I took a portrait class about a year ago and the teacher said a lot of my work resembled that of William Eggleston’s — a photographer known for his mastery of taking pictures of the ordinary. At the time, I was not as impressed with the importance of Eggleston’s work and had troubles identifying my work with his. I have since been more receptive and eager to learn about other noted photographers and today felt ready to revisit Eggleston’s work on display at the Whitney Museum of American Art. Eggleston says, “I had this notion of what I called a democratic way of looking around: that nothing was more important or less important.” Every detail, no matter how insignificant takes on meaning. It’s taken me a while to get to this point but I’m glad I see the resemblance, but at the same time, the differences are even more pronounced — a sign that my work says Wendy, not William.

Today my photo group took a tour of Grand Central Terminal (if you call it a station you’d actually be referring to its original name pre 1913 or the current post office nearby). We learned lots of interesting historical facts. Back in the late 1950s, in order to bring in revenue to a struggling depot and in response to the space race with Russia, Grand Central erected an American missile in the main concourse. The missile was a few feet taller than the ceiling, so a tiny black hole was cut to make it fit. You can still see the hole in the midst of the (backwards) constellations and even our tour guide could not explain why the hole was never filled in. This photo doesn’t show the hole but is only representative of just one corner of the ceiling.

Finally, after about a year and a half of living here in NY, I made it to the American Museum of Natural History. It’s said that the museum’s dioramas are the most renowned anywhere because of their attention to detail of animals in their habitats. One afternoon is hardly enough time to see all that the museum has to offer so I’m sure I’ll be back again soon to frolic with the animals.

This construction worker-turned-sun-worshiper certainly lives a dual life. I spoke with this guy (and, of course took some pretty great close-ups) and wanted to know his motivation. I think he just genuinely loves his body but in a very modest sort of way (believe it or not) — unlike the macho muscle men showing off at the children’s playground further down the beach. Probably in most other countries a site like this is nothing new, but here in America, some eyebrows might be raised. Each to their own, I always say.

Yesterday, I think I was anticipating America’s birthday. Without realizing it, I ate my way through the day with an all-American diet. In the morning I had my bowl of cornflakes, then in between shooting many interesting people and things at Coney Island, I had lemonade, cotton candy, a caramel apple, and a Nathan’s hotdog. Back in the west village I continued with a fat, juicy burger, fries, local beer and topped it all with a homemade nestle toll house cookie. Today I think I’ll have sushi.