The blog for anyone who’s ever wanted to quit this business—and didn’t.
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One Day in September | A Tribute in Images and Haiku
Some stories are too sacred to summarize. “One Day in September” pairs images and haiku to honor the ones who stayed, the ones who were lost, and the ones who still carry the silence.
Powerful imagery and haiku reflecting the lingering grief, courage, and memory of September 11. A quiet tribute for those who still carry the weight.
1988 Audi 100 Turbo Quattro Parked at Brooklyn Promenade – Vintage NYC Car Photo
PREAMBLE
A good part of the internet is no doubt saturated with pictures of American flags, NYC Firefighters, patriotic MEME's and stories of uncommon valor.
For those of you who have had just about enough of all that, I present to you a picture of my old car. A 1988 Audi Turbo Quattro, with engine mods and suspension upgrades, clad in metallic pearl and black leather.
Now for the rest…
One breath. One wrong floor.
You were late by thirty steps.
And now, always late.
Early Morning Skyline - Ektachrome NYC Aftermath
Glass fell like sharp rain.
I just stood there, holding breath—
my coffee went cold.
Lower Manhattan, World Trade Center | Nikon F2, Nikkor 135mm f2 | KODAK Ektachrome 200
Smoke climbed past the sky.
Something inside me whispered—
we’re not going back.
View from the Brooklyn Queens Expressway - Tower Collapse | Nikon F2, KODAK Ektachrome 200
No cries. Just silence.
We searched seven days straight through
what used to be floors.
Smoke Engulfs NYC - 9/11 Ground Zero Wide Shot
Your side stays smooth, still.
I fold the covers each day-
some truths crease softly.
Union Square Park becomes the epicenter of mourning.
Smoke still in my lungs.
They told me not to hold hate-
but it holds me back..
Union Square Park becomes the epicenter of mourning.
Mask over my face.
Not to breathe—but not to stop.
I found your bracelet.
Origami Crane Memorial - 9/11 Tribute Symbolism
They call me brave now.
But I just showed up that day.
I still do. That’s all.
Graffitied H&M Ad Parody - 9/11 Truth
You left me your strength.
I found it in strange places-
a laugh, a cracked door.
Red Sky at Night - September 11 in NYC
Years later it came.
Not debris this time- but cells,
rebuilding in rage.
Manhattan Skyline, circa 1998 | Nikon F2, Nikkor 50mm f1.4 | KODAK Plus-X
Coffee in silence.
The picture frame fogs again.
I whisper your name.
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That Time I Used the Force… and Shot for ELLE UK | Behind the Lens
In 2012, I was broken, brilliant, and about to fake my way into one of the most iconic shoots of my career. This is the story of burnout, blind luck, and how a Canon 1DX with no silent shutter forced me into post-production witchcraft that somehow landed me in the pages of ELLE UK. Warning: contains eagles, French cigarettes, and emotional whiplash.
A behind-the-scenes tale of burnout, brilliance, and blind luck—the day I hit creative rock bottom and landed a dream gig anyway.
Looking from the inside out—with the grim clarity of hindsight, after multiple rounds of introspective dissection and enough mirror-staring to qualify as psychological warfare—I still struggle to describe the man I’d become by 2012. Not honestly, at least. Not politely.
I’d played the role of card-carrying creative professional for 5,326 consecutive days. No breaks. No vacations. No reprieve from the madness. Just a marathon of deadlines, deliverables, and the slow erosion of soul that comes from turning your passion into your paycheck.
Has anyone here seen the movie Home for the Holidays?
Bogey. Par. Bogey. Bogey. Par. Par. Bogey. Par. Bogey. Bogey. Bogey. Bogey. Bogey. Bogey.
Bogey. Eagle.
Repeat.
This, friends, is what forging a career in the entertainment industry looks like. A cruel, looping scorecard where some of those bogeys hit like bricks to the ribs—and they don’t wait for you to recover. Oh no. They bring backup. Ugly, swing-happy cousins with bad timing and worse breath. Before you know it, you’re face-down on the mat, right next to the spot where you were last kicked. You’ll swear the floor is getting familiar.
