Cynthia Karalla, an American artist, blends activism, experimentation, and a no-nonsense approach into her craft. Starting as an architect-turned-photographer and refining her skills in fine arts, Karalla’s work defies convention, turning negatives into positives much like the process of developing film.
Her mantra: What is photography if not a tool to shake up our view of the sensible in this chaotic post-digital reality? Karalla navigates through the City, both real and virtual, finding meaning in the everyday experiences that often go unnoticed.
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The Love Story
It all began on August 23rd, 2017. Seven and a half years ago. Love at first sight. He had big eyes, a continuous brow, strong shoulders, and smooth skin that reflected the world around him. Rugged, handsome, with a playboy flair that somehow felt classic. The walk around the block sealed the deal. His movement was commanding, solid, and safe. I knew then he would be mine.
Born in Germany in 1999, he was younger than me by a lot. With his rich blackness beside my bleached-out look, we turned heads. Strangers would engage us in conversation, most of the attention directed his way. Perfect model looks. Solid presence. The whole package.
He became my perfect boyfriend. Always reliable. Always there when I needed him. Took me everywhere I wanted to go and never once left me stranded. He helped me build my studio, accompanied me on shopping sprees, and even made the 700-mile trek to visit my family in record time. He made me feel safe. We were perfect together. You’re probably wondering why I’m selling him.
I’m not a typical woman. I make projects out of my men. Facelifts, toning, muscle-building, constant upgrades. I come from a modern family of divorce. Love must be tested to breaking points. Most of my boyfriends never make it past six months. If they do, nothing will kill them. This one is still alive, still beautiful, still safe, still awesome. There are probably only ten like him left in the USA.
Now let me tell you about my boyfriend.
He’s a 1999 E430 Mercedes, model W210, built at the cusp of the 21st century when everything was about speed. Mercedes decided to go classy and fast to outdo BMW’s M series with their AMGs. The AMG E55 is the big brother to the E430. Both have the M113 engine known for being bulletproof. Everything else can fall apart—doors, hood, tires—but the engine will keep running.
I used to be a BMW fan, but Mercedes won me over with the W210 E430. It had the right blend of class and performance. And with a little over 46,000 built, it was special. As far as age goes, 26 years is grandpa territory. But just like a person’s spirit drives them, it’s the engine that keeps my boyfriend going. The exterior shows its age, but the engine’s mojo never dies.
The E55 is a beast. 349 horsepower, torque at 391 lb-ft at 3000 RPM. Zero to sixty in 5.4 seconds. My E430 is less temperamental—275 horsepower, torque at 295 at 4000 RPM. Zero to sixty in 6.4 seconds. Only a second’s difference. And mine gets better gas mileage.
The secret to keeping him alive and kicking? Matt. He’s the guy from The Little Garage in Huntington, Long Island, NY. It’s a hike to get there, but worth the trip. When I first brought my boyfriend to Matt, he rolled his eyes. The car was a wreck. My logic? Buy a new car and shell out $1500 a month in payments and insurance, or buy this rustic beauty for $2,000. I chose the latter, put in an immediate $4,000, and have been spending $500 a month on OEM parts since. He’s my daily driver. Still reliable. Still my bad boy.
Yes, I still love this E430.
