Ian Ference

August 24, 2008

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The best part of going to Hart Island,

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was just trying to get there.

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We left early in the morning,

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as the sun was coming up,

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and pulled the boat up into a patch of trees.

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We walked through the brush,

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over bulldozed sections of earth,

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and overgrown streets.

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Ian prepared to shoot pictures as soon as it was light.

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A friend was telling me about Hart Island the night before, about how it has been a potter’s field for over a hundred years.

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“They keep records of all the people they bury there.” she said.

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“I’m sure they do.” I said.

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Beautifully hand written documents dated back into the 70’s.

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Now the graves are digitally mapped.

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The sun was just coming up,

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and I left Ian to walk through the woods.

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I was careful to steer clear of the clipped lawns. Rikers Island inmates come out here during the week to tend grounds and administer the burials.

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Most of the old structures on the island are falling into ruin.

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Ian said that this end of the island will most likely be leveled within a year,

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to make room for more graves.

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In many ways it reminded me of North Brother Island,

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except for the graves, the structures date to around the same time, and it has been left in the same condition.

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I caught up with Ian in a large building in the middle of the Island.

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“This used to be a woman’s asylum,” he said.

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“They were employed making shoes.”

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A brochure on the floor advertised a rehab center that used to be here in the 1970’s.

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“The love here is so real and so strong it just hits you.” said the brochure.

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“Once we learn to care about ourselves, everything begins to come together.”

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That is basically true.

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We took a break for lunch. It was about 9am.

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I was getting worried about leaving the island.

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It was daylight now, and fishing boats began appearing close to shore.

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Anyone who saw us would know we were not supposed to be on the island.

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I was urging to Ian to pack up and head back to the boat.

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But there was more to photograph.

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Ian said that sometimes families find out years later that their loved one is buried on Hart Island.

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In some cases the prisoners can disinter their family member and return the remains.

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The city has also started to arrange visits for family members to the Island.

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We headed back to the boat,

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and paddled away from the island.

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For the first time that morning, I took a whole deep breath.

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Take a look at Ian’s pictures of Hart Island here.

-Marie Lorenz

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