Acclaimed photographer Arthur Tress has finally published his groundbreaking collection of photographs documenting gay cruising culture in New York's Central Park during the late 1960s. The new book, titled "The Ramble, NYC 1969," represents the first comprehensive collection of Tress's images from the shadowy, overgrown stretch of Central Park that served as a cruising ground for gay men for nearly a century.
In a revealing conversation with playwright Jordan Tannahill, author of "Prince Faggot," Tress reflects on his decision to photograph The Ramble during a pivotal moment in LGBTQ+ history. "They were mostly for myself," Tress explains about his initial motivation, "but I had a sense that they were historically important." The photographer began his work in 1968 as part of a larger project called "Open Space in the Inner City," which explored neglected areas of New York that could potentially become parks.
Tress's approach combined documentary photography with staged portraits, creating what he calls "poetic documentary." Living just a ten-minute walk away at 72nd Street and Riverside Drive, he was already familiar with The Ramble as a cruising ground. "I brought the camera, and some of the photographs of people just walking around were taken a little surreptitiously," he recalls. "But quite often, I'd go up to people and ask them if I could photograph them."
The late 1960s provided a unique backdrop for this documentation. New York was experiencing an economic crisis that left many areas, including The Ramble, overgrown and derelict. "There were all kinds of trees falling down, but it was still very interesting and had a certain mood in itself," Tress remembers. He deliberately chose late-winter light with bare trees to create what he describes as "a kind of labyrinth of synapses," giving the images their distinctive film noir quality.
Tress's background in ethnographic photography, having documented rituals among the Maya in Mexico, the Sámi in Sweden, and the Dogon in West Africa, influenced his approach to The Ramble. "A great deal of my photography has always been about finding contemporary versions of these worlds—archetypical patterns," he explains. This perspective allowed him to view gay cruising as a ritual worthy of serious documentation at a time when such subjects were largely invisible in mainstream photography.
The stakes for men being photographed were significant, given the social climate of 1969. Homosexuality was still illegal, and cruising carried real dangers. "As a photographer, you develop a certain rapport with your subjects," Tress notes. "The guys that I met were willing participants. They knew this was something that needed to be recorded." His own experiences with the psychological challenges of being gay in that era informed his compassionate approach to his subjects.
Tress openly discusses his personal relationship with sexuality and cruising culture. After telling his father about picking up men in parks, he was sent to a psychiatrist who reinforced the era's negative attitudes toward homosexuality. "I think those feelings were identical to many of the emotions of the men I was photographing in the park," he reflects. "My photographs are kind of a mirror—a sympathetic mirror—of myself."
The conversation touches on the evolution of cruising culture and its ongoing challenges. Recent news of a crackdown at Penn Station, where 20 men were detained by ICE and face deportation, illustrates how cruising continues to carry risks. Tress recalls that just days before the Stonewall riots, a mob of about 20 men with axes and chainsaws destroyed a known cruising grove in Flushing Meadows, highlighting the violence that gay men faced.
Despite these dangers, The Ramble offered something unique in 1969's limited gay landscape. "There really weren't that many places like that," Tress explains. "There were the bars, the baths—they were all controlled by the mafia and were very tense, obsessive places. But when you came to The Ramble, it was kind of open and free." He describes observing regular visitors, cliques, and social hierarchies that reminded him of high school dynamics.
The photographer acknowledges the fundamental changes brought by dating apps, noting how modern hookup culture resembles "ordering Uber Eats." However, he observes that cruising persists, and during a recent Labor Day visit, Tannahill found The Ramble still "packed" with men. Tress admits that cruising never suited his personality, joking that his Jewish upbringing led him to ask inappropriate questions like "What do you do? Are you a doctor or a lawyer? Can I bring you home to see my mother?"
The post-Stonewall era brought new institutions that allowed gay men to meet in non-sexual contexts—running clubs, hiking groups, student organizations, and therapy groups. "Guys did not know how to go on a date," Tress recalls. "They had no social skills and they didn't know how to talk to each other." He participated in therapy groups where men practiced dating, with rules like not having sex on the first date to build genuine connections.
Tress's photography career expanded into gay magazines like Mandate and Honcho during the pre-AIDS era, when sexual activity flourished along New York's piers. However, during the AIDS crisis, he was in a long-term relationship and observed the cruising scene primarily as a photographer. "I would imagine that the cruising had cooled down and that people were not participating in that kind of accidental form of encounters," he reflects.
The photographs remained largely unseen for decades until 2022, when Tress began working with Jim Ganz at the Getty Museum. During preparations for an exhibit called "Rambles, Dreams, and Shadows," Ganz discovered the images and recognized their significance. "All photographers have these little hidden, forgotten chapters in our work that aren't seen," Tress explains. This led to the book's publication through an English publisher who saw the historical value of the collection.
Tress draws parallels between cruising and photography, describing both as activities involving "a lot of waiting around for the moment—like one of those white egrets standing in a pond waiting to get the fish." His process involved "endless walking around" in a "semi-trance state" until he would "suddenly sort of pounce on something." While the camera occasionally served as an icebreaker, he emphasizes that photography was never primarily a tool for meeting men.
The images capture what Tress calls "the paranoia, anxiety, loneliness, and frustration of gay men at that period." He acknowledges that while the gay community has moved away from "that self-image of the wounded homosexual," these photographs remain relevant because "we're ready to acknowledge that part of ourselves—the way we were and still are, at least for a lot of people."
Regarding cruising codes and subcultures, Tress notes that the hanky code didn't emerge until the mid-1970s. In The Ramble, he observed straight-looking men who were typically considered more desirable, alongside older men who dressed more flamboyantly. "Almost everybody was wearing very tight jeans or leather pants. There was a lot of phallic signaling—like rock stars with big crotches," he recalls, describing the body language and positioning that communicated sexual availability.
The overgrown nature of The Ramble provided secluded areas for sexual encounters, including "little caves and hidden outcroppings." However, Tress suggests that much of the activity involved display and rejection rather than actual sexual encounters. "You kind of wonder if the people were just there just for the act of cruising and really weren't that interested in sex as much as displaying themselves and parading around."
Reflecting on the psychological impact of cruising culture, both Tress and Tannahill acknowledge its complex legacy. While cruising represented "gays defining and owning a space, which was revolutionary in a way," it could also undermine self-confidence. "You could come home from a night of cruising and feel really shitty about yourself," Tannahill observes, a sentiment Tress confirms from his own experience.
The conversation concludes with Tress expressing hope that his work will find a wide audience. The photographs serve as both artistic achievement and historical document, capturing a crucial moment in LGBTQ+ history when gay life existed largely in the shadows. Over 50 years later, these "noirish, dreamlike scenes in which men lurk and leer, wait and watch" finally receive recognition as both art and ethnography, providing contemporary viewers with insight into a world that shaped modern gay culture.
