It was so tough to watch this guy slowly drag himself down the street with his cane and his shoe in his hand but it was also something that I had really never seen before. Later, when he had propped himself against a wall I spoke with him, gave him a few bucks and several cigarettes. He asked if I had any matches and when I said no all he could do was laugh in the most weary, weary way.
That's a beautiful story and I'm touched that you feel comfortable talking to people in serious straights, not everyone can do that, much less photograph them.
I keep noticing that the people I photograph for my 100 Strangers are usually blue collar, at events, and mostly unprotected by privilege. I keep asking myself why I don't think of or have access to a wider array of social classes - but not everyone walks or crawls the streets. I guess they're in their cars, offices, wherever. Still, I like to think they would be just as interesting and vulnerable.
Shades of Irvine Park (St. Paul) in the day before urban renewal (gentrification). Now its as though the whole damn town has the same goal-maybe the have-nots will go to Minneapolis, where they have the propensity of being carted off to the nether regions in the trunks of police cars (more often than not, Dakota people). Its ironic that many of the former haves now face the same plight-they don't have a clue! The streets will be clear soon enough-winter approaches, and if you're out there, you could easily freeze to death.
When I was a kid, out of the window of a car (or bus), I saw a shabby man on all fours digging by the lake in MacArthur Park. My mom's friend who I was with, laughed and said he must be digging for gold. I think until now, that was one of the saddest images I carry with me.
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It was so tough to watch this guy slowly drag himself down the street with his cane and his shoe in his hand but it was also something that I had really never seen before. Later, when he had propped himself against a wall I spoke with him, gave him a few bucks and several cigarettes. He asked if I had any matches and when I said no all he could do was laugh in the most weary, weary way.
Kevin, I was so hoping this wasn't what it looked like.
I'm glad you spoke with him. You were generous; your picture is, too.
like stations of the cross
Leave it to a nihilist to hand out cigarettes and not have any matches...
Zounds. His hair, the tip of his ear, and we are left to imagine his face...
Whoa. Thanks for the back story K--so moving.
That's a beautiful story and I'm touched that you feel comfortable talking to people in serious straights, not everyone can do that, much less photograph them.
I keep noticing that the people I photograph for my 100 Strangers are usually blue collar, at events, and mostly unprotected by privilege. I keep asking myself why I don't think of or have access to a wider array of social classes - but not everyone walks or crawls the streets. I guess they're in their cars, offices, wherever. Still, I like to think they would be just as interesting and vulnerable.
Shades of Irvine Park (St. Paul) in the day before urban renewal (gentrification). Now its as though the whole damn town has the same goal-maybe the have-nots will go to Minneapolis, where they have the propensity of being carted off to the nether regions in the trunks of police cars (more often than not, Dakota people).
Its ironic that many of the former haves now face the same plight-they don't have a clue!
The streets will be clear soon enough-winter approaches, and if you're out there, you could easily freeze to death.
When I was a kid, out of the window of a car (or bus), I saw a shabby man on all fours digging by the lake in MacArthur Park. My mom's friend who I was with, laughed and said he must be digging for gold. I think until now, that was one of the saddest images I carry with me.
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