This was taken in the 1970s, when I was in love with New York. The place was full of soul back then: there was life on the streets, eccentric characters on every corner, millions of people with colourful stories to tell. I mean it’s not every day you go out and see an Easter bunny on a penny farthing, is it?
People came to New York to be New Yorkers, not just because they got a job in the city. It was so alive. I would hang my camera around my neck and hit the streets, knowing that some quirky character would soon come my way. And there I was walking through Greenwich Village when this charming elderly lady rode past, full of smiles.
She was happy that I noticed her. I remember thinking what lovely spirit she had. There is an innocence about her that I still adore – an older woman with a sense of fun, enjoying her life and making everyone around her happy. I also like the McDonald’s sign at the back with two golden arches that look like two more rabbit ears.
It was a classic Greenwich Village image and I was lucky to get it. You have to be quick to catch such a sliver of a moment, but that’s the challenge of photography. You’re like a hunter, alert and ready to pull the trigger at the exact right split second. Miss it and it’s gone for ever.
Nowadays, when I look at this photo, I just see a New York that has lost its heart and soul. The city has became all about real estate and money. It used to be about neighbourhoods, each one like a small town, with its own flavour and personality. Greenwich Village was the bohemian area, with bars open late and jazz. I’m heartbroken to think it’s gone.
I put this image in my book Madhattan, a love poem to the city and all the lovely things that have disappeared from it – panhandlers, the dollar-and-a-quarter haircut, gumball machines and characters with stories to tell. The shots were taken between 1966 and 1990, when I started noticing a lack of civility in the air and it became a place I no longer wanted to live. It’s not just this city, though. I see it everywhere, with people glued to their phones, sitting together in restaurants but not talking to each other. I see this terrible selfie culture, which is so cheap and narcissistic.
I studied sociology and anthropology and now realise that what I’ve been doing with my camera all these years is documenting human behaviour. But I was taking pictures in my head long before I became a photographer. It was the Vietnam war that changed everything for me. I was angry and wanted to photograph anti-war demonstrations, so got my first camera. I went on to record some milestone events, but this shot reminds me that you don’t always have to make political statements. Sometimes you can be lighthearted.
Jill Freedman’s CV
Born: Pittsburgh, 1939.
Training: Self-taught.
High point: “I haven’t had it yet.”
Low point: “Worrying about the rent.”
Top tip: “Be kind to one another and to animals.”
- Jill Freedman’s work features in the Photo London festival at Somerset House, London, 18-21 May; and at the Steven Kasher Gallery in New York.
- This article was amended on 18 May 2017. The original said tricycle instead of penny farthing. This has been corrected.
