Eight years ago, when I moved to New York City, I began this series as a way to document and celebrate Harlem—a neighborhood that, to me, represents beauty, history, and resilience. Harlem’s rich cultural legacy and profound contributions to American art, music, and activism have shaped the very fabric of this country. Yet, like places I’ve known before, it has also been tainted by racial and economic bias.
Growing up in the southern part of Manila, I witnessed a similar divide. My hometown is where the native and local communities have lived for generations, yet it is primarily known for its wealthy gated enclaves. Our neighborhoods—full of life, history, and culture—were seen as undesirable, overshadowed by economic privilege. I carried that understanding with me when I first arrived in the U.S. in 1999. The first time I heard about Harlem, it was through the lens of fear and stigma. I still remember driving through Manhattan with friends who instinctively locked their car doors the moment we crossed into Harlem. That moment stuck with me.
But when I moved to New York in 2017, Harlem was where I felt safest. It was the first place in the U.S. that truly felt like home. In Harlem, I found a community where people greet each other on the street, where dressing up means receiving genuine compliments from strangers, where local businesses thrive because neighbors support one another, and where people come together to stand against injustice.
To bring this vision to life, I turned to the palette knife—a technique I learned while trying to break free from a creative rut. The rich textures and dynamic strokes created by the knife add depth and emotion to my work, mirroring the layered history and soul of Harlem itself.
This series is my way of sharing the Harlem I see—the Harlem I know. Through my work, I hope to challenge outdated perceptions and highlight the warmth, vibrancy, and unity that define this neighborhood. Harlem is not just a place; it is a testament to strength and belonging. And for me, it is home.
