Unveiling the Grit: Luisa Opalesky’s Artistic Lens on New York City

Whether it’s maneuvering on sidewalks or dangling from balconies, the ideal image may leave Luisa Opalesky with some bruises. After nearly two decades in New York, the photographer remains as captivated by a raw city narrative as ever: “I adore characters, and I’m willing to press my cheeks to the pavement to discover them if necessary.” Big City Nobody, her inaugural book, was recently launched by Spotz and it feels like a whirlwind journey through a day in the life, from Interview snippets to the chaos of Canal Street to hazy nights out in the city. It includes writings from Daniel Arnold, Susie Essman, Teardrop, and Alissa Bennett, who came over after the launch with some pressing inquiries for Opalesky regarding photographing unconsenting strangers and idealizing the city’s decay. “Young individuals need to learn how to boldly violate for their art,” Bennett declared. However, Opalesky’s charm makes it feel effortless.

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ALISSA BENNETT: Luisa, do you believe my deep affection for you renders this interview a transgression of journalistic integrity, or is it acceptable?

LUISA OPALESKY: It’s a 33% transgression, and I’m okay with that.

BENNETT: It’s a 33% transgression, but maybe we don’t mind such things anymore.

OPALESKY: No one cares.

BENNETT: I’m thrilled to discuss your new book. How long did you spend creating it?

OPALESKY: It encompasses about five years of effort, during which I essentially began practicing street photography for the first time.

BENNETT: I’ve long believed that street photography has become impossible because, in my view, everything appears subpar.

OPALESKY: You are correct.

BENNETT: Signage appears poor, architecture seems lacking, clothing looks unappealing…

OPALESKY: Vehicles…

BENNETT: I relocated to New York in 1997, and looking at it now, I think, “It feels so gaudy here.” Perhaps it was always gaudy, but I believe you have the ability to perceive the New York we currently have and reveal aspects of the previous New York.

OPALESKY: All of my favorite films about New York are from the ’70s and ’80s, and I find myself continually attempting to revive the elements that still embody that grit and grime. It’s as if I long to see cave grit. Above all, I adore characters, and if necessary, I’ll press my cheeks to the pavement to discover them.

BENNETT: I perceive you as a true New York photographer, meaning you have genuinely committed yourself to documenting this city in its current state.

OPALESKY: I don’t necessarily think of it that way, but I enjoy hearing that sentiment.

BENNETT: When we first discussed this book, you mentioned that your idol is Weegee, another New York photographer. That conversation significantly influenced how I engage with your work. In many respects, this book feels like your affectionate tribute to the individuals and spaces we might prefer to overlook.

OPALESKY: I grew up in Philly, and I always had a desire to photograph my friends in the alleys. I was always seeking the oldest streets, those hidden parts of the city. I’m constantly on the lookout for those pockets of playful, perilous experiences in New York—and I’ll either uncover them or I’ll create them.

BENNETT: Yet, you must strike a balance between your fashion photography or portrait work and those images that may not necessarily have the same commercial value as your usual projects. How do you manage to capture images for income while your true passion lies in depicting filth, solitude, and despair?

OPALESKY: It’s incredibly enjoyable to navigate both realms and reside in that space whenever possible. I think with the commercial projects, it’s essential to ensure I capture both aspects, and if someone isn’t getting down on the ground, I’m getting down on the ground. I can employ myself as a medium to facilitate that compromise.

BENNETT: Is there a particular image you have captured that you cannot share anywhere?

OPALESKY: Honestly, I have a bunch of photos where my backside is aligned with the stars. [Laughs]

BENNETT: A quintessential Luisa self-portrait. Ascend high, go low, skip the middle.

OPALESKY: When I began photography, I was very keen on reinventing myself as this solo performer, a femme fatale, a resident of rooftops.

BENNETT: Elaborate on the rooftop residency, because I know you’re aware I don’t agree.

OPALESKY: Well, I would grab a beach towel and head to the highest point of my rooftop, which was quite an acrobatic endeavor that often left me with numerous bruises. I would capture a lot of pictures while inverted, teetering on the edge, that sort of thing. Your favorite.

