There’s a sadness in the neighborhood today, an empty space; it used to be filled by a wonderful photographer and courageous person named Meredith Allen who passed away on March 17th.
You can’t help but be captivated by the sense of imagination and bravura use of color in her playful, soulful, funny/sad pictures.
They’ve been exhibited around the W’burg for more than a decade; they’ve been shown in Chelsea as recently as this month. Meredith had a huge exhibition history.
There’s the stuffed toys in plastic bags. A series that’s called, appropriately enough, “Forever.”
The melty ice-cream pops—you must have seen those.
And, over the years, if you were part of the scene, you were lucky enough to know Meredith and her amazing smile personally. Meredith was always there taking pictures at openings, documenting things. Sometimes she’d send you a picture of yourself in the mail with a nice note. Right before she passed away, (can someone confirm this?) she’d been archiving the lot of them.
Attention must be paid. The neighborhood is not the same. But we are all happy and blessed to have known her. It’s strange to say it, but it’s almost as if the joy and honest innocence of her pictures “colors” this incredible loss.