A Moment of Silence

(Eulogy written in response to finding out about the loss of Triangle Optical's sign via Bowery Boogie)

It is with a heavy heart I bid farewell one of my old friends. This friend of mine got me interested in photography all the way back in 2003. This friend and I, we lived on oppsite coasts. This friend of mine, he and I never spoke a word. If he could, we never would have had to say anything, anyway. I say goodbye to the old Triangle Optical sign on Delancey Street in New York's Lower East Side. Over the years, we watch stores come and go, but most slip in and out with little more than an "oh." Sometimes our old favorite haunts disappear and we grieve over them as if they were old friends.

I had never set foot in Triangle Optical. I gleaned its name only after I returned to California, finding it out on a map of Delancey Street. Yet those big black glasses entranced me. The first photo I took of it came out of a surreal moment. I happened to look to my right after crossing the street. No people stood in my way, instead clustering at a far end of the sidewalk. The Williamsburg Bridge loomed up in the background. Most striking of all was the giant "OPTICAL" sign. Within the span of a few seconds, I had taken the picture. My actions were almost mechanical. The setting clicked somewhere in my brain, unlocked something that had lain dormant. My arm moved up to take the shot, and then I moved on.

That entrancing sign called to me like the eyes of Dr T.J. Eckleburg. The years passed, and I always came back to the sign. My yearly pilgrimage always involved a trip to Economy Candy afterwards to pick up a tin of anise-and-coffee pastiles. The little candies would rattle around the tin as I took the subway back to Manhattan. The taste of coffee and black liquorice would be so divine as I strutted through lower Manhattan on my way to the Mysterious Bookshop.

Those glasses followed me around. I made a t-shirt with the picture. I framed a glossy 11x14 print. I made a contact print in photography my freshman year. Yes, I loved those glasses. They held sway over me the same way Fitzgerald’s prose did. Simple elegance, straight to the point but not lacking emotion. Those glasses were just as direct, advertising the wares in the most straightforward way possible.

The looming spectacles last looked up and down Delancey Street in early September 2009. I had to find out about the death through the internet, further reminding me how long it's been since I'd paid them a visit. On a whim, I decided to search for Triangle Optical, just to see if anything had changed. One of the first few results punched the air out of my stomach as if I’d read a dear friend’s obituary online long after the fact. The photos of the naked storefront reminded me of watching the slow demise of the old El Cerrito Plaza as one by one, my old haunts disappeared. The remnants of the "OPTICAL" sign lie twisted inside the empty building that once housed Triangle Optical, far from the proper memorial they deserve. The yellow metal is bent and sheared, and as if it was some sophomoric joke, “ASS” is spelled out with the remnants of “GLASSES.”

How can I say goodbye to the place that inspired me to get into photography? Perhaps this is a lesson for me to get moving and capture the signs of the world before they all disappear.