New York City in the 1960s and 1970s was a place of sharp contrasts. Entire neighborhoods were gripped by poverty and crime, while a bold artistic energy ran through the streets at the same time. Fashion swung from sharp suits to bell-bottom jeans. Music spilled out of open windows. The sidewalks were a constant stream of people from every background imaginable.
Paul McDonough arrived in New York City in 1967 and began photographing almost immediately. He had no interest in landmarks or celebrities. His lens pointed at ordinary people — a woman crossing the street, children on a stoop, strangers passing on a corner. His first series, “New York City 1968–1972,” established him as a sharp observer of everyday urban life.
McDonough worked in the tradition of Henri Cartier-Bresson’s “decisive moment” — the split second when a scene’s elements align into a perfect, unplanned composition. He had a natural instinct for it. A tilt of the head, the placement of a hand, a fleeting expression — these small details carried enormous weight in his frames.
His portraits are direct and unhurried. Whether he was photographing a priest in dark glasses or a blind man navigating a crowded sidewalk, McDonough treated each subject with the same focused attention. The result is a body of work that reads like a genuine document of the city — unposed, unfiltered, and full of life.
Central Park was a recurring subject. McDonough photographed couples, children, and groups of friends using the park the way New Yorkers always have — as a shared living room in the middle of the city. These images capture moments of leisure that stand in striking contrast to the gritty energy of the surrounding streets.
Beyond the park, McDonough found drama everywhere — at parades, auto shows, street corners, and museum halls. He moved through the city like a resident who happened to always have a camera. The sheer variety of what he captured across a single decade tells you more about New York in that era than any written account alone could.
