Nick Ansom of Hoop Bus has kept his Survival Hoops series (basketball hoops made of upcycled materials) going for over four years. He describes the impulse he gets from seeing a circular piece of material or trash as an affliction now. He cannot move on until it’s mounted into a basketball hoop. The series began through the friendship and mentorship of welder artist Lori Powers when the two filled their Venice Beach neighborhood with makeshift hoops during the Pandemic Shutdown. Now, as Nick travels North America in the Hoop Bus he keeps mounting hoops. These hoops are built from dock materials in an abandoned lot along the East River shoreline in Greenpoint, Brooklyn — real estate that is surely up for development soon. One hoop is built from a milk crate with a rusted circular metal backboard. The larger hoop is built from a circular wood frame with a backboard outline constructed from dock rope. The latter hoop is over 20 feet in the air. No one gave Ansom permission to build it, and likely no one will put up a fight to preserve it. Get a bucket.

Shot on Kodak Gold 200 35mm.

On September 21, 2024 the Harlem community gathered for the opening of Jeff Sonhouse’s Harlequin courts in St. Nicholas Park. In his artistic statement Sonhouse dedicated the court to the showmen he saw on the basketball court growing up. Those showmen, like the harlequin figure, “inspired me to be more than I imagine what was expected of me.” I photographed the event for Project Backboard. I was also on the install team for this project. Of the four basketball courts in St. Nicholas Park, Project Backboard has put artwork on all of them. A serious achievement.

All photos shot on 35mm.

I profiled Jeff Sonhouse for this project, which you can read on Common Practice.

Scenes from the Friends of the PMBL Basketball Camp in Treasure Beach, Jamaica. 2024.

Many thanks to the PMBL for sponsoring my trip and changing my life. I know this will be the first of many camps.

All photos taken on 35mm film.

Ektar100, Portra400, Ilford HP5

March 2024: I met my lady in Sydney after she finished a play at the Adelaide Fringe Festival. Our time in Australia and New Zealand was about being together and visiting magnificent places that we may never get another chance to see again. I never prioritized basketball on this trip, but basketball kept finding me. A day trip on the ferry out to Manley produced a playground court with sun sails. A coffee mission to St Jude Cafe led to a walk through Redfern Park where I found courts next to a skatepark.

In New Zealand we rented a Spaceships sleeper van. Night one, we had dinner with a friend in downtown Auckland, drove in darkness through the countryside and took advantage of New Zealand's freedom camping policy. On the morning of my birthday I stepped out of the van onto the Tapapakanga shore in Ōrere Point. We drove south to Rotorua and Lake Taupō. Most of the drive we listened to Flying Nun Records playlists. It led to a trip-long obsession with the The Clean's "Anything Could Happen." as a quintessential driving song. We explored the southern shore. Slept on the beach in Napier. Took a morning stroll to a basketball court on the beach. Drove further south through wine country hills to the secluded beach town of Waimarama (where I spotted the metal garage rim). We cut north to another secluded beach town north of Whanganui and slept near the shore. Nearly every night in New Zealand we woke up near water. The hoop supported on two wood poles was on a short road that led to a lookout point of the Three Sisters and the Elephant Rock, a hoop we wouldn't have encountered if high tide hadn't prevented us from walking along the shore. The last court was at a campground in Waitomo where we visited the glow worms caves. Basketball found me throughout the New Zealand countryside. Again and again.

All photos shot 35mm, except the last 3 taken with an iPhone after I'd run out of film. Images that appear to have a bluish tint were taken with a roll of Cinestill 800T. The rest was taken with Kodak400 Ultramax.

On a bucolic hillside of untamed tall grass is a crop circle of a radiating sun, each ray acting as a manicured path to the structure at its center, a basketball tree, where we will give worship. The tree’s branches, reaching high like a mighty oak, provide a network of opportunities and challenges to get a bucket. My first shot was a miss. Second shot: another miss. Third shot rattled in. Renewed confidence; real shooters never miss three in a row, even on a non-regulation matrix of hoops.

This is sculptor Alexandre Arrechea's Orange Functional. To read my full essay published by Common Practice click here.

Shot on 35mm with Kodak400 and Ilford HP5, and iPhone.

The community energy in the Dixwell neighborhood of New Haven radiates a friendliness that is uncommon in America. The vibe was big and infectious. From the youth game to the open run, it was an all day bucket fest. I shot three rolls! I could share so many more images from the day, but these are some of the best.

