Book:Two of Three Walks to the Queens Giant

This project began as part of a broader exploration into New York City’s parks and trees, which I started back in 2017. During my research, I learned about the Queens Giant, New York City's oldest and tallest tree, tucked away in Alley Pond Park. An article in The New York Times described it as “a true wonder of the city,” quoting Parks Commissioner Adrian Benepe: “There is something to be said for leaving it in a bit of obscurity. It’s part of the reason it has survived this long. If everyone is attracted to it, it increases the chance of something bad happening to it.”

My initial visit to the tree in 2017 sparked a fascination, and over the years, I returned six more times. The act of walking to this enduring living monument in the heart of the city intrigued me—it felt like an invitation to reflect on the interplay between the urban and the natural at a time when the balance between progress and conservation seemed increasingly precarious. These ritual walks to the Giant shaped my understanding of how I engage with public spaces, inspiring me to share these personal meditations within these green sanctuaries.

When the pandemic hit in 2020, I found myself with more free time, and my thoughts circled around creating a project centered on these walks to the Queens Giant. On August 15, 2020, I took my first dedicated walk for the project, traveling from Bayside to Alley Pond Park. The idea was to use a single roll of film to document the walk to the Giant, pausing to observe the interplay of infrastructure and nature and capturing the fluid moments of transition along the path. The walk developed a narrative arc, with each frame in my camera acting as a marker of time and a form of notetaking, gradually building toward the encounter with the Giant.

Reaching the Giant felt like arriving for a consultation with a sage—a natural oracle. On one hand, it seemed absurd to expect wisdom from a tree; yet, this absurdity was tempered by a profound belief in the legitimacy of such a connection. It felt equally foolish not to listen to whatever I was perceiving in that moment.

By March 6, 2021, on the cusp of leaving New York for Minnesota, I returned for a second walk. This time, I began near the Willow Lake Preserve Trail and followed the historic Vanderbilt Motor Parkway, once again documenting the journey with a single roll of film.

Fully embracing the Queens Giant as a kind of oracle, I reflected on the phrase: branch out the higher you go.

The two walks felt like bookends to an idea that deepened my understanding of why it is essential to value natural public spaces in the city. However we choose to frame or interpret these moments, embedding them with significance allows for new discoveries. Each walk, though distinct, converged at the same enduring presence—a reminder of the rootedness we seek, even in times of uncertainty and change.

The third walk remains unfinished, an open-ended chapter. The project leaves this uncertainty intact, treating it as an essential element of its story. The invitation to return is always there, but it is equally open to others who might find their own path to the Queens Giant—or to any other landmark that resonates with their personal journeys.