Arlene Gottfried: The Wandering Eye of New York

A collage shows diverse scenes: a beach with a man in a suit and another in swimwear, dancers at a fairground, a church choir, and a woman posing.

Some people take pictures of sunsets, flowers, and perfectly plated meals. Arlene Gottfried? She took pictures of life—raw, unfiltered, and straight from the streets of New York City. From gospel choirs to the wild antics of Coney Island, she had an eye for the weird, the wonderful, and the downright human. She was the kind of photographer who could find beauty in a bodega, poetry in a packed subway car, and grace in a gang of breakdancers spinning on cardboard.

But for years, hardly anyone knew her name. It wasn’t until she hit her 50s that the world finally caught up with what she had been doing all along: documenting the soul of New York.

Three people sit outdoors in a black-and-white image. A woman smiles, while a young girl and boy look thoughtful. Trees in the background. — From left to right: Arlene Gottfried, Gilbert Gottfried, and Karen Gottfried

A Brooklyn Beginning

Born on August 26, 1950, in Coney Island, Arlene Gottfried was raised in a place where life was never dull. The daughter of Lillian, a homemaker, and Max, a hardware store owner, she grew up above the family shop, surrounded by an ever-changing cast of neighbourhood characters. Her younger brother, Gilbert, would later become a comedian famous for his squawking voice and outrageous humour. Arlene, on the other hand, would go in a very different direction—though both siblings clearly had a knack for capturing attention in their own way.

Older woman in glasses and a floral dress sits on a boardwalk. A muscular man stands confidently beside her, arms crossed, beach in background.

When she was nine, the family packed up and moved to Crown Heights, Brooklyn, a neighbourhood that was becoming a cultural melting pot, particularly with a growing Puerto Rican community. That vibrant energy, the music, the food, the celebrations—Arlene took it all in. Later, in the 1970s, her Jewish immigrant family settled in Alphabet City and the Lower East Side, two areas known at the time for their grittiness, artistry, and occasional flaming garbage can.

The Accidental Photographer

Arlene’s journey into photography was, by her own admission, something of a fluke. As a teenager, her father handed her an old 35mm camera. Like any self-respecting New Yorker, she took it to Woodstock (because, of course, she did). She later admitted, "I had no clue what I was doing," which, let’s be honest, is the perfect way to experience Woodstock.

Two bikers in leather jackets, one holding a yawning baby. Patches read "SAVAGE" and "RIDERS." Background: trees and street. Black and white.

Somewhere along the way, though, she figured it out. Whether it was instinct or pure guts, she had a way of capturing people in their most unguarded, glorious moments. "We lived in Coney Island, and that was always an exposure to all kinds of people, so I never had trouble walking up to people and asking them to take their picture," she said.

This fearlessness was a gift. It allowed her to photograph people with a level of intimacy that few others could achieve.

Climbing the Ranks (Very Slowly)

After studying photography at the Fashion Institute of Technology (where she was, rather notably, the only woman in her class), Arlene landed a job at an advertising agency. It didn’t take long for her to realise that she was not cut out for a life of selling soap and soda. She went freelance, working for publications like The New York Times Magazine, Life, Fortune, The Village Voice, and The Independent in London.

A man in a swimsuit poses confidently beside a man in a suit and hat on a sandy beach, with buildings in the background.

During the 1970s and 1980s, while most of the world was obsessed with disco, Reaganomics, and questionable hairstyles, Arlene was out on the streets, camera in hand. She photographed everything—block parties, salsa dancers, drag queens, bodybuilders, Coney Island characters, and people simply trying to get by in a city that was, at times, brutal. She documented addiction, mental illness, and struggle, but her photos were never exploitative. They were full of heart.

And yet, despite the brilliance of her work, she remained relatively unknown for decades.

Finally, the Spotlight

In her 50s, the world finally started to take notice. She published her first book, The Eternal Light, in 1999, which focused on a gospel choir she stumbled upon at a festival. It turned out that photographing the choir wasn’t enough—Arlene joined them and started singing gospel herself. She also sang with the Jerriese Johnson East Village Gospel Choir, proving once and for all that she was the kind of person who didn’t just observe life but threw herself right into it.

Elderly woman joyfully jump ropes on an urban street, wearing glasses and a patterned top. Industrial buildings in the background.

Her later books cemented her reputation as a masterful storyteller.

Midnight (2003) documented the life of a man struggling with schizophrenia. It was a raw, heartbreaking, yet deeply human portrait.
Sometimes Overwhelming (2008) was a time capsule of 1970s and 1980s New York, capturing the energy, joy, and chaos of the era.
Bacalaitos and Fireworks (2011) focused on New York’s Puerto Rican community, reflecting her deep love for the culture she had grown up around.
Mommie: Three Generations of Women (2015) was a touching portrait of her grandmother, mother, and sister. It won Time magazine’s Best Photobook Award in 2016.

Her work was finally exhibited at places like the Leica Gallery in New York and Tokyo, the Smithsonian Institution, the European House of Photography, the Brooklyn Museum of Art, and the New York Public Library.

It had taken a while, but Arlene Gottfried had arrived.

Man in shiny pants poses humorously with a large prop in a cluttered room, wooden panel walls, expressing playful confidence.

Arlene Gottfried The Singing Photographer From New York

While most photographers are content with hiding behind their cameras, Arlene had no interest in being a passive observer. She lived the life she captured. After photographing gospel choirs, she became a gospel singer. She was a regular at the Nuyorican Poets Café, soaking in the poetry, music, and performance scene. She wandered the streets, talked to strangers, and embraced the unpredictable beauty of the world around her.

Choir in white robes sings passionately in a church, one holding a microphone. A blue and white cross is visible in the background.

When people asked her about her work, she gave the most perfect answer imaginable:

"My mother used to say, ‘Arlene—just don’t wander!’ Then I started wandering, but I got a camera because it gave it a little more meaning… A life of wandering is really what it all is."

And really, isn’t that the best way to live?

A man dances energetically in front of a "Polar Express" ride at a fair. People surround the area, creating a lively, festive atmosphere.

A Legacy of Humanity

Arlene Gottfried passed away on August 8, 2017, at the age of 66, leaving behind a body of work that continues to resonate. Her photographs are not just snapshots—they are stories. They are moments frozen in time that remind us of the humour, struggle, and beauty of everyday life.

Her legacy is one of curiosity, compassion, and a refusal to let the ordinary go unnoticed. She found the poetry in the people around her. She didn’t just photograph New York—she understood it, loved it, and lived it.

And if there’s any justice in the world, somewhere out there, Arlene is still wandering, still singing, and still capturing the best of humanity with her camera.

There's currently an exhibition of Gottfried's work, here