Underground. A reflection of Olmedini and Ana in a subway window. It reveals to me the feeling and connection between them at that moment, so I shoot a frame.
One in ten thousand.
Will it make it to the book? No idea.
But I hope so.
© Jaime Permuth, 2025
Underground. A reflection of Olmedini and Ana in a subway window. It reveals to me the feeling and connection between them at that moment, so I shoot a frame.
One in ten thousand.
Will it make it to the book? No idea.
But I hope so.
Here's an image from the very first day of shooting with Olmedini, September 1st, 2018. I remember thinking: Olmedini has somehow upended the gravitational field of the subway; as soon as he boards a train objects levitate, appear and disappear, transform into other substances.
For the next few weeks, I am revisiting my files once again, photograph by photograph, to make sure that significant images are not missing from my edit. And of course they are. I know I am seeing these photographs anew but sometimes I am just understanding their deeper meaning for the first time.
The memories come flooding back.
There are over 10,000 photographs from the project. Of those, anywhere between 75-85 will be included in the monograph. Will you see this photograph in the book? Possibly. I am not certain yet. Part of that answer lies in the careful sequencing that will best tell the story of Olmedini El Mago.
Editing for a book is a complex, sometimes punishing process; sacrifices have to be made.
Now that I’ve got a sense of the overarching shape for “Olmedini El Mago” it’s time to return to my original files once again and make sure no significant images are missing from my edit.
In so doing, I felt an unexpected pang of emotion while looking at my Light Room Catalogue. There’s an entry for a shoot with Olmedini on 20181013, then two weeks later HRM pregnant at 37 weeks, six days later Luca and Olin being born on 20181029. And then, three weeks later on 20181121 a new shoot with Olmedini.
Art and life. Life and art.
There’s a book in here; you just can’t see it yet.
The end of the year finds me by the shore, working on a project that is near and dear to my heart. And I feel lucky and grateful to be here.
In fact, even though I’m far from my boys and HRM, it is a homecoming of sorts. A return to my truest self, the one that believes it has a gift to share with others.
By Rosh HaShana, I will be once again reunited with my family. And sometime in 5784, I hope to complete the design of “Olmedini El Mago” and find the right publisher for the book.
Shana Tova U Metuka! May the New Year bring you closer to living the life you dream of. And may we all - together - make the world a kinder and gentler place.
I met Olmedo Renteria the same way hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers have over the years: spell-bound while he performed his magic act on the subway. The encounter made the deepest impression on me. I remembered the magician so vividly, that twenty years later, the summer before Olin and Luca were born, I set out to find him once again.
Life is nothing if not unpredictable. When I was finally able to get Olmedini on the phone, I learnt that during the intervening years, he had suffered a stroke that had left him blind. I was astonished to hear that the then seventy nine year old magician was still working the subway despite his age and physical impairment. A few days later, camera-in-hand, I met Olmedini on a subway platform and we boarded the train together.
A few months went by. Five thousand photographs in, I wrote the New York Times to pitch the story. It was published as a double page in the Sunday edition of the paper. From there, it made its way across the world and seemingly overnight, Olmedini became an international star. His long-cherished dream of making it big in New York was finally coming true when the pandemic ground everything to a halt. Our photographic collaboration - if not our abiding friendship and connection - went on an extended hiatus.
This past summer, on my way back from Cuba, I stopped in NYC for a few days. I gave myself the impossible task of composing some sort of epilogue to the series. And I believe I did.
“Olmedini El Mago" has a truly complex underlying structure. It will be quite a challenge to sift through the images in order to sequence and organize them for publication as a book. But this coming week I am embarking on that process. I’m headed for my happy place, the sea shore. An artist residence of one. No community of fellow artists, no technical support, no production facilities. But I will have the luxury of time and solitude.
And that’s all I really need to get things started.
Their summer vacation is now over and I’ll miss the long, leisurely days together. Just like old times, before they started in on Day Care and Kindergarden. When the world was made up of four.
Mami made sure every day had something special in store for us. And I know that when they go back to class next week, they’ll have stories to tell, bright eyes and big smiles to greet their friends and teachers with.