Presented by Project Backboard and Five-Star Basketball, the courts at Goffe Street Park are now a mural based on Tschabalala Self’s “Eyeballing” painting, which was also on display at the arts non-profit NXTHVN (only a block from the courts) as part of the COMMON PRACTICE: Public Access exhibit. The exhibit presented works by Sue Kwon, Daniel Ramos, Kevin Couliau, and SHAN Wallace, among others. I even had the pleasure of meeting Anwulika Anigbo, one of the presenting artists who was visiting from Chicago. (You’ll see her here with the camera.) The courts are dedicated to the memory of John “Super John” Williamson, a New Haven hoops legend who won two State Championships in high school in 1967 and 1968 and went on to play in the ABA, first playing for the New York Nets and starting alongside Julius Erving. The Nets won the ABA Championship his rookie season. Surviving members of Williamson’s family came out in big numbers for the dedication to Super John.

The vitality of breathing was not lost on anyone who came to the unveiling of Nari Ward’s mural court at St. Nicholas Park in Harlem. Ward’s “Breathing Court” combines Marcus Garvey's Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) flag with an African prayer symbol known as a Congolese Cosmogram, representing birth, life, death and rebirth. Ward says the Cosmogram hole patterns were “drilled into the floorboards of one of the oldest African-American churches in the United States in Savannah, Georgia.” It is believed these patters functioned as breathing holes for runaway slaves who hid under the floorboards while awaiting passage to the free states.

On July 22, 2023 Project Backboard and Common Practice held an unveiling event for the Harlem community. Attended by Nari Ward, the event began with a youth camp, shifted to a dance performance by [HOME TEAM], and concluded with 3x3 basketball tournament. The open play was accompanied by the live drumming and funky keys of Jay Mumford of the Du-Rites and Bruce Martin of Tom Tom Club.

On a Saturday in June I swung by the Sherm-Ice Classic to see my dude Giovanni take the court with his HeGotNext team that was loaded with notable NYC hoopers like Leaky Roof, 4TheKill, GuarddaFatboy, and George the Messiah. It’s always a movie at West 4th. The motto of the afternoon: we don’t ball, we battle.

Shot on 35mm with Cinestill 400D

Toledo, Ohio is a city that most people have little awareness of. Even as someone who partially grew up there, I cannot tell you much. But, each time I return to visit family, I get more and more curious. Last winter, while living with my parents before the final move to NYC, I made it a point to find as many basketball courts as I could. This is a glimpse into that hunt that took me to my old high school, along roads I hadn’t driven since high school, into neighborhoods I never drove through growing up, and nature preserves along Lake Erie.

Mostly shot on Ilford HP5 and (I believe) Fuji Superia 400.

Barnardsville is an alcove outside of Asheville, North Carolina. Barnardsville is not a town, but an unincorporated collection of homes around a school, a post office, and a few churches tucked in the pastoral valleys of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I was there for a wedding. Along the holler to the wedding site was a basketball hoop among farm equipment. Of course, I’m getting a shot.

The next morning I explored the country roads dotted with farm houses and barns. The hoops felt just as historical as the stone cottages; just as abandoned as the rusted vehicles being overtaken by the tall grass. The churchgoing presence was offset by a junkyard of art known as Blueberry Village. As I wandered the space I found the game among the inspiration. Although, it seems the neighbors aren’t fond of the garbage sculptures.

It’s leaf season in the Blue Ridge Mountains which apparently draws a heavy tourist attraction that the locals call “peepers.” They do not have a name for people who come to view their basketball courts… yet.

All photos shot on Kodak Gold 200.

I know that years, even decades, from now I will reflect on that first summer in New York City as a providential time in my life.

I’ll think of… Pick-up in my neighborhood at McCaffrey Playground. Shooting hoops at home in Manhattan Plaza. Seeing that home court turned into a concert stage by the inimitable soul singer Bobby Harden. Strolls through Hell’s Kitchen and Chelsea to take photos of courts. Pick-up at West 4th. I’ll think of the sense of belonging and community that came with it.

There’s a renewed sense of purpose and it feels as though New York City, with its over 1,800 basketball courts in NYC parks, is calling me. At every train stop, within a few blocks walk, with the sound of dribbling overheard on the street, I’m starting to carry that flame again. I’ve only been here six months. This is just the beginning.