BENNETT: I recall when you initially approached me about writing for your book, I said, “Sure, but I can’t stand those images where you’re on a fire escape with your body dangling off and a blonde wig tumbling down.” You said something poignant that resonated with me and became central to the text I composed for you: “If you’re not scared of falling, you won’t fall.”

OPALESKY: You don’t.

BENNETT: Is this a philosophy you carry throughout your life?

OPALESKY: I believe it’s always existed, but it became especially clear to me upon my move to New York. In a tenement, there are typically a maximum of six stories, and I’ve nearly always resided on the sixth floor.

BENNETT: When did you relocate here?

OPALESKY: 2007.

BENNETT: So, you’ve spent nearly 20 years ascending six flights?

OPALESKY: Just look at my rear.

BENNETT: Check out that behind. [Laughs]

OPALESKY: I could easily apply a chokehold on any man in this city with my thighs.

BENNETT: Sometimes, when I view your photos, I nearly have to avert my gaze due to the anxiety induced by heights. Do you ever get the urge to simply step off the roof? One part of my fear is that it only takes a fleeting moment to say, “Screw it.”

OPALESKY: Absolutely, but I’m completely fueled by anxiety. Every one of my projects, all my fixations.

BENNETT: This also seems to be a commonality between us, leading the conversation toward our shared fixation on mortality. It’s not simply about aging. It’s not merely, “Oh, I have a wrinkle.” Rather, it’s, “One day, I’m going to be really old.” We share a fascination with the elderly, with the transformation that occurs when you morph into the very subject you sought to document in your youth.

OPALESKY: I’m excited about growing old!

BENNETT: I feel anyone can capture an image of a youthful person and it appears stunning, as all young individuals look fabulous; however, I believe you possess the ability to discover that same allure in someone aged 85. Luisa Opalesky appreciates a woman living on public assistance who might not have trimmed her nails lately.

OPALESKY: Crooked teeth, perhaps a fungus…

BENNETT: Do you perceive a lot of the photographs you create as selfies even when they aren’t of you?

OPALESKY: Oh, definitely.

BENNETT: When I examine this book, it feels as though, in a way, these are indeed selfies of strangers.

OPALESKY: Well, they damn well should be, right?

BENNETT: Yet, that is your artistry. The entire connective essence of the images in this book is that they all encompass you. Describe this photograph.

OPALESKY: This is one of the women on Mulberry Street near Canal, attempting to sell some handbags and scarves. She’s adorned with white makeup and I wasn’t certain if she was sporting a wig. She was the most stunning person I met throughout that entire day.

BENNETT: But why? That’s my inquiry for you, and perhaps this is the wonder of photography. We’ve all witnessed women just like this; what makes your image of her appear as it does while mine would not? Do you think it’s the connection you feel with your subjects that renders them so beautiful? This image embodies the true alchemy, the
“`real dark sorcery of photography is.

OPALESKY: Total fucking wizardry. That’s the term, but I’m also quite drawn to what appears to be an overlooked type of allure.

BENNETT: How do you perceive the connection between allure and the grotesque?

OPALESKY: I believe these individuals are truly rock stars. If you can recognize that in people, it compels you to them, it makes you desire to follow their path. Just today, I found myself utterly taken by an older woman in line at the post office—I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her brows, the cosmetics, the hairstyle, and how everything was just immaculate in the light. I craved to photograph her, to record her, but I approached her and said, “You are immensely lovely.” She was utterly astonished. She just couldn’t fathom why I would express that. I remarked, “You are staggering. Truly lovely.” I couldn’t do anything else. I could only gaze at her and say that, and in a way, it was equivalent to taking her photograph.

BENNETT: Do you believe it’s crucial to acquire consent when capturing a photo?

OPALESKY: No.

BENNETT: I feel the same. Young artists ought to learn how to boldly invade for their craft.

OPALESKY: Exactly. I mean, it’s a fleeting moment. Less than that.

BENNETT: I think if your purpose is genuine, then you capture something like the image we just observed. This person has never felt more acknowledged in her lifetime.

