Category: Blog Post 2: Visit to the Alice Austen House

This photo I took at the Alice Austen House is a recreation of her partner, Gertrude Tate, and an unidentified man standing on steps out in the yard of Austen’s property. They are overlooking the waters of the New York Harbor and watching a ship, both being out of frame (but the posing making it obvious that they are looking in that direction).

I believe that the photo I took captures community, for we as a collective group had to remove ourselves from our comfort zones and get a little silly AND creative with the posing and angles. We were provided a polaroid camera and had to locate areas around the property that aligned with locations of Austen’s own photographs that she took at the time. I chose to showcase the photo I took for this week’s post because I’m really proud of my ability to nearly match the composition to that of the original. For me, it was difficult to use the polaroid camera because you’re going based off the little hole in the corner to align the shot, and similar to a disposable camera, you aren’t able to confirm its accuracy until after it develops. I’m also proud of the group I worked with for posing as good as they did! It was a little funny and awkward delegating who would take Gertrude’s place (aka “the girl”) for the shot, and I had to go full photographer mode and be somewhat  overbearing by asking them to move their body slightly to the left, to lift their head, etc. I’m glad I was as nitpicky as I was, because the picture ended up coming out nearly 1 to 1, and helped serve as a more effective icebreaker, since this activity required a lot of physicality in recreating poses and moving from place to place around the property. I’m happy I got to know the guys in my group better and that we were able to bond over photography as an art form, even though it was likely more impersonal and casual to us compared to what Alice Austen’s work meant to her.

The photograph I chose from the Alice Austen House workshop is a group photo we took on the stairs of the house. During the workshop we recreated one of Alice Austen’s own photographs where she stood on those same stairs with her family and even her dog, though we did not have one with us. At first I just thought of it as a fun picture to take. But after thinking about it more I believe it actually represents community and belonging.

I think Alice Austen spent her life photographing the people closest to her, like her family, her friends, even her pets, and just all the little everyday moments most people never really think to capture. I believe there is something about the way she captured them that makes those relationships feel important, like they mattered. The photo we recreated shows a group gathered in front of a home just like her original, and I think that alone gives it a feeling of closeness. We were not even that close with everyone in the photo honestly, but I still believe we shared something real in that moment. We learned about her life, worked together to line up the pose, and ended up making our own little memory in the same spot where she made so many of hers.

Being in the house also got me thinking about what it means to have a safe space. I believe Alice Austen is remembered today as an important figure in queer history and her home feels tied to that, to freedom, art, and just being able to exist as yourself. I think it was a place where she could take photographs and just be around the people she truly loved. That is what makes the house feel like more than just an old building to me.

For us it was a museum we visited for a few hours. For Alice I think it was her home and her whole identity. Our photo kind of connects those two things, past and present, and I believe it shows that even after all this time that staircase can still bring people together.

I also think this is why photography matters so much honestly. A photograph is proof. I believe it is real evidence that someone existed and lived a certain way, and that kind of history can get left out of books, but a photograph is harder to erase.

I had some difficulty relating to Austen or her community through her private work. On one hand, I can completely understand messing around with one’s friends and loved ones in private. On the other hand, every photo reminds me that Austen was someone who was relatively well off compared to a large portion of other city dwellers. While I’m glad that her wealth is fundamentally what allows us to view who she was as a person, her work doesn’t move me in the way that Jacob Riis’ How the Other Half Lives does. The photos are no doubt intimate, but the multitude of costumes and photos of large landscapes almost works against that. Regrettably, the content of the photos strike me more so as privileged than anything else. 

Still, it’s important to take into context the time period in which these photos were taken. The photos of Austen’s Larky Life are relevant not just because of what is captured, but also because of when they were captured. It would be erroneous to say that the struggle of the LGBTQ+ community to be accepted into larger society only began in the mid-20th century. Rather, the photos of Austen’s Larky Life display a haven in which she and a group of likeminded individuals were free to express themselves how they liked. Additionally, it’s not as though her private works were necessarily meant to be shared with the public at the time that they were created. Perhaps they were simply meant to preserve memories, or maybe they were statements about her own freedom. Her public works on the quarantine islands and of everyday city life don’t suggest any degree of privilege, rather, they are the works of a photographer capturing moments to communicate a message to the larger society.

The photograph I chose was Alice Austen’s Servicemen of the Life-Saving Service (ca. 1891–1895). I couldn’t be there physically at the Alice Austen House, but I reviewed her website. The photo shows a group of at least ten men around a small boat. What I find interesting is that the photo doesn’t tell us the full context. We only see the men gathered together as a collective.

This relates to Austen’s work because she documented the communities around her, including her family, friends, and the people who lived and worked on Staten Island. Many of the photos she took were of everyday life, spending time with friends, taking playful photos, and enjoying leisure activities. While these moments may seem ordinary, together they show what community looks like. Community isn’t just rallying together for a cause. It’s also built through consistent companionship, trust, and support.

