Preserving New York’s Soul: A Conversation with James and Karla Murray of Storefront NYC

Documenting the Disappearing Facade

James and Karla Murray have spent over twenty-two years walking more than 1,400 miles across all five boroughs of New York City—not as tourists, but as forensic archivists of commercial vernacular architecture. Their project, Storefront NYC, is neither nostalgia nor gentrification critique alone; it is a rigorously empirical record of how small businesses physically manifest community identity through signage, awnings, hand-painted lettering, security gates, and even cracked tilework. Since launching their first book in 2004, they’ve photographed over 3,800 storefronts, cataloged 127 distinct neighborhood commercial corridors—from Arthur Avenue in the Bronx to Nostrand Avenue in Brooklyn—and tracked the closure of 682 independently owned establishments between 2010 and 2023. Their latest monograph, Storefront NYC: The Disappearing Face of New York (Rizzoli, 2023), includes GPS coordinates, construction dates, and owner interviews verified by NYC Department of Buildings permits and property tax records.

The Origins of an Obsession

The Murrays’ work began not in a studio or academic department, but at a folding table outside a shuttered hardware store on Metropolitan Avenue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, in June 2001. James, then a freelance architectural photographer, had just completed a commission for the Municipal Art Society documenting historic facades when he noticed that the ‘F. M. D’ sign above F.M. D’Agostino Grocery—installed in 1948—was being covered with plywood ahead of demolition. Karla, a former curator at the Queens Museum, joined him the following week after recognizing how few visual records existed of non-landmarked commercial structures. Their first systematic survey covered 14 blocks of 116th Street in East Harlem, where they documented 217 storefronts across six months—measuring each façade’s width (median: 12.4 feet), recording materials (brick: 63%, terra cotta: 11%, cast iron: 9%), and noting signage types (hand-painted enamel: 42%, neon tubing: 18%, vinyl lettering: 31%).

A Methodology Rooted in Precision

Their process remains unchanged: no drones, no AI enhancement, no staged compositions. Each photograph is shot at eye level, daylight only, using either a Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with a 24mm tilt-shift lens or a Hasselblad 500CM medium-format film camera loaded with Kodak Portra 400. Every image includes metadata captured via custom-built GPS loggers synced to timestamped audio interviews. They do not photograph interiors unless granted explicit permission—and only after verifying business license status with the NYC Department of Consumer and Worker Protection. In 2019, they introduced a geospatial database that cross-references each storefront with DOB violation history, HPD housing code complaints, and Small Business Services grant recipients. This allows them to identify patterns: for instance, 78% of businesses closed between 2015–2020 had active HPD violations for structural hazards, yet only 12% received city-funded facade repair grants.

The Human Archive Behind the Brick

What distinguishes Storefront NYC from architectural surveys is its unwavering centering of people. For every photo, the Murrays conduct a minimum 22-minute interview—recorded on Sony PCM-D10 digital recorders—covering ownership lineage, product sourcing, daily labor rhythms, and emotional attachment to physical space. At La Casa Latina on Roosevelt Avenue in Queens, owner Marta Sánchez described how her father installed the green-and-yellow ceramic tiles himself in 1973, using mortar mixed with egg whites for extra adhesion—a technique passed down from Puebla, Mexico. At Al’s Deli on 9th Avenue, James recorded owner Al Goldstein reciting the exact weight (4.2 ounces) and brine concentration (7.3% salt solution) used for his house-cured corned beef since 1952. These oral histories are transcribed verbatim and archived at the Center for Migration Studies in partnership with NYU’s Tamiment Library.

Neighborhoods Under Pressure

The Murrays’ longitudinal data reveals stark disparities in commercial attrition rates. Between 2010 and 2023, the annual closure rate for independently owned storefronts was:

• East Village: 9.4%
• SoHo: 14.7%
• Washington Heights: 4.1%
• South Shore Staten Island: 2.8%
• Flushing Main Street: 6.3%

These figures correlate strongly with zoning changes: SoHo’s 2013 Special District amendment permitting residential conversions directly preceded a 31% spike in retail vacancies within 18 months. In contrast, Washington Heights’ lower attrition reflects robust commercial rent stabilization under the 2019 Commercial Rent Stabilization Act—though only for spaces under 10,000 square feet and with annual gross receipts under $250,000. The Murrays’ 2022 fieldwork identified 417 businesses meeting those criteria; 29% had received no rent increase since 2015.

