New York c. 1942

Helen Levitt made this photograph, "New York," with her camera and a keen eye for the city’s spontaneous theatre. There's an intuitive balance here in the composition, a kind of dance between light and shadow, between the grand old car and the bending child. It feels like a fleeting moment, almost accidental, but perfectly framed. I find myself drawn to the contrast between the textures: the smooth, reflective surface of the car against the rough concrete sidewalk. And then there's that sheet of paper lying discarded on the ground. It's like a blank canvas amidst the grit of the city, full of unrealized potential. The child seems to be mirroring the car, their curved forms echoing each other, each stuck in their own way. Levitt reminds me a little of Garry Winogrand, capturing the energy and chaos of city life with a similar sense of humor and spontaneity. But where Winogrand is all about the hustle and bustle, Levitt finds poetry in the everyday. She shows us that even in the most ordinary moments, there's room for magic.