It’s hard to overstate the impact Flint has had on me and my family. I was born in the hospital a stone’s throw from the small apartment complex off Ballenger where my parents rented (since foreclosed and demolished last year). Like other things here, it exists only as a photograph now.
For eighteen years we lived two blocks from the freeway and downtown, in a house I still dream about incessantly. When my folks moved away, I went back to Flint after my first year of college to paint houses.
By default math I’m a New Yorker now, but Flint is inked into me, a tattoo that faded but you can feel when you run your fingers over my skin.
This trip back felt like a town after the fair had closed, the wind sweeping uneasily along empty streets. By “fair”, I mean the media, photographers and filmmakers who burnished their careers on the backs of the residents, dropped stakes in the midst of the water crisis and moved on after collecting their awards, video essays, art books, New York Times articles and so on.
They’re gone and the city is quiet now. But too quiet. People move like animals in the wild, looking over their shoulders, unsettled. More is torn down, more is shuttered. I never thought I’d see Angelo’s diner sitting vacant.
Yet there are beautiful neighborhoods here, pockets of desirable homes. The Flint Institute of Arts is a gem. At times I felt a quiet envy, sick of the claustrophobic buzz and noise of New York. But these are isolated islands in an untranquil sea.
I met three generations of a family at Westside diner and our conversation eventually turned to the streets the grandmother just won’t drive down.
Tanya, the youngest, was defiant, if fatalistic: “It don’t scare me. I’m not afraid of nothing. If they’re gonna get me, they’re gonna get me in my car or get me at home. There’s nothing I can do.“
Some choose to stay and fight, some have no choice. When I meet anyone who grew up here, there is an unspoken understanding. I keep asking what it is that pulls at me. This searching for fault lines to explain the patterns of the past and somehow, to predict the seismic future.
.
.
.
.
.
.
#flint #michigan #midwest #documentary #reportage
New work for The Atlantic. At the end of December I flew to Traverse City, Michigan to photograph former secretary Pete in a local diner. Buttigieg has a warm intelligence, is easygoing and low-key funny, and gives off the energy of a really good guy. It felt great to be back in Michigan if only for a day. Thank you Liz Sanders for the fantastic assignment. Thanks @richiegibble for the short notice assist.
.
.
.
.
.
#petebuttigieg #michigan #theatlantic #politics #editorial
Matthew McConaughey, from the archive. I’d shot at Von, a Bleecker Street bar with weathered floors and walls, once before, for a portrait of Stephin Merritt (a story for another time, but I made him stand under an open doorway with mistletoe. I liked the concept, but my lighting wasn’t good enough. Sometimes I return to a place and photograph again until I nail a shot there completely). Von is a small bar but full of character. For McConaughey, I’d spent the morning lighting setups with my assistants, and when he arrived, at no-one’s request, he’d generously brought a silver trailer to serve BBQ. After getting dressed, he pried the cap off a cold beer, took a swig and was ready to shoot. I’d made a playlist of easy 70s rock ‘n’ roll and when the Elvin Bishop song came on it all gelled; he leaned against a doorway, took a drag on his cigarette and I heard a small gasp from the stylist. As we hit our cutoff time I was pushing to do one final shot but the publicist was getting impatient. McConaughey saw my test Polaroid of him in profile against a painting of horses in similar profile —he nodded “yeah,” and stuck around to do one more. @officiallymcconaughey
.
.
.
.
#matthewmcconaughey #portrait #celebrity #editorial #archive
Flint, Michigan.
High school buddy Matt outside his apt in my old neighborhood.
Tim & Paula’s Chilly’s on Davison Rd.
Playing in Winter’s yard.
Stripped car, east side.
Backbends, Zoe and Joe.
Lotto.
Bar patron.
You’ve got a friend, Downtown.
Lunch crowd at Westside diner.
Warning.
BBQ grill at the farmer’s market.
Window fix, North Dort highway.
Kittens and cats in Winter‘s driveway.
Night sky over Ballenger Highway.
All American Pawn on Dort.
The Alibi.
My old high school, Flint Central, closed in 2009. Demolition is expected to begin this month.
.
.
.
.
#flint #michigan #streetphotography #documentary #midwest
New work for @vanityfair shooting Teyana Taylor’s The Dirty Rose, her Met Gala 2026 weekend burlesque party at @paradiseclubnyc
.
.
.
.
.
