I needed an extra set of eyes watching my suroundings as I concentrated on what I was doing. In
the beginning I had tried to have my friends act as bodyguards or translators
when I went out to photograph shantytowns. After one visit none of them
would do it again. They had no tolerance for the smells or the people. My own
boyfriend who I latter married had great distain for this project.
One
friend who translated for me had her brother murdered by a homeless man a week
after she helped me. Since then she didn’t want anything to do with my
documentary. I totally understood. I knew that if I didn’t play by the rules
around there I too could find myself in harms way.
It was quickly apparent that if I really wanted to do this project I had to do it alone. I continued on without having anyone watching my back while my eyes were focused on what I was shooting.
A few times I wandered into camps of crack addict’s and they would be so sweet. Then I would go again not knowing that their juice was just supplied and I would have a totally different experience. When high they lose their inhibition and anything is possible. They wanted rides in my car and requested the socks on my feet. You name it. I gave out some food and left quickly.
Regardless of where I went there was always someone with a good heart who would step up and take care of me. One such day I stopped at a new location where a whole city was built of cardboard boxes. There was not a single woman around. When I approached the group they were overly friendly. I was loaded down with Hasselblad camera equipment and I was trying to give the speel about why I was there.
A stranger approached me immediately from behind and said we need to talk. He said “Mam I know who you are. These guys just got high. You are pretty and you are holding thousands of dollars of equipment. I like what you are doing but this is a bad place for you to be right now. If you were smart. You would leave.” He escorted me to my car and said. “I have your back.” He was right about that. He certainly did. As I looked over at the pack of men surrounded by cardboard I knew I missed a photo op but no doubt it wasn’t worth it. That camp didn’t last very long. Within days those men had dispersed.
It was apparent to me the only way I could continue to move forward was to have homeless people in the camps as escorts. Over time they told me the low down of who to avoid and who to trust. Oh how people love to gossip. I frequented the locations were I had the most respect for the people. I stayed away from the hardcore drug addicts in places like Overtown. I gravitated towards the transvestites, alcoholics, runaways, families and illegal immigrants.
Without the assistance of the homeless people in the camps I would have never been able to create this work.
It was quickly apparent that if I really wanted to do this project I had to do it alone. I continued on without having anyone watching my back while my eyes were focused on what I was shooting.
A few times I wandered into camps of crack addict’s and they would be so sweet. Then I would go again not knowing that their juice was just supplied and I would have a totally different experience. When high they lose their inhibition and anything is possible. They wanted rides in my car and requested the socks on my feet. You name it. I gave out some food and left quickly.
Regardless of where I went there was always someone with a good heart who would step up and take care of me. One such day I stopped at a new location where a whole city was built of cardboard boxes. There was not a single woman around. When I approached the group they were overly friendly. I was loaded down with Hasselblad camera equipment and I was trying to give the speel about why I was there.
A stranger approached me immediately from behind and said we need to talk. He said “Mam I know who you are. These guys just got high. You are pretty and you are holding thousands of dollars of equipment. I like what you are doing but this is a bad place for you to be right now. If you were smart. You would leave.” He escorted me to my car and said. “I have your back.” He was right about that. He certainly did. As I looked over at the pack of men surrounded by cardboard I knew I missed a photo op but no doubt it wasn’t worth it. That camp didn’t last very long. Within days those men had dispersed.
It was apparent to me the only way I could continue to move forward was to have homeless people in the camps as escorts. Over time they told me the low down of who to avoid and who to trust. Oh how people love to gossip. I frequented the locations were I had the most respect for the people. I stayed away from the hardcore drug addicts in places like Overtown. I gravitated towards the transvestites, alcoholics, runaways, families and illegal immigrants.
Without the assistance of the homeless people in the camps I would have never been able to create this work.
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