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