#teyanataylor #vanityfair #metgala #burlesque #party
New work for @vanityfair shooting Teyana Taylor’s The Dirty Rose, her Met Gala 2026 weekend burlesque party at @paradiseclubnyc
.
.
.
.
#teyanataylor #burlesque #metgala #vanityfair
Parker Posey, from the archive. I don’t remember the name of this bar and café in Brooklyn—I’m sure it doesn’t exist anymore—but I was drawn to the tattered vintage upholstered furniture, the tin ceiling, and the tiny bare wood stage for poetry readings.
Parker arrived with her dog Henry, and we spent a half day or more doing setups in the cinematic style I’d developed, Parker clicking well with it, and Henry jangling around as we shot.
When we got to the stage I asked if she could do some kind of yoga pose, and she did, the not-easy supta vajrasana, impressively in heels. When I saw the dappled light over her face I moved in for a closeup, the opening shot here.
Not every shoot has a wild backstory, some are just pleasant memories that yielded photos capturing that moment in time and at their best, go a little beyond.
.
.
.
.
#parkerposey #portrait #editorial #yoga #brooklyn
Tilda Swinton, from the archive. For this editorial feature, we shot on several sprawling floors of an old building full of premade sets for weddings and events.
Swinton arrived to set with a long-haired younger man, and her companion lay on the floor at her feet like a Labrador while she got her makeup done.
When I’d first scouted the location, the yellow wallpaper room reminded me of Rosemary‘s Baby, so I explained that was the mood to capture. And she did. A wonderful collaborator, her presence is a photographer’s dream.
At the end of the shoot one my my assistants blurted out, “Well done Tilda!”
Without missing a beat she replied, “Well done Eric!” The day was over too soon.
.
.
.
.
.
#tildaswinton #portrait #newyorkcity #celebrity #editorial
I will be heading back to Flint in June. Hit me up if there’s something I should come and see. In the meantime, more pics from my last trip.
.
The floating house.
Ethan and Snoopy at the bus stop on Court Street.
Paul, proprietor of Paul’s Pipe Shop, downtown since I was a kid, was a 6-time world champion pipe smoker and lived to a be a hundred.
Going for a big shop.
Thousand Islands at Starlite Diner & Coney Island.
Horses guard a yard off Corunna Road.
My buddy Matt outside his place in the East Village, my old neighborhood.
Freestyle motocross in the empty parking lots off Dort Highway.
Lollipops & Liquor (& Lace) at Little Darlings on Dort Highway.
Kimer on a smoke break outside Tim & Paula’s Chilly’s.
Dinner time at Starlite Coney Island.
Standing in Winter’s yard.
AirBnB review.
Olivia, laughing.
Emma and Zoe’s gymnastics.
.
.
.
.
.
#flint #michigan #streetphotography #documentary #midwest
My photo “Dort Highway, 5:42pm” has been chosen for the 42nd American Photography Annual. This was an image I took late in the day after driving around my old hometown Flint, MI for hours. Sometimes things just present themselves to you.
This year’s distinguished jury included: Sally Berman, Run Red Creative; Claire Caple, National Geographic; Chris Dougherty, Creative Consultant; Amelia Holowaty Krales, The Verge; Daisy Korpics, The Wall Street Journal; Virginia Lozano, NPR; Mark Murrmann, Mother Jones; Evan Oritiz, Airbnb; Emmalee Reed, CNN; Cate Sturgess, Vanity Fair; Amanda Webster, The New York Times; and Cassidy Zobl, Road & Track.
.
.
.
.
.
#flint #michigan #streetphotography #documentary #midwest
Italy.
Applying sunscreen at hot springs in province of Grosseto.
On the way to Abbey of San Galgano, near the village of Chiusdino.
The proprietor of a small roadside Tabacchi and gas station in Grosseto.
The head of David glares from the alcove of an art school in Florence.
Alma, Victor and Paul on the villa lawn, Umbria.
Florence at night from the rooftops.
A man walks through the piazza Garibaldi in the little medieval town of Scansano.
Riding with Gian Marco, the brilliant winemaker of Le Coste, leaving Gradoli for an impromptu jeep tour of his storied vineyards.
A boy stands in the cool of Lake Bolsena at midday.
Relief in the shade of palms at the hot spring, in the province of Grosseto.
Alma runs at dusk at the villa, Umbria.
.
.
.
#italy #travelphotography #tuscany #florence #documentary
