We don’t see it either

This photographic base was shot in New York City.

Printed on Fine Art Hahnemühle Hemp Natural Line 290 g/m2.

Each print comes signed and numbered. 

Unframed. With a small white border. Send in a tube.

Print size 90 x 75 cm - Edition of 10

Print size 60 x 50 cm - Edition of 10.

Print size 30 x 25 cm - Edition of 10.
Print size 10,5 x 14,8 cm (DIN A6) - Open Edition.

Everyone moves, no one arrives—and yet, they all keep going."

We don’t see it either—the title alone is a clever trap. Thomas Haensgen has immortalized one of the oldest truths of urban life: no one sees it, no one knows what "it" is, but everyone acts as if they’ve missed it. Welcome to a New York subway passage, the Louvre of haste, where people blur like fleeting thoughts, as if time itself had one too many to drink.

This black-and-white photograph from the Kinda New York series echoes the fixed yet transient works of Walker Evans or hints of Vivian Maier—it’s Haensgen’s love letter to modern invisibility. Everything here feels too familiar: the young man in the center, unsure whether to break left or right, and the woman in a dress whose contours resist sharpness, as if declaring, “I’m already somewhere else.”

This isn’t mere blur; it’s self-preservation. By capturing this scene, Haensgen doesn’t just ask what the city does to us, but what we do to the city: leaving it our shadows, our footprints, and sometimes even our gaze as we move on. No one lingers here. A moment that refuses to be remembered, populated by people who shuffle through their own lives like blurry side characters.

Formally, the work nods to the golden age of street photography, when artists like Henri Cartier-Bresson sought to capture the decisive moment. But Haensgen—ever the sly observer—gives us the “Indecisive Moment”: the instant when everything happens and yet nothing happens. A tribute to the fleeting, to the everyday dramas no one notices because everyone’s in such a rush to be somewhere. Viewers are unavoidably drawn into this ambiguity. The concrete corridor dissolves into nothingness, like an email chain you regret starting, and everyone in it carries the subtle delay of someone realizing they’ve boarded the wrong train too late. In the end, Haensgen doesn’t reveal New York so much as the feeling we all know: meeting the city—or life itself—like a friend who never quite listens but is always there. Because no matter where we’re going, we’re never really late. We just don’t see it.