I tried to make the tags a little less ephemeral. I added a little metal ring hoping it would be harder for people to tear the them down. I went out on an early Friday morning. There were people everywhere, going to work, looking for after-hours clubs. At any given time of the day, someone in New York City is awake and busy. Usually, they are too busy to show interest in what I am doing, which is fine with me.

It was a dark day again. I tried to photograph the tags that morning.



I hung this one near a friend's house hoping he would see it.


Then it started to rain.


When I came back on Sunday, those tags were gone. In fact, this round had lasted fewer days than the original set. One had been torn down, its little metal ring left hanging from the post. But others had been carefully seperated from their wires. I wondered who would take them. Were they very tall? Maybe I am too short. I suppose city employees could have taken them down, but why leave the string behind? Why didn't they also take down the tacky fliers? It would be nice if people took them because they liked them. However I feared it was more of an idle gesture, perhaps random Saturday night behavior while waiting to catch a cab. I imagined a tag shoved into a trendy messenger bag, maybe one with a seatbelt clasp on the shoulder strap. There it would lie, crumpled and forgotten.

Some lasted a little longer:

I was suprised to find this tag at Astor Place had not been taken.






This tag on Bowery got tangled in one of those metal bands with the bar codes.


The light was so beautiful that day, clear bright October light, just beginning to shift to a lower angle with slightly more shadow. Things were gleaming in the light, colors were popping.



This tag was near Rivington Street




It was fun, but I clearly had to become taller.