The NY vs NY league presented by Nike took me all over the metropolis. Milbank in Harlem. Gersh Park in Brooklyn (off Linden Boulevard, shout out A Tribe Called Quest). The finals went back to Harlem for a showdown at Rucker Park. The competition upheld the hoops lore of NYC. It didn’t matter if it was a men’s or women’s game; teams brought physical, full court intensity on defense. No easy buckets. It made the offensive performances noteworthy. Some rose to the moment. Others withered. The crowds showed love when it was earned. The girls’ game at Gersh Park was memorable as the home team’s backcourt put on a show for their neighborhood. Both teams from Gersh, guys and girls, took home the championship. Until next summer.

I woke up on the beach just north of Ventura. Before leaving California, I needed one last trip down the coast. That morning, I was up early, cruising down the PCH through Malibu where I stopped for coffee. As I drove I hunted for hoops and courts. I wound through the neighborhood of Rustic Canyon to find a court hidden in the hillside. Mostly folks walked their dogs, but I was there getting shots up with my Aussie. Someone left a ball at the court. We ran give and go plays. Then, it was down to Venice Beach.

Since it was December the courts were mostly clear in Venice Beach. No Veniceball league. Just a few tourists and locals playing three on three, and a kid showing his grandma that he can heave it from the free throw line. We lounged in the grass. I played some more ball with the dog. More give and go plays because he’s an assist machine. Then, we combed the alleys looking for more hoops.

Lastly, was a pilgrimage to Angel’s Gate in San Pedro. It’s among the most picturesque courts on the planet. The court sits atop a cliffside next to a pagoda that contains the Korean Friendship Bell. A bad shot could mean a long hike down the hill. On this day high winds made shooting a test of physics. Aim for the far left corner of the backboard and watch the wind carry the ball center for a made bucket.

In California there’s protected land along the coast. Places that are the birthright of every American citizen. There is an idea in my mind of basketball courts as public spaces worthy of the same preservation as coastal cliffs or wetlands or the Grand Canyon. In this idea, there’s a national endowment to protect and care for all courts in the country. The wealthiest nation on the planet would simply decide that basketball was a birthright. It would never allow a public court to crack or for grass to grow over the concrete. Rims would never go without nets. Street lights would be installed so that hoopers would always have a place to go. No fences. No locks. Just pure, unlimited access to hoop.

A simple little idea.

Sunday Washed Club is an unofficial media run that bounces around the outdoor and indoor courts of NYC. A collective of young professionals in sports from writers, editors, and content creators to graphic designers and videographers who hold positions within the NBA, Sports Illustrated, Complex Sports, GQ and The Ringer, among others. Founded by Jarrel Harris and Tony Mui in 2021, the goal is to connect media professionals and influencers on the court. Remember the mythologized ESPN sportscaster runs held at the Bristol HQ? It’s like that, except without the intensity of Stuart Scott hospitalizing Dan Patrick.

Each week the invite-only group of both men and women assembles at a different location. The games are quick and competitive. It’s not a network mixer. Maybe it’s the healthy dose of trash talk that keeps it at bay? Quite simply, people come to hoop. Especially with each installment crowning an M.V.P. who gets to pose with the trophy. Yes, it’s an empty detergent canister that has a sheet of paper that reads “M.V.P.” taped to it. But, you want that title.

Sunday Washed Club is what you want, if not expect, from sports media. People who love and play the game, working in the industry that presents the game to the world at large. These are not armchair quarterbacks. They’re hoopers. Don’t let the name fool you, the Sunday Washed Club gets buckets.

Special shout out to Jarrel Harris and everyone at Sunday Washed Club for the invitations to run.

Follow Sunday Washed Club on IG to keep up with their videos, special events, and latest MVP’s.

Within a week of moving to my new home in Hell’s Kitchen I was part of a neighborhood improvement project. A project that I’ve long admired from afar and corresponded with in hopes of a collaboration in Sacramento. Project Backboard is a non-profit dedicated to the renovation of public basketball courts around the country. They announced their latest renovation with a video of the design artist Andrea Bergart shooting hoops at the court. In the video I could see my apartment tower in the near distance. Kismet.

