David Skellington, doorman of Trump Tower of eight years, the current residence of Republican President elect Donald Trump, looks out onto passersby photographing the building in New York, NY on December 15, 2016. On crowds constantly recording Trump Tower, Skellington said: "It's interesting, you see a lot of people, it's history. But this could be awkward, so many people taking pictures. I'd rather be behind the camera. My family and friends are always seeing me on the news. Tourists say, 'you're famous.' "
"Trump Gawkers" is a visceral look at what draws people to Trump Tower, through in-depth interviews and still photos - a project I started the day after the election. At first, I simply followed where my assignments sent me, but then found myself returning to the place on my own, unable to look away - and I wasn’t alone. Hoards of people undertake the trek, bearing security and weather roadblocks, to stare, gawk, absorb, record. The magnetism to Trump Tower (and by extension, to the man in the tower,) manifests in the sheer numbers of daily visitors, as well as in the fascination etched across their faces. Upon first look, the time so many spend there seems like sport and amusement, but underneath upturned eyes and selfie smiles prevails an undercurrent of anxiety - and not just for those who didn't want Trump in the Oval Office. Some of the electorate that voted against Hillary is now unsure for which version of Trump they voted. People's upward gazes, no matter their political views, seek answers: How could this happen? Or now that it has, what will it mean?