OPALESKY: I want to plaster that image everywhere around the fucking globe.

BENNETT: Do you feel that’s part of your practice, “I’m going to capture the image of you that makes you feel like you’ve never been so acknowledged in your life?”

OPALESKY: Yes.

BENNETT: What does that signify for you?

OPALESKY: I truly don’t expect everybody to share that perspective. I’m grateful that you recognize it that way. I think it’s a very small fraction of us that appreciate it, and that’s why I feel compelled to capture these images. You know, many individuals would likely be perplexed by that image.

BENNETT: Why do you think numerous young photographers have lost confidence in capturing strangers?

OPALESKY: Overthinking.

BENNETT: They’re overanalyzing, or they’re lacking faith in their affection for their subjects. I believe that when you take a photograph, you should feel affection or empathy, or else why even try?

OPALESKY: And the motivation should be like, “I must do this; there are no alternatives.”

BENNETT: Do you feel that?

OPALESKY: Yes.

BENNETT: Like absolute necessity. You have to do it?

OPALESKY: Must do it. It’s fascinating to reach a stage where you can distinguish the connection with the subject from the interaction with the camera. You begin to realize when you need to simply observe for your own sake, and when it’s time to manifest it into reality, to capture it through your lens. Occasionally, I desire to see it in action; sometimes I want to engage with it as a human being with no barriers to my view. Then at times I need to illuminate that face with a flash.

BENNETT: How do you elicit a fantastic image from someone?

OPALESKY: I believe that possessing a genuine desire for them encourages them to reciprocate. It’s fleeting. It’s at the speed of light, but I think the eyes never deceive. I don’t know. My admiration for people is immense.

BENNETT: What is your approach when someone feels uneasy?

OPALESKY: I breathe deeply alongside them and sometimes grasp their hands. It may sound silly, but it’s true. I hold my elder’s hands when she frustrates me or when her actions are too hurried.

BENNETT: Who is your elder?

OPALESKY: Ethel Sheffer, who is 91 on Riverside Drive. Her computer desktop is absolutely chaotic. So sometimes, I look at her and say, “Ethel, hold my hands. Today we will organize your desktop.”

BENNETT: And does she respond with, “I don’t want to.”

OPALESKY: And she replies, “Okay.”

BENNETT: Oh, I think I would be the one to say, “I don’t want to.”

OPALESKY: [Laughs] No, she’s incredibly laid-back. My previous elder was a bit difficult.

BENNETT: But you must clarify who your elders are. This is something I truly admire in you, and it’s something everyone should appreciate because it makes you utterly endearing.

OPALESKY: Last Thanksgiving, I profoundly missed my father, who is 86. I cared for him for several months and realized, “Wow, caring for the elderly is quite a challenge.” It requires immense patience. However, it’s wonderful because you receive the genuine experience without technology and you hear tales. All I yearn for is a storyteller.

BENNETT: She adores a narrative!

OPALESKY: I appreciate a performer and a remarkable storyteller, and the elderly excel at capturing attention because they love to speak.

BENNETT: Because they can be quite self-centered. Just joking. [Laughs] Not every elderly individual is self-absorbed.However, the majority of them are.

OPALESKY: The ones that resonate with me are. [Laughs] So, I was reflecting on my father and while browsing NYFA, work was a bit sluggish and I noticed an advertisement for Companioning Elders Patrons of the Arts, and I thought, “This is it.” So, I participated in a phone interview, got selected, and instantly commenced work the next day. During the interview, I happened to mention, “You know, I can be slightly dramatic myself and—”

BENNETT: You?

OPALESKY: I can be a bit passionate about the kind of elder I’m searching for. I inquired with the staff if they had ever watched Scent of a Woman featuring Al Pacino. I was looking for a blind, alcoholic, former veteran. That’s who I indicated I was more inclined to connect with, compared to, say, an elder resembling Adam Sandler.

BENNETT: What if an elder said, “Would you moisturize my hands, Luisa?”

OPALESKY: I would gladly do that. I would also perform a manicure. I would engage in light grooming. Light grooming is enjoyable.

