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At that moment, in that encounter, what is there for the photographer to do more than respect the space needed for the subject to feel ready… contextualized by their surroundings. appearing authentically self-actualized and comported at the moment their gaze finds the lens and our own gaze (the viewer of the resulting image).

Borana girl with grandmother. Sololo, Kenya
Then we tend to read all kinds of narratives into the image based on prior knowledge. So it’s a lot to ask of someone when that moment occurs, and while it’s often a furtive moment (taken away in silver halide crystals), there are times it pulls at the heartstrings as you wish you could be sure you were conveying the gratitude you felt for the privilege of being allowed to render the fossilized image…

Karimojong family, Uganda
At the same time, they are just “snaps” to the vernacular crowd, which is everyone else, including some in this group portrait…
“When does enough turn out to be enough– when do we leave reasonably satisfied, and if so, with what messages given to the people with whom we have worked? What is our responsibility to such people … When does honorable inquiry turn into an exercise in manipulative self-interest, even ‘exploitation’?”
* Robert Coles, Doing Documentary Work

What survived for several months as a collective, familial effort to hold things together among the concrete bridges, ramps, sidewalks and cul de sacs has morphed into something even less optimistic, if that’s a term that could ever be used. Terry and Amy are occupying the narrowest strip of asphalt imaginable on an off-ramp, certain by be rousted out again soon, only to build camp somewhere else in the vicinity or do a spell behind bars; Gracie is now rooming with a couple Craig once denounced as grifters and opportunists; Lynda clings tenuously to a modicum of sane, reasoned hope, with her artworks finally about to go on public display at an Art Walk, on invitation from a local politician’s office.
Discovering Lynda’s new kitty brings a feeling of hope and tenderness that is minutes later dampened by Craig’s terse recounting of his recent confrontation with law enforcement nemesis Officer Diaz, which he retells with tired and pitiless eyes as an impasse during which both men reportedly told the other that they never want to see each other again. With their dead-end encampment now overrun with the hoardings of others and no longer the place of relative solitude it proved to be for several weeks, Craig may be getting harassed (two new tickets and counting) out of what he calls Diaz’s “perimeter,” and threatens now to seek less hostile pastures.

56.11 tent violation, for an abode blocking a remote dead end sidewalk where nobody walks.

I had a very interesting 15-minute conversation with Gracie as she panhandled on the off-ramp this afternoon. As she brought me up to date on the whereabouts and news of the others, I commented on the way most drivers and passengers looked the other way or straight ahead as they passed by or sat waiting for the light to turn green. She responded by coming up with a new slogan for her next sign, “those who can, don’t, and those who can’t, do…” It’s a telling bromide and one that can join “homeless, not hopeless,” and “not homeless, houseless,” among the battle cries written with markers on cardboard.
As much to mollify Gracie as to justify my presence on that freeway offramp, I told her how I wished (and have proposed) that each and every one of the people who are on display as 4x4ft prints in City Hall could have their lives intervened in by the city’s social services departments, with something positive being done for each of them. I swore out loud in frustration that instead, she is still out there… then she swore and I told her not to copy my bad habits and we laughed, and the people looking at us from their car windows might have thought, well they don’t look so miserable after all…

Skid Row’s Silver Lining …
Many people associate the term “skid row” with an end-of-the-line, bottom-of-the-barrel location where the poorest of the poor end up, either mentally ill or strung out on one illegal substance or another. Life skids to a halt here, by this reasoning. But the actual origin of the name refers to the skid marks left by the lumber dragged through the streets in times long since past. General Jeff, known in some circles as the unelected “mayor” of Skid Row, insists that those who want to change Skid Row’s name to something less stigmatized, for commercial or other reasons, are wasting their time. Skid Row’s many problems, including its status as the epicenter of homelessness in Los Angeles and perhaps the entire country, does not mean its people and history should be forsaken or erased, especially not for public relations purposes. To the contrary, he and others fighting for the souls that live there believe that redemption will come not from sanctimony or patronage, but from an insistence on better representation and policies toward the community.

If you want to at least scratch the surface of the mind-bending situation in Skid Row today, General Jeff is the right person to start with. The South-Central native has taken on what should be respected as one of the hardest jobs in Los Angeles– to keep things moving in a positive direction in the face of the common sense deficit that plagues the social service, political and law enforcement sectors… General Jeff does in fact fill the void left by a lack of action from City Hall, involved in all aspects of Skid Row life. Mayor or not, he’s been at the forefront of the ongoing move to obtain Neighborhood Council representation for the community. He wants the local businesses in the area to be more understanding and responsive to the residents. To steer the population away from associations with the lowest common denominators of popular culture he fights to have salacious billboards advertising the sex-industry taken down.
Touring the area with General Jeff is a lesson in both history and civics. He is greeted in the streets with respect and love, fist bumps and handshakes. The landmark mural, created in the image of a traffic sign, is his bold proposition that Skid Row deserves to be respected and taken seriously as something more than the dead end it is dismissed as. Asserting sovereignty for residents who cannot afford or survive gentrification, to use one example Jeff looks at the fishing industry’s use of prime real estate within the Skid Row borders for storage and distribution as a symbol of inequality and the disconnect between the business world and the people. His movement would be happy to see the business owners take a more balanced interest in the welfare of those they are keeping off their properties with coils of razor wire, security gates and fencing, or just dull, windowless, undecorated walls.

The door in the background was once the entry to the Salvation Army kitchen, located in one of the many early 20th century buildings in the area. That this particular building stands is in disrepair is a symbolic and ironic testimony to failed philanthropy.

With four major missions and numerous other charity organizations, Skid Row on a Sunday morning features sidewalk sermons, with people lining up in several locations for meals and other services. General Jeff firmly believes that not enough scrutiny is paid to the operations of the charity industry, and also decries the “shell game” that is too-often played by governmental bodies at the expense of the Skid Row community, hindering real development and making it more difficult for the residents to rise up.





General Jeff is frequently approached with questions and concerns. He is known as a fearless and tireless representative of the community, and does not suffer fools gladly…

Along with the tents and tarps that line the sidewalks on most streets in Skid Row, the most glaring sign of municipal neglect is the sheer volume of trash gathering in the gutters and elsewhere. One of many concerns is the pollution caused by this trash (which includes syringes and other toxins) entering the drainage system openings along the curbs … one wonders how often city sanitation trucks visit these streets.

Outside the Hippie Kitchen, where meals and other services have been provided since the late 1960s…

Mural in progress by Dimitri; General Jeff speaks adamantly about bringing positive imagery and lively colors to the community, to counter the oppressive facelessness and the outdated negative artwork that currently marks much of the industrial and commercial property on Skid Row.




This is the cliché that has come to represent Skid Row. It is a common sight and a sobering reminder of the enormity of the task.

A stark reminder of how dangerous life can be; burn marks on the wall where a tent was torched in retribution for an unpaid debt.
