One of my favorite things to do for relaxation is to curl up on the sofa with the latest New York Magazine and a bottle of Honest Tea. Could be peach, could be green, doesn’t have to be iced; just has to be within reach. It’s true that I’ve let my subscription to New York lapse at various times over the years when the tone of the writing started to sound just a little too impressed with itself. But then the wind carries a story my way that just ran and I missed because it doesn’t come to my door anymore, and I reconsider my rash decision and renew.
In my renewed New York this week is a story about Flo Fox, a 64-year-old Manhattan woman catapulted back onto the city’s artistic radar after a chance meeting with Joan Rivers that became part of the star’s movie, A Piece of Work. Fox’s history is that of the true bohemian New Yorker with its trajectory of joys and tragedies and boundless energetic talent that illness could never stifle. At first a costume designer and then a professional photographer despite being born blind in one eye, Fox began to lose the sight in her good eye late in the 1970’s. Diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, Fox nonetheless kept shooting as her disease relentlessly progressed, taking more of her vision and mobility, until she became known, literally, as the Blind Photographer. Her one-woman gallery shows were acclaimed both here and abroad, and she always made for a fascinating talk show guest when she arrived on the set in her motorized scooter and long dark hair, contagious smile flashing.
Edgy, urban Flo Fox photos in New York Magazine
A dedicated advocate for the disabled, Flo led campaigns for sidewalk repair and handicapped accessibility some of which focused, ironically, on the block where she lives in NYC’s The Associated Blind apartment building. Nearly paralyzed, Flo now has an assistant shoot photos under her direction. Using her talent as a tool, an expression, and a weapon, Flo continues to make a statement and a difference. Much like the very special women in my own life. My late mother, also named Florence, was diagnosed with MS in the seventies and lived with it over 30 years. A beautiful woman with a contagious smile in a motorized chair, she preferred Florrie to Flo. My Mom never took any photographs, but she did leave behind a smile. I see it on the face of my other beautiful woman, the gifted special ed teacher who has been known to capture a moment or two in her time.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos are Looking For Art in all the right places
express yourself
choice royce
collaboration on roosevelt island
