My mother and father, both immigrants born in Chile, had accomplished an amazing feat. They were able to purchase a small parcel in Cairo, a humble little town in Upstate, NY.
For all of us, it felt like the beginning of a new era. We felt like shareholders, owning stock in one of the largest, most powerful companies in the world.
It was then at this time, when all we could do was stay in our small apartment...
...when all of the local stores we loved and counted on began to close down, where we realized...
...that life here was going to get very difficult for the people around us, for the people that couldn't help themselves, for the people that nobody wanted to help.
It was at this point, where we turned to our place as a sanctuary. Where we knew that we were finally facing the new realities of our situation.
However, even through all the work involved, we took this time as a moment of self-reflection. I saw this in the conversations held with my family, as we all came together with tea, bread and butter (a staple in Chilean culture to tomar un once). Stories, advice and ideas that were completely unfamiliar and new surfaced from the old familiar faces I saw everyday.
These accounts were glimpses into the hardships my family had taken, as they lived through recessions, political upheavals, family feuds and earthquakes. Familiar words that seemed to exclusively describe today's age were used to paint vivid pictures of the past. Through the exchange of perfect Spanish and broken English, I realized that I was living through something that wasn't new, and the only way to remedy a feeling of uncertainty was to use the same old medicine: to acknowledge, love and cherish the life you surely hold within and around you.
Days would eventually bleed into weeks, and then months of nothingness.
When my father had to finally leave to attend work in Long Island, we were left here with no car (a necessary commodity as the closest grocery store is several miles away), a couple of cans of propane, a lot of time to kill, and with many worries for his health.
Every time we would pass by roadkill, we would briefly acknowledge and pay respects towards the unfortunate animal. Although I originally understood this to be another one of those "little kid things" I grew out of and eventually ignored, it became more and more clear that our frequent encounters with death were constant reminders of our current times.
During times of uncertainty, when one can only see extremes of hope and horror on the horizon, it can be humbling to be reminded of the profound and impactful realities we live in today.
These images would eventually make those old family stories seem brighter and sound a lot louder.
Through the long walks, talks and dead bugs, we opened our lives to several hardships, vulnerabilities and realizations. We were given a chance to learn more about ourselves, each other and take a different perspective of the bigger picture.
Born and raised in the bustling streets of Queens, NY, David Contreras’s passion for photography sprung from the intense diversity, eclectic mix of cultures and the vibrant personality of the ordinary individual. His use of candid photography documents and displays the often-forgotten lives that humbly contribute to running entire nations altogether. David’s work asks you to look again at your surroundings and find the electrifying feeling of simply living.
David currently goes to the Academy for Careers in Television and Film located in LIC, Queens. He is currently majoring in Directing in Production.
This project was created in Future Imagemakers in the Department of Photography and Imaging at Tisch School of the Arts, NYU in Spring 2020.
To go to the 2020 Future Imagemakers Gallery, click here.