The servicemen photograph stands out to me because Austen isn’t showing the rescue itself. Instead, she focuses on the people behind it. We only see the men surrounding the boat, seemingly preparing or figuring something out. By leaving out the action, she draws attention to their cooperation rather than the outcome. It shows that community is created not only through affection or shared identity, but also through public service and mutual responsibility

In addition, the lack of action makes the photograph feel timeless and uniquely human. If Austen had focused on a dramatic rescue, it would tell the story of an event instead of the people. Instead, she captures the people who make that event possible. The photograph encourages viewers to think about the trust required among service workers. When I think about that, I wonder about all the quiet, ordinary moments that helped them build that trust. It also makes me think about how trust and community shape our everyday lives.

Looking beyond the photograph, I think Austen wanted to preserve more than history. We have so much history well preserved and so many stories we can look back on. But it’s hard to find photographs of people just existing as people. She preserved the relationships that held communities together and she reminds us that even the seemingly mundane moments matter.

During the workshop, I was having fun taking photos mirroring Austen’s when I noticed a large blimp in the distance. It reminded me of the photograph she took of her grandfather on a bench with ships in the bay. We each captured modes of transportation, except hers was of ships crossing across the harbor in 1888 and mine was of an advertising shuttle in 2026.

As I look at the “I.” photograph in the workshop booklet, I can’t help but wonder whether she planned to take it like this, or it was just an in-the-moment thing. Her grandfather appears to be facing sideways, but I’m not sure whether he notices Austen’s presence. There are also the beautiful ships in the background, are they the focus of the photo, or is grandpa? Either way, it seems to me like she is just capturing what an ordinary day looks like for her. She is documenting what she sees, and because of this personal touch, it feels like it was taken to preserve a memory of herself and her family— the foundation of her community.

The blimp sort of feels the same way, though not as sentimental. It’s just a photo of what is present at the moment, nothing staged or planned. Just as the ships in the background were a regular occurrence for Austen, the buildings that span the coastline are custom to me. What stays the same is the waterfront. From 1888 to 2026, the water still symbolizes the continuity of community across generations.

Outside of the activity, there was a photo I took of Alice Austen’s “Street Types of New York.” Originally, my thought process was thinking about the evolution of work— the messenger boy, the shoelace peddler, the newsboy. When getting examples of these workers, I took one zoomed in photo of the street sweeper. All these professions have transformed in one way or another, but the role of this street sweeper has remained the same. The exact same job is being done today, by the NYC Department of Sanitation.

I noticed that these photographs were taken in 1896, so it prompted me to look up when the sanitation department was formed. It turns out, it was established in 1881. However, it wasn’t until 1895 when veteran George Waring was appointed Commissioner that real charge began to be made.

Waring dressed his workers in white, which explains the white uniform the street sweeper adorns in the photo. He mandated this dress code to associate them with the “notions of hygiene,” since high status health professionals regularly wore white. It shifted the perspective of immigrant workers being mere laborers to respectable people who took care of the city.

Although the community was skeptical of seeing local government coming into their neighborhoods, they eventually welcomed and appreciated them for their hard work. There were even Juvenile Leagues founded, having school children be the “eyes on the ground” for sanitation workers. As the kids were often first generation, they were able to help instill the practice of keeping garbage off the streets.

These men were heroes in the community because they cleaned the city, and ever since, the department has maintained the exact same mission: to sweep the streets.

The topic ties back in to appreciation. Back then, citizens were grateful for the work being done because it created such a stark difference in their neighborhoods. The work of the Department has improved so much that it almost feels invisible— I suppose that goes to show how profoundly their job has been woven into our community.

In our visit to the Alice Austen House, we recreated some of Alice’s pictures in the exact location they were taken. I chose in particurarly these two pictures as they resemble the best picture on how much does time changes the same place but still remembers the essence from the past. The picture with person sitting beneath the tree by the water feels reminiscent of Austen’s portraits of friends and community members in natural settings. She often photographed people in relaxed poses, emphasizing connection and presence rather than formality, which was one of the main aspects that made her pictures so unique.

The next picture of her house and the greenery, shows Austen’s sense of home and belonging. Many of her images at the Alice Austen House show how domestic and outdoor spaces intertwine. We tried to capture that with our picture and we can observe how the enviorment changed, such as the nature around it but we can see the general idea stays the same. It’s a portrait of community through environment, showing how places hold memory and meaning.

Beyond the visual similarities, these recreated photographs highlight how community itself evolves while still holding onto traces of the past. Standing in the same spaces where Alice once photographed her friends, her home, and her surroundings reminds us that places are shaped by the people who move through them. We became part of that ongoing story, another group engaging with the landscape, interpreting it, and leaving our own moment behind. In this way, the photos connect also to our community, showing how shared spaces become bridges between generations, preserving memory while welcoming new perspectives.