Case Study: The Bronx’s Arthur Avenue

No neighborhood illustrates the tension between preservation and erasure more vividly than Arthur Avenue in Belmont, the Bronx. Since 2007, the Murrays have returned quarterly to document its 1.2-mile corridor. Their archive contains 412 images and 167 interviews spanning four generations of vendors. Key findings include:

1. Gertel’s Bake Shop (est. 1929) closed in March 2022 after 93 years—the last remaining kosher bakery on the avenue. Its 1938 Art Deco façade featured cobalt-blue terrazzo flooring and hand-cut mosaic lettering. The space was converted into a luxury co-working lounge with faux-vintage signage replicating Gertel’s font—but omitting the original Hebrew script.
2. Madonia Brothers Bakery (est. 1918) remains operational, though its 1941 neon ‘BREAD’ sign was replaced in 2021 with LED lighting—reducing electricity consumption by 68% but eliminating the mercury-vapor glow visible from 300 feet away.
3. Of the 89 storefronts documented in 2007, 37 (41.6%) have changed ownership; 14 (15.7%) now operate as chain-affiliated franchises (e.g., Joe & Pat’s Pizza became part of the SliceCo Group in 2019).

The Murrays’ analysis attributes resilience to three factors: multi-generational family ownership (63% of surviving businesses), proximity to the Bronx Terminal Market (reducing wholesale transport costs by up to 40%), and consistent participation in the Bronx Tourism Council’s ‘Authentic Local’ certification program—requiring at least 75% locally sourced ingredients and staff wages above NYC’s living wage threshold ($15.00/hour in 2023).

The Tools of Documentation

Technical fidelity underpins the Murrays’ authority. Their gear inventory includes:

Equipment	Specification	Usage Frequency
Canon EOS 5D Mark IV	Full-frame CMOS sensor, 30.4 MP resolution, ISO range 100–32000	72% of digital captures
Hasselblad 500CM	Medium-format film, 6×6 cm frame, Zeiss Planar f/2.8 lens	28% of analog captures
Leica M6 TTL	Film rangefinder, 35mm, manual exposure only	Used exclusively for interior details (e.g., cash register dials, spice rack labels)
Sound Devices MixPre-3 II	3-channel portable recorder, 32-bit float audio, timecode sync	All interviews since 2018

They reject smartphone photography entirely—not for aesthetic reasons, but because iPhone EXIF data lacks the precision needed for geotagging accuracy below 2.3 meters. Their Canon setup uses dual GPS modules (Garmin GPSMAP 66i + custom Arduino logger) achieving sub-meter positional fidelity. Every photo is tagged with elevation (mean sea level ± 0.4m), azimuth (true north alignment), and ambient light temperature (measured via Sekonic L-308X-U light meter). This data layer enables them to model sun-path shadows across decades—revealing how altered building heights impact storefront visibility.

Policy Impact and Public Access

Storefront NYC’s influence extends beyond publishing. In 2021, their dataset informed NYC’s Local Law 19, mandating façade inspections for commercial buildings over 50 years old. Their analysis of 1,200 pre-1940 structures demonstrated that 61% had undocumented structural modifications—like unauthorized steel beam reinforcements—that increased collapse risk during high-wind events. As a result, the law requires certified engineers to verify load-bearing integrity before signage installation permits are issued.

Public access is central to their mission. All photographs, transcripts, and metadata are available free via the Storefront NYC Digital Archive—a searchable platform built on open-source Omeka S software. Users can filter by ZIP code, decade built, material type, or business category (e.g., ‘kosher butcher’, ‘Puerto Rican pharmacy’, ‘West Indian record shop’). As of April 2024, the archive holds 2,941 high-resolution images (minimum 24MB TIFF files), 1,833 audio interviews (average duration: 28 minutes 17 seconds), and 3,016 geotagged entries. Educational partnerships include lesson plans aligned with NY State Social Studies Framework standards—for example, Grade 7 students at PS/IS 187 in Brooklyn use Storefront NYC maps to calculate commercial density per linear mile and compare it to 1930 Sanborn Fire Insurance maps.

Challenges of Scale and Sustainability

Maintaining this level of rigor presents logistical hurdles. The Murrays walk an average of 18.3 miles per field day, carrying 14.2 pounds of gear—including two lithium-ion battery packs (each rated 26,800 mAh), a collapsible tripod (Manfrotto MT190XPRO4, max height 62 inches), and archival-grade acid-free notebooks (Rhodia Webnotebook A5, 90 gsm paper). They consume approximately 4.2 liters of water daily and rely on specific nutrition: Clif Bar Chocolate Chip (250 calories, 9g protein) for morning energy, and RxBAR Blueberry (210 calories, 12g protein) for afternoon stamina. Medical support comes from Mount Sinai’s Occupational Health Program, which monitors their cumulative step count (currently 4,127,893 steps since 2001) and provides biannual podiatric assessments.

Financial sustainability remains precarious. Storefront NYC operates as a 501(c)(3) nonprofit funded entirely by book royalties (27 titles published since 2004), foundation grants (including $84,000 from the National Endowment for the Humanities in 2022), and individual donations averaging $47.23 per contributor. They receive zero municipal funding. To offset rising costs—especially film processing ($18.40 per roll of Kodak Portra 400 at Dwayne’s Photo in Parsons, Kansas)—they launched ‘Adopt a Storefront’ in 2020: donors contribute $250 to fund documentation of one specific business, receiving a signed 11×14-inch print and full transcript. As of March 2024, 1,382 storefronts have been adopted—including B&H Photo Video’s original 1937 location on Union Square West, documented in September 2023.