And yeah, go ahead—say it: “I’ve had enough of this shit.”
Of course you have. We all have. Especially after whispering to ourselves, over and over, that self-medication counts as spiritual hygiene. (Spoiler: it doesn’t.) And just when the blackness starts creeping into your daylight, when the last glimmer of optimism is being smothered beneath the weight of the next unpaid invoice...
An eagle. Out of nowhere.
Your body goes weightless. The fog lifts. And suddenly, you’re standing under a creative waterfall—washed clean by pure, uncut joy. A day’s work that felt like flying. One of those rare, godlike moments when the camera obeys, the team syncs, and the light kisses everything just right.
You celebrate the only way that feels true:
French bistro. Late-night. Your crew beside you.
Buttery entrees. Bottles emptied. Illicit restroom rituals.
Post-prandial cigarettes, flicked with cinematic flair.
If the timing’s right, you might even catch the sunrise bleeding across the Manhattan skyline. It never gets old. It never loses power.
But later—hungover and spiritually gutted—you’ll face the truth.
You’ve got nothing booked. Your calendar is a desert.
And the next paid gig? A total mystery.
THE POINT.
It’s not enough to love what you do. You’ve got to be hopelessly, delusionally *in love* with it.
It’s a dysfunctional romance—your art is a seductress with lipstick smudged and excuses rehearsed. She shows up late, smelling of alcohol and regret, and you… you welcome her like a fool in love.
To survive, you must Jedi-mind-trick your ego into submission. You must romanticize rejection, fetishize failure, and mistake misery for meaning.
Wait—hold on.
Did you hear that?
Sorry. That was a producer friend calling. He’s in town for a shoot. Needs a camera op. Someone he trusts. His guy bailed.
And just like that… I’m booked.
No big deal, right? Just a throwaway gig.
Except—spoiler—it’s for one of the biggest fashion publishers on Earth.
A few weeks later, my BTS stills land across six global editions. The checks clear. In Euros.
And I walk away with some of the most iconic images of my entire career.
So… what was I saying?
Something about eagles.
Let me get back to you.
📸 TECHNICAL SPECS:
Location:
Milk Studios, NYC – 20,000 sq. ft. daylight studio (AKA the suntrap of the gods)
Camera Body:
Canon 1DX (DSLR, no silent shutter)
Novoflex EOS-Nikon F Adapter
Workaround:
Due to set restrictions, I couldn’t shoot stills. Instead, I shot 4K video at max resolution, pulled selects via After Effects, converted frames to DNG, de-noised, and up-res’d each final image in Photoshop.
“Was it ideal? No. Did it work? Better than anyone expected.”
Lenses (Vintage Nikon F-mount primes, mid-70s):
50mm f/1.9
105mm f/2
135mm f/2.8
Filtration & Accessories:
Tiffen Glimmer Glass 1
Chrosziel Matte Box
Gitzo Monopod
Dreamy black and white closeup of Nadine Ponce being brushed with makeup, photographed by Keith DeCristo during an ELLE UK shoot.
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Focused black and white portrait of Gucci Westman mid-application during a high-profile beauty shoot for ELLE UK at Milk Studios NYC
Behind-the-scenes profile photo of Nadine Ponce in the makeup chair, photographed during a fashion editorial with makeup by Gucci Westman
Nadine poses dramatically in front of a teal backdrop as the main photographer, David Slijper, captures the moment mid-shoot.
Dramatic black and white portrait of Nadine Ponce using curtain light effect, part of Keith DeCristo’s BTS beauty shoot for ELLE UK.
“I believe every man’s finest hour, his greatest fulfillment to all he holds dear, is that moment after he has fought, with all of his heart, for a worthy cause, and lies exhausted on the field of battle, victorious.”
— Vince Lombardi
Ethereal beauty portrait of Nadine Ponce in a sheer dress set against a vibrant yellow background, captured by Keith DeCristo.
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