The Raslan Family in Die Zeit /August 23, 2016 by Ashley Gilbertson

The Raslan family from Syria, who I met as they made their way to Berlin are some of the most beautiful people I've been lucky to meet in my life. For those of you that can read German, here's their story–so far– as they settle in Berlin.

INSTAGRAM

Major exhibition coming up @madrosegallery in Millerton, NY! It’s me and @francopagetti showing 50 of our images from our catalog over our entire careers. This is an image of mine from the Ndani tribe in the Baliem Valley of West Papua, 2000. July 12, 12-5 pm opening.

‘No kings’ rally X Flag Day, Fifth Avenue, New York.

Hundreds of protesters in Lower Manhattan, demonstrated President Trump’s Immigration crackdown this week. Protests have been largely focused around 26 Federal Plaza, a 41 story government building that houses one of the city’s immigration courts, and on June 10, a group marched north to another courthouse. Dozens of arrests have been made.

Anti ICE protest, New York, NY. June 10, 2025.

Red Hook by @orchardstreetrunners: didn’t die despite @kylepriceisright’s best efforts dragging me into traffic like a demon on his way to first place.

This Memorial Day, I’ll be thinking of my grandparents, Alan Avery and Victor Gilbertson, who served Australia during WWII. They returned home, but nothing happens in a silo, not war, and especially not combat. My families experiences with returning veterans led me to war, and eventually to create the only work I’m proud of: Bedrooms of The Fallen which was commissioned by @kathyryan at the @nytmag These two bedrooms are connected. Marine LCpl. Jordan C. Haerter, 19, was killed by a suicide truck bomb on April 22, 2008, in Ramadi, Iraq. Jordan stood his ground to stop the bomber, saving his platoon’s lives, including that of Marine Cpl. Nicholas G. Xiarhos, 21. Nick’s father drove to Jordan’s funeral in Sag Harbor, NY, where he thanked Jordan’s mother for her son’s courage that had saved his own son. Nick returned home only to volunteer to redeploy to Garmsir district, Afghanistan, where he would die in an IED attack on July 23, 2009. This time; Jordan’s mother drove up to Nick’s funeral in Yarmouth Port, MA. “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” John Donne, 1840

Late nights red lights… fun story about a legendary door @fabrizio.brienza for The @nytimes From @dionnesearcey story (who got in): The music inside Paul’s Casablanca lounge was thumping on a recent night as sweaty dancers maneuvered under a disco ball. Outside, a line of would-be revelers looked longingly at the entrance. A green velvet rope was nearly all that was separating them from the good times being had inside. That rope and Fabrizio Brienza. As the “door” of the lounge, in SoHo, Mr. Brienza is in charge of plucking patrons from the line to enter. Only a choice few get in. “I curate the vibe of the place,” said Mr. Brienza, who has worked at Paul’s for five years and estimates that on busy weekends he turns away hundreds of people who don’t fit that vibe. Which is defined solely by him. Mr. Brienza is on the front lines of gate-keeping in a city that thrives on exclusivity, giving rise to power brokers around every corner.

Here’s an 02h00 Downtown Bread Route race on a fucking school night thrown by the one and only @orchardstreetrunners

Best artists to ever live (even with Jello). Better than Bach. Than Nas. And, yeah, fight me.

Day or night. No better running city. No better city. Fight me.

30 Hours in a Hurricane, on a Race With No Course Late last year, @shannonsimon of the @nytmag called and told me to up my weekly mileage - she wanted to send me to West Virginia backcountry to photograph @doug.bock.clark and his team during the Adventure Racing National Championships. From Doug’s story: “When you’re navigating well, you and the map and the world merge. You become hyperaware of the slope of the ground, the bends in a valley, how many meters and kilometers your footsteps have paced out. It’s an immersion in oneself and nature, the interior and exterior worlds — harking back to when navigation was essential to humanity’s survival as hunter-gatherers. Your mind attunes itself to magnetic north almost as much as your compass does.” Link in profile, Captions below. 1. Racers finishing a bicycle section of the 2024 adventure-racing national championships at Snowshoe mountain in West Virginia. 2. Doug Bock Clark during the championship race. 3. Racers rely on compasses and contour maps, which to the untrained eye look like illegible spaghetti but to the knowledgeable reader transform 2-D paper into a 3-D hologram. 4. The writer, accompanied by his teammate MacRae Linton, checking his compass bearing during the storm. 5. The writer’s team after they were almost hit by a tree that fell in the storm. I found Jed standing beside the fallen trunk. He had managed to dodge the main spar, so that only minor branches swiped him. He was staring at a tinfoil-wrapped beef burrito the way that Hamlet regarded Yorick’s skull. Jed, an academic and Times contributor, seemed poised to quote W.B. Yeats or another great poet, as he sometimes does. Instead, he observed that he had saved his own life without spilling any of his snack. 6. Racers crossing a footbridge in the Monongahela National Forest after completing a bonus section. 7. Doug riding toward a bonus checkpoint. 8. Jedediah Britton-Purdy and MacRae Linton fording a stream after finding a checkpoint. 9. An all-female team during an overnight run/walk section of the race. 10. Doug and MacRae crossing the finish line.