What at first glance looks like impersonal rooftops, geometric shapes of brick and tar, becomes so personal as we see the people: three individuals sitting among rows of bright white laundry, two adults with a child in a stroller, a single figure, sitting, arms crossed. And then at the top, the photo suddenly intensifies as we see a boy close to the edge, gesturing to a woman—his mother?
Each of these vignettes of human drama can seem separate from each other, yet the photograph composes them. As Nancy Starrels looked down, perhaps from her own rooftop, she looked with respect, and compels us to be deeper about these unknown individuals. What is that solitary figure on the right thinking? What are the conversations amidst the laundry? Why is that young man so near the edge, motioning in just that way?
—Barbara S. McClung