only logical choice. With its fixed 23mm lens (35mm equivalent), I had no zoom to hide behind. If I wanted a close-up, I had to step forward. If I wanted context, I had to step back.
In a city where everything is condensed into tight spaces, this limitation became my greatest asset. It forced me to move constantly, to dance with the chaos rather than observe it from a distance. The camera is small and unobtrusive, allowing me to capture the raw, candid moments of “Street Life” without disrupting the scene.
“UNAFFORDABLE” is both my love letter and my critique. It is the perspective of an outsider who still loves the visual drama of the city—where every dark alleyway still feels like a movie set—but who has accepted that the price of admission has become too high. It is a portrait of a city that never ceases to amaze, even as it becomes increasingly unreachable.