Thank you HRM for all the love and care in everything you do 💌
After a very full day which included riding the town’s high tech Ferris Wheel, lunch at Sokcho Market, a visit to the old Chilsung Shipyards and then play time at “World King”, Olin and Luca had dinner and got a small bag of Sour Skittles for dessert. As twins sometimes do, they ate the same color candies at the same time. And then, midway through the bag, they surprised us by breaking out into a little celebratory dance.
When Olin is upset with me he says “Papi, go bicycling” or sometimes just “Enjoy your ride”.
Olin, hiding in a corner of a furniture store in Gangnam, waiting to surprise Mami as she comes up the stairs.
Kids play - and we play along while we work.
Mami is away this weekend so the boys are spending time with me. Weekdays are long and Fridays are no exception. After a full day at Kindergarten, the twins get dropped straight off at their Tae Kwon Do Academy. They are done with practice in time for dinner.
When bedtime rolled around, Olin was so tired he fell asleep even before I was done changing him. But Luca still wanted to read a story. So as not to disturb his brother, Luca held a flashlight while I read and turned the pages of “Bolivar”.
Jet lag happens when your body arrives at its destination but your soul hasn’t departed the point of origin.
While I travel, I like to send photos and videos to these two. Keep them in the loop, show them people, places and foods they haven’t encountered yet and remind them that Papi loves them.
At one point during my Cuba trip, Olin asked HRM to make sure I brought back a gold colored 1950’s Chevy to drive around in Seoul.
Another time it went like this:
- “Mami, let’s move to Cuba”.
“Why?”
- “So that when we wake up tomorrow, Papi will already be there.”
And my all time favorite riposte to a video from New York:
“Luca, what did you think of Papi’s video?”
- “I miss Papi… love you Papi!”
“Olin, how about you?”
“Olin, anything you want to say to Papi?”
- “Someday, I’m going to go a lot further away than Papi and send HIM videos!”
I hear you mis niños bellos. No more photos, no more videos. Just a flight home. I’ve missed you so.
Yesterday, I had a chance to see the exhibition “Something Beautiful, Reframing La Colección” at El Museo del Barrio. What I didn’t know coming into the galleries was that my series “The Street Becomes” was not only featured in the exhibition but had inspired a whole section of the show. El Museo and I go back many years and I was so very moved by this.
The exhibition features a number of artists I greatly admire. In particular, I felt humbled to show alongside the great Guatemalan modernist painter Carlos Mérida. His work is represented by a beautiful series of illustrations of the Popol Vuh.
I’ll be in Cuba until the end of the month. If you need to reach me, please try again at the end of the month.
*
Estaré en Cuba hasta fin de mes. Si necesitas contactarme, por favor intenta nuevamente a fin de mes.
In 2018, four works from my series “The Street Becomes” were acquired by El Museo del Barrio for its Permanent Collection.
I am proud to have this work on view at the museum this summer. Also, I am particularly moved and humbled to know that my favorite Guatemalan artist, the great modernist painter Carlos Mérida, is also featured in the exhibition.
“Gordos, in twelve days Papi has to fly to Cuba”
L: “Papi, are you a bird?”
O: “A bird. Ha!”
Happy Children’s Day, Luca and Olin :))
Prefiero leer con la primera luz del día. El resto de la casa es silencio y los ojos se esmeran aún por delimitar la tinta sobre la página, negra y espesa como el café en la taza blanca.
**
“Desde la altura de aquel piso veinticinco se tenía la visión más reveladora, tan hermosa como agobiante, de la insularidad: la línea oscura de la avenida del malecón, la serpiente gris del parapeto, que resguardaba a la ciudad de los embates del mar, la rocas salientes en varios tramos de la costa y, apabullante, como un desafío, la extensión del océano, visible hasta donde el planeta, al parecer, en realidad redondo, iniciaba la curva de su descenso hacia los otros mundos”.
“Mami, the waves are crying”.
“Why, Luca?”
“Because we’re leaving here and they love playing with me”.
Saturday -9 Celsius.
Heads: Brunch.
Tails: Ride.
Damn.