I chose to recreate the photograph of someone sitting under the tree overlooking the water. Out of all the photos we recreated, this one stood out to me the most because it felt like a place of peace and reflection. Standing in the same location where Alice Austen had taken a photograph over a hundred years ago made me stop and think about what that space might have meant to her. Even though the world around it has changed, the feeling of the place hasn’t. It still feels quiet, calm, and like somewhere you can simply sit and think. One thing that really stood out to me during the visit was how difficult photography was in Alice Austen’s time. As someone who enjoys photography myself, I’m used to digital cameras where I can take hundreds of photos in seconds and instantly see the results. Alice Austen didn’t have that luxury. Every photograph took planning, patience, and effort. That made me appreciate her work even more because she wasn’t just taking pictures, she was preserving moments that we can still look at today. There’s a quote I’ve seen that says, “If you don’t photograph yourself, you die forever.” Whether or not that’s exactly true, I think photographs allow people and their stories to live on. The fact that we were able to recreate images she made in the 1890s in 2026 really showed me how powerful photography can be across generations.

To me, community means having a place where you belong no matter who you are or what you believe. Alice Austen’s photographs made me think about that in a different way. Many of her pictures showed her friends laughing, spending time together, and simply enjoying each other’s company. They weren’t just photographs, they documented the people she felt most connected to. The reading also explained how many of her more personal photographs reflected a close circle of friends and the life she built with Gertrude Tate, even during a time when society didn’t openly accept same sex relationships. The photograph that stayed with me was the one where Alice and her friends dressed as men. At first, it might just look like friends having fun, but knowing more about her life gave it a different meaning. It reminded me that she had to express parts of herself in a society that often wouldn’t have accepted her openly. Looking at those photographs today shows how much society has changed and why preserving these stories matters. Visiting the house with my classmates also made me think about community in the present. We explored the home together, listened to the tour guide, and used Polaroid cameras to recreate Alice Austen’s photographs. We were making new memories in the same places where she made hers over a century ago. That connection between the past and the present made the experience feel personal instead of just historical. I left feeling inspired and reflective. As a photographer, the visit reminded me that photographs are more than just images. They tell stories, preserve history, and connect people across generations. Standing where Alice Austen once stood and recreating one of her photographs made me realize that every photo has the potential to become part of someone’s history someday.

During our walk through of the Alice Austen house we recreated some of the photos Alice took. The photo I chose is of Clear Comfort’s exterior and grounds. I chose this particular photo because it really shows the differences in the physical world that would have surrounded Alice, and that surrounds us. The differences between the original photo from 1891 and the one I took in 2026 appear both immediately and on a deeper level. In my picture the bushes and trees are overgrown and are slightly unkempt compared to the original photo. But what stands out the most to me are the paths and the implementation of a sewer cover. The paths in my picture are beaten and trampled, in Alice’s they are perfect. This stands out to me because it shows the amount of people who have visited the park and her home. The paths are there but, because of all the foot traffic, people veered off the path creating beaten patches on the grass. Comparing this new landscape to Alice’s time, we can see how so few people came to her home that the grass could stay pristine. I feel this is especially powerful because it shows how her art only became appreciated after she had to leave her home and died. So although the landscape now is not as “beautiful” as it used to be, the community that surrounds Alice’s work has flourished larger than I’m sure she could have imagined. Additionally the sewer cover really shows the scientific differences we have that Alice didn’t have. This can even be seen in the equipment we use to take each picture. Mine was taken with a hand held camera that dispensed a photo in seconds. And Alice used a large heavy camera and needed to develop her photos by hand.

 

I visited the Alice Austen House. Clear Comfort sits right on the water on Staten Island, a small cottage where Alice lived most of her life and took most of her 8,000 photographs.

For the workshop they handed us polaroid cameras and copies of Alice’s original photos. The task was to walk the property, find the spots where she stood over a hundred years ago, and match her shots. Not reinterpret, match. Same angle, same framing, same light if we were lucky.

The photo of the two people on the wooden steps is one of them. I am the one on the left. We were working off one of Alice’s originals, lining up the trees, the railing, the position of the bodies on the stairs. Standing where she had her tripod. Looking at what she saw.

Alice was born in 1866 and lived at Clear Comfort with her partner Gertrude Tate for around 30 years. She photographed her friends, her garden, the harbor, immigrants at the Staten Island quarantine station, working women in the streets. She was doing documentary work before people had a word for it. She lost the house in 1945 after going broke and ended up in a poorhouse before her friends got her out, right before she died.

Trying to remake her photos changes how you see her. She was not aiming her camera at random. Every shot she took here was of her home and her people, and every angle had a reason behind it. When we recreated the one on the steps, my classmates became the subjects, but the frame was still hers.

Her community stood on those steps first. Ours followed her outline.