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Flo Fox sees in nearly black and white, in a grainy haze that looks like "two pairs of stockings" over her head, constantly in motion. It is ironic that this photographer, who grew up in Woodside, sees the world better through her prize-winning photographs than with her own eyes.
But irony is not having the last laugh because Flo Fox is a hustler. Not a mean or low-down one. She's the kind with talent who survives despite being born blind in one eye, witnessing the deaths of her parents as a child, a divorce and despite a mean devil called multiple sclerosis that has dimmed her remaining good eye and numbed her legs and right hand.
On a recent day, the thin, 5-foot-4 woman sat across from a visitor on the couch at her Chelsea apartment that is fitted for the handicapped. "I see where your eyes are," she said, her long, brown-black hair falling limp onto her red turtleneck. "Your nose is gone and I see the white of your teeth. White pops out in my eyes the best. If someone has gray hair, I can spot them in a room of 100 people."
By not yielding to the storm in her life, she has built a fortress, photo by photo, with her camera. Working primarily at night, avoiding painful sunlight, she walked this and other cities, in beatnik attire, snapping life. She used a camera with automatic focus and now has an automatic enlarger and other high-tech "talking" equipment in the darkroom. She often leans on a stylish cane or, on longer trips, travels on a slow,...