So each morning I volunteered to help paint and document the process on 35mm film.* Kodak TMax400 film gives the photos a moment in time feel. Which fits the experience, as I was welcomed in by the install team (Edwin, Pancho, Nick and Sam) and the artist Andrea. Renovating a court is labor. It’s not intense, but it requires time, patience, and a lot of bending over. But the further you go, creativity starts to seep into the process and new challenges arise that transform the labor into making art. As the colors are put down, the court slowly comes alive. Parents would be in the park and shout affirmations. Children on recess would peer through the fence, glance at the rendering posted by NYC Parks, and then look back at the court with wonder in their eyes. It was clear the impact on this park would be immediate. Bergart shared her hopes for the project, which have already come to fruition.

“I hope to create a more inclusive basketball community where people feel invited to express their individuality and get involved in any way they want. I see painted basketball courts as a way to expand and develop how people can participate in an urban basketball community.”

The finished court was shot with Kodak Portra400. The colors are alive. The court has already become a place of congregation. I’d talked to people in the neighborhood who said this court wasn’t a place for pick-up. But, in the weeks since we finished I’ve seen and played in several runs. McCaffrey Park is activated. Come get a bucket.

For further musings on court restoration, read on in the Playbook.

*Full disclosure: Project Backboard upgraded me from volunteer to paid labor on the installation. However, this photo essay is not included in that agreement and is not sponsored content.

“It’s very rural. There’s no walking five minutes to a Walgreens or a CVS. In my town there was one grocery store. That was the one my mom worked at. It was a bunch of nothing, but basketball and woods. We just played basketball in the street. We just fell in love with it. Other than that it was boring. Wasn’t too much to do. Everybody lived 30 minutes away from each other. There were no street lights. Deer. And you know, the occasional bear.“ - Bam Adebayo on Pinetown, NC on the Old Man & The Three podcast

This quote reminds me of Southern Ohio and its farm communities. It reminds me of where my mom grew up. The farm where my grandparents lived through my early childhood.

Recently, I drove through my mom’s hometown. I drove along country roads and I found basketball. Often in unlikely places. Places where kids were clearly just trying to get a bucket, regardless of a playground or a driveway or a flat surface. Hoops in fields and fastened to light poles. I was deep in the countryside of Ohio when I found the hoops at the abandoned elementary school. The game of basketball is 130 years old. I live in a very young country and yet much of its infrastructure is already in decay, if not fully abandoned.

Ruin and obsolescence, for some, contains beauty. Others see a violent design. Sometimes I look at these photos and see beauty. Others times I see violence. It is also possible to just see time, nature, and basketball in harmony. As long as someone stops to get a bucket, the games lives on.

Jerome, AZ is a magical place. I first saw this court long before the idea for Sacred, but the image of that court overlooking the desert valley stuck with me. Returning to Jerome to document it for Sacred has been a long time-coming. I arrived with my girlfriend and mini-Aussie and within minutes of stepping on the court we’d made friends. We helped a couple take a photo of the two of them shotgunning beers. The next we know, all four us are shotgunning. The sound of dribbling excited another couple that lived near by. They came running down to hoop with me. They said no one ever plays here. We changed all that.

The sound of the net in Jerome was echoing through the town. The guy I was shooting with said he put the net up with a “dad-type dude” from Michigan, while the two of them were on acid. They met that night and in the throes of their trip decided to hoop. Together they hung a net and played late into night, or early into the morning… all depends on your perspective.

We piled back into the car, but the urge to remain in Jerome was tempting. Both couples we met wanted to meet at a bar for shots. So very tempting. But, we kept on. I thought about the regret of that first visit. No ball. No photos. These days I keep a ball in my car at all times. The habit met its origin that night in Jerome.

All photos were shot on 35mm.

Shot on Ilford Ortho Plus black and white 35mm film. Summer of 2020. Wandering the alleys of East Sacramento.

Excursion around South Sacramento. Shot in black and white on 35mm film. Finding hoop architecture and quiet places to get a bucket.

Growing up in Toledo familiarized me with the rust, the loss, and the neglected. It was also a place in which every few houses there was a driveway hoop or a paved slice of the property for a home court. It shaped my vision and future in hoops photography even though I never took a single photo when I lived there. It taught me about the obsolescent and the sacred.

Several trips to San Francisco. With stops at Point Bonita, the inner Richmond, Pacifica and Treasure Island. Taking in the breathtaking landscape and the hoops that call those places home.

A black and white excursion around the outlying areas of the Sacramento region to visit Jim Miller-Melberg structures and lament the loss of rims that continues without just cause.

Shot on Ilford Hp5

A day trip to Dillon Beach, documenting the hoops found along the rural highways. Shot on 35mm color film.