Ok, so perhaps you remember me saying that I used to work in hotels before all of this
that you see now. I worked at the W Hotel in Seattle from 2001 until late 2010. I was a valet, a bellman, and a concierge. I held a position called “W Insider” which was like a super concierge
of sorts and a role which was created just for me! I was assistant manager of the hotel
restaurant as well. I thought I’d work in hotels forever. I absolutely had no idea I would be a
photographer, that’s for sure.
I moved to New York City knowing that it would be easy to get a similar job as the one
that I’d held back home. I had nine years of experience with great references, so I should at
least be a shoo-in at one of the seven W Hotels in Manhattan. WRONG! Nope! INCORRECT! I
could not even get an interview. I couldn’t even get a REPLY. A huge slap in the face!
I’ll save the “how I finally got a job at The TriBeCa Grand Hotel” story for another
person’s Context in the future, but that’s where I landed, at The TriBeCa Grand Hotel. I started
as a restaurant manager and LOATHED it. And somehow, I convinced my soon-to-be-boss,
Tommy Saleh, that I deserved to be a concierge. And a concierge I became.
Ariel was also a concierge. And Ariel actually knew New York. Ariel did hipster shit
without bragging about it. That’s how I knew Ariel was cool. Ariel went to cool restaurants long
before they were cool, and he never made it a big deal. Ariel could tell you the only place to get
non-laughable Mexican food in Manhattan, but he’d never make it seem like he’d “discovered”
it. He’d hang out with cool dudes and cool chicks, but it wasn’t the normal NYC ladder-climbing
that so many of my peers were about. Ariel had an encyclopedic knowledge of bars,
restaurants, stores, and a finger on the pulse of pretty much everything else I could imagine.
Music. Food. Culture. Fashion (and not in a “relevance” way.)
For example, I just yesterday texted Ariel because I needed to get a “correct” lightbulb
for this very weird Bless light fixture I bought in 2015 and for some reason, Ariel seemed to be
the only person on the planet I could think of who MIGHT have some image in his head of which
lightbulb belongs on an obscure Bless light fixture, let alone know what Bless is at all.
Ariel and I got along for about one week as co-workers. Then we were at each other’s
throats. Ariel, having seniority got two days off in a row each week, which meant that I had split
days off, and I HATED him for it.
Some years ago, Ariel started a little business. He asked me if I wanted to invest, so I
said, “Draw up a business plan.” He sent me a word doc with about 20 words on it and I said
“This isn’t a business plan. I’ll loan you some money, but if you can’t even draw up a business
plan to make me THINK you know what you’re doing, I’m not investing.” So, I lent Ariel a little
money (at full interest, thank you very much.)
This story is way too scattered. I fly to LA last winter and Ariel, being my bud
(unintentional weed joke) is on my list of people to photograph. We go way back, so I ask Ariel,
now not only just a nerd, but a husband and a father, if I can borrow some of his time (at zero
interest, thank you very much.). We hang out at his shop, “Mister Green”. Ariel shows off all his
weird and rare things in the store. He buys me a burrito (pictured). We go back to his house,
where some rockstar allegedly lived before him, and he shows me more rare and nerdy shit as
we eat our burritos. A few days later we go bouldering.
I could have this story go on for a long, long time, but I’ll cut it short. I’ve known Ariel
for longer than I’ve been working as a photographer. Ariel has undoubtedly exposed me to
countless things which have helped to shape my life into what it is now, and I am appreciative
and grateful for this. I’ve always admired his curiosity and seemingly endless search for that
which should be sought out.