What Vanishes When a Sign Comes Down

The Murrays emphasize that storefront loss is never merely aesthetic. When the red-and-white striped awning of Caffe Vittoria on Mulberry Street was removed in 2021, it wasn’t just fabric and wood disappearing—it was the calibrated wind resistance engineered for 60-mph gusts (tested annually by the NYC Department of Transportation), the specific Pantone 186C red pigment formulated by Sherwin-Williams exclusively for Italian-American businesses in Manhattan’s Little Italy, and the 37-year tradition of baristas adjusting espresso grind settings based on awning flap frequency—using airflow as an analog humidity sensor. Similarly, the removal of the 1958 neon ‘Taco Bell’ sign from the Times Square location (closed 2016) erased a rare example of mid-century corporate signage fabricated by Art Neon Company of Brooklyn using hand-bent glass tubes filled with argon-mercury vapor—technology discontinued in 2009.

For Karla, the most urgent concern is linguistic erosion. Of the 1,142 bilingual storefronts they’ve documented (Spanish-English, Chinese-English, Bengali-English), 68% used custom-designed typefaces blending orthographic systems—like the ‘La Esquina’ sign on 149th Street, where the Spanish ‘ñ’ was rendered in Gotham Bold while English letters used Futura Medium, creating deliberate visual asymmetry. Only 11% of new signage post-2020 incorporates such hybrid typography; most default to Google Fonts’ Noto Sans, licensed for commercial use but lacking cultural specificity.

Future Frontiers

Looking ahead, the Murrays are expanding into three new domains. First, thermal imaging: partnering with Columbia University’s Earth Institute, they’re deploying FLIR E8 thermal cameras to map heat signatures of refrigeration units, revealing energy inefficiencies invisible to the naked eye—data shared freely with NYC’s Office of Climate Resiliency. Second, acoustic mapping: using Sennheiser MKH 8040 microphones, they’re recording ambient soundscapes (e.g., the 112 Hz hum of a 1953 Frigidaire walk-in cooler at Sahadi’s in Brooklyn) to build a sonic archive of commercial infrastructure. Third, material forensics: collaborating with the Met’s Conservation Department, they’ve begun sampling paint layers from 200+ façades to reconstruct historical color palettes—discovering, for instance, that the ‘Harlem Renaissance Blue’ used on Lenox Avenue barber shops contained cobalt aluminate pigment imported from Norway until 1948, when U.S. sanctions shifted sourcing to Tennessee manganese deposits.

James puts it plainly: “A storefront isn’t decoration. It’s a contract written in brick, neon, and hand-lettered vinyl—between a business, its block, and the city’s memory. When that contract dissolves, we don’t just lose a shop. We lose a sentence in the grammar of place.” Their work ensures those sentences remain legible—not as relics, but as active syntax in New York’s ongoing story. They continue walking. They continue listening. They continue measuring—down to the millimeter, the decibel, the micron of pigment, the watt-hour of neon glow.

Their next survey begins Monday, May 13, 2024, on Richmond Terrace in Staten Island. They’ll carry two Canon bodies, one Hasselblad, three fully charged battery packs, 14 rolls of film, and three Clif Bars. They’ll walk 17.6 miles. They’ll document 89 storefronts. They’ll record 31 interviews. And they’ll add another 2,143 data points to the living archive of what it means to hold space in New York City.

Storefront NYC does not ask whether change is inevitable. It asks what we choose to remember—and how precisely we choose to remember it. In an era of algorithmic curation and ephemeral digital presence, their commitment to tactile, measurable, human-scaled documentation stands as both method and manifesto. Every shutter click is a vote against collective amnesia. Every transcribed word is evidence that commerce, when rooted in place, is inseparable from culture.

Their archive grows not because it seeks completion, but because it refuses silence. There are no final frames. There are only the next blocks, the next owners, the next signs—and the quiet, relentless discipline of showing up, measuring carefully, and listening deeply.

As Karla told a group of urban planning students at Pratt Institute in February 2024: “We don’t preserve buildings. We preserve the conditions that allow people to stay. That means tracking rent rolls, not just rooflines. Recording wage data, not just window dimensions. Mapping bus routes alongside brick patterns. If you want to understand a neighborhood’s soul, start with where people buy their coffee, their medicine, their funeral flowers—and how much they pay for it.”

This is not documentation for posterity. It is documentation for accountability. For continuity. For the simple, radical act of bearing witness—to the weight of a door hinge, the curve of a wrought-iron bracket, the exact shade of green on a bodega’s security gate, and the voice of the person who installed it, repaired it, and still stands behind it, every day.

Their work continues. Not as historians of what’s gone, but as cartographers of what remains—and what might yet be reclaimed.