BENNETT: No feet.

OPALESKY: I’ve handled feet.

BENNETT: Ladies and gentlemen, she handles feet.

OPALESKY: I have taken care of my father’s ogre-like toes.

BENNETT: Yes, but that’s love.

OPALESKY: It sincerely has to be.

BENNETT: That’s different. That’s genuine love. Speaking of which, I want to revisit your admiration for Weegee, because I think it holds significant importance.

OPALESKY: It is significant. It’s my tribute.

BENNETT: When we initially began discussing this book, you showed me these very old Weegee publications, which were not what I anticipated. We all recognize his crime photographs, but those aren’t your preferred works of his.

OPALESKY: Weegee’s People is my preferred book. It’s linen bound, no photograph on the cover. Images like Bowery Savings, featuring a woman at a bar with a dollar bill tucked in her stocking and her little crunched chubby foot in a shoe. It doesn’t get better than that, ever. It simply doesn’t.

BENNETT: What makes it so special? What is it about her and that image?

OPALESKY: It encapsulates the hustler so impeccably. “I’ve got this, I don’t need anyone to look after me. I’ll damn well find my way.”

BENNETT: I live in a freaking tent. Don’t you worry about me.

OPALESKY: You’ll discover me in a ditch.

BENNETT: I think one part of you enjoys mischief, while the other part feels deep compassion for the miscreant who’s going through tough times.

OPALESKY: I refuse to lead a life devoid of either.

BENNETT: It’s not like New York isn’t filled with poverty and grim situations, but there’s such immense wealth present now, there’s so much artificiality. Identity has grown so singular, so when you encounter something genuine and authentic, if we don’t have you to photograph it, how do we even verify it still exists?

OPALESKY: Oh, I adore you immensely. That’s why I’m out in these damn streets. Riding the bike with the camera is an entirely different experience, because then you can really heighten the peril.

BENNETT: Because you can escape—

OPALESKY: Quickly. I’m quite skilled on the bike. I’m actually extremely adept on the bike. I feel very assured, perhaps overly assured. There are times when the bike is malfunctioning and it’s like, “Oh dear, no brake,” but you know, we maneuver our way through. I also own roller skates that lack brakes. And it’s like, “Why on earth would I have brakes on those roller skates?” They’re speed skates.

BENNETT: And I’m like, “Why on earth would you climb onto the sixth-floor balcony and dangle your head and both legs off it, clinging with a piece of tinfoil and a freaking fake nail?”

OPALESKY: Your Instagram remarks regarding the fire escape photos have—

BENNETT: Motivated you to do it more?

OPALESKY: Buttered my freaking croissant.

BENNETT: Do you believe in the Ouija Board?

OPALESKY: Yes, I certainly do.

BENNETT: Me too. Because they’re absolutely real. If you could reach Weegee using a Ouija board, what would you inquire?

OPALESKY: Oh my goodness. Let me ponder that for a moment.

BENNETT: You only have one opportunity.

OPALESKY: Honestly, I have a general idea of what I would inquire. I’m curious about his dreams. I’d like to understand when he was resting, if it was genuine sleep, and the nature of those dreams — whether they were daydreams, nightmares, or nighttime visions. I really want to know what the hell he observed while sleeping.

BENNETT: I’m going to return with an actual ouija board so we can communicate with Arthur.

OPALESKY: That light just flickered, darling.

BENNETT: The light genuinely flickered. No joke. I hope his spirit isn’t confined here, yet perhaps it’s alright. Maybe this is pleasant for him. Luisa?

OPALESKY: Yes.

BENNETT: I adore you immensely.

OPALESKY: We attempted to create a Ouija board using a sheet of yellow legal pad paper and some post-it notes, but it didn’t function.

BENNETT: I’m planning to bring back a proper Milton Bradley Ouija board from Amazon.

OPALESKY: And I’ll bring along the Molton Brown soap.

BENNETT: Does that enhance its efficacy? [Laughs]

OPALESKY: It’s a matter of aroma.

BENNETT: Goodnight, Weegee.

OPALESKY: Nighty night.