Oscar Berg was an amateur photographer with a poet’s eye.

His small Brooklyn apartment was stacked with boxes of pictures.

The artistry of visual discrimination was preserved in his compositionally-refined photos.

A gallery might be interested in his quirkily original images.

But Oscar the librarian seemed abundantly content with humble obscurity.

Photography was an amusement, a local wayfarer’s record of observations.

He saw the city’s sundry streets through a Neo-Impressionist lens.

A café window or a mirror provided a shimmering focus.

His unique take was glancing and indirect but softly tender:

the fond regard of a lover who cherishes every flaw.


Paraphrases from Hidden Depths by Vince Aletti