Juan and I
I’ve written about this before, but urban photography poses unique challenges. One of those is a sense for the personal security and safety threats inherent to the urban scene. On a recent multi-day photo trip to my all-time favorite U.S. city, Pittsburgh, I had a novel experience. To be clear, this is not a negative story about homeless humans on the streets of American cities. Instead, it’s a story of the meeting of two strangers that could’ve gone sideways in all the ways we read about when we read about street violence.
The circumstance: I was the middle of a multiday photo trip to Pittsburgh. It was mid-afternoon. I walked to a particular Victorian-era building which first captivated me in my earliest years of amateur photography. Then, I did not know how to fit that beautiful building into the proper lens in an effective composition. In my portfolio, the building image is “Craftsman Masterpiece.” If it is not currently viewable on the site, it is out of display cycle. Anyhow…
As I stood on the southeastern street corner looking up at this magnificent building, I was working how to best do justice to this extraordinary architectural gem. I was rapt in which lens, what look-up angle, how long to run the long exposure timer, F-stop, etc…all the things a pro has to evaluate before mounting the camera to the top of the tripod. Behind me, I was somewhat aware of a man sitting on the sidewalk on several cardboard pieces who seemed to be chatting up another man. Perhaps the man on the sidewalk was talking at me to get my attention. I was immersed in this building’s shot.
Suddenly a tall shadow appears in front of me. As I make out a pair of well-worn sneakers on two feet inches in front of my feet, I hear a booming voice in a confrontational tone, “What the hell are you doin’ on my street corner?!” Reflexively I matched the volume and hostility with, “I’m taking a picture of that building!” The human countered with, “Which building? Did you ask me?”
I replied, “Did I ask you what?” He shot back, “If I was allowing people to use cameras today.” I replied, “Are you kidding me? I drove 200 miles to get this picture and I mean to get it.” He snapped back, “I don’t like your tone.” I did not hold back, ‘Well I don’t like people who stand so close their spit lands on my face.” He stood there assessing me. By now it dawned on me that we were both escalating our tones, volumes, and emotions. I remembered that I don’t do well with surprises on city streets. I lapse into counter-aggression mode.
He raised his right arm and pointed down at me, “I don’t want you to take your pictures!” I stepped back and added two more feet of distance to see the first punch I was sure was about to follow. I was not backing down. Objectively, I had more—much more to lose than he. I had $10,000 of camera gear on my back, he had 3 pieces of cardboard and what he was wearing. He was triggered; so was I. He may have been some degree of drunk, but I had to find a way to deescalate. An off-ramp was the only way I was going to avoid a physical confrontation and maybe get the image I came here for. I was not about to get run off.
De-escalation in the midst of rising voices and tempers is hard, but it’s not impossible. I flashed a brief smile and lowered my voice. I asked, “What can you tell me about that building?” Pointing at my photographic target. Predictably, he was still in confrontation mode, “Don’t try to change the subject!” I stepped to the right and gestured to the building. “I came here 8 years ago. I just couldn’t get this thing right.” Out of the corner of my eye I watched him. He walked behind me then stood on my right, again, close. He seemed to be reconsidering something…
“Well,” he replied, “I think it’s the turtle shells you like.” “Turtle shells?” “Yeah man, I just told you, It’s the turtle shells.” I looked up, “Yeah, I guess it’s the turtle shells.” He changed the subject,” Say, how do you learn to use a camera?” Ah, an opportunity to de-escalate. We had a brief back and forth about how to start taking pictures and then moving beyond that. He seemed interested, if not entertained. He warmed up. He flashed a smile. I extended my hand, “I’m Vince.” He answered with,” I’m Juan.” We shook as two brothers. “I like your shake,” Juan said stepping closer to me, ”You’re strong.” His posture loosened. The smile returned. The moment passed. “So, Juan, I’m thinkin’ about putting my camera here,” I gestured to a spot on the sidewalk, “but I get it, I didn’t ask you for your opinion.” I avoided the permission word.
He came back, “Hey man, I was just talkin’ shit to you. Yeah, this is my sidewalk, but I’m good with it. I can see you got no issues with black people.” I thought about what he said. He went on a riff about living on the sidewalks and the lack of respect he suffered from passersby. At times, he was triggered but in each case the resentment in the moment morphed into painful recollection. “So, Juan, how did you get here? I mean, you and I weren’t born on the sidewalk…” “Well, I had a bad, rough homelife. Lots of drugs, alcohol, and dead people. I’m the only one left.” “That takes a toll.” “Yeah man. It was more than I could take. I started drinkin’, became an alcoholic. Got clean. Was sober for 11 years.” I took that in. “Juan, tell me how your sobriety ended…” He looked away and shuffled. “It was the drugs. I wound up back on the streets. I’ve been here since.” “How many years since?” “Been out here for almost 10 years.” “Juan, that’s a lotta of years on the sidewalk.” He looked down. “I know. I just can’t find a way out…to stay out.” Not a bad person. Only a person with a bad problem.
In the background, my eyes went to the building as light sunlight increased then darkened as the thick clouds raced overhead. I kept wondering if I had enough time to get this shot before the next round of storms moved in from eastern Ohio. “Juan, when was the last time you ate?” “Been a couple of days.” I pulled out my billfold. Standing in front of him I did something out of character for me, I opened my billfold. He glanced down into it. I pulled out a 20 and handed it to him. “Hey man, you don’t have to do that.” “Juan you can’t get a decent meal for 5 bucks. Let me do this.” He took the money. He looked down at his cardboard. “Is that all you got?” I asked. “Yeah man. Those two jackets there. I been in a long rough patch brother.” I thought about my hotel room and the bed I slept on across town.
He leaned in, “Vince, I’m gonna step over to that little store and get me somethin’.” I pointed to the building, “And I’m gonna try to get this shot.” We bumped fists. “Thanks Vince.” He stepped away. I got busy. After 10 minutes I was certain I’d gotten the shot. I broke down my equipment and reloaded my backpack. I stood there. A minute passed. Juan did not step out of the store. I took out my phone and checked the weather app. I estimated I had 45 minutes until the next storms would be on top of me. I moved out. The next shot location was another building that evaded earlier efforts. Not today. The clouds darkened.
When the rain came, it fell in torrents. I found a Starbucks, ducked inside, cleared some of the water off, bought a cup of coffee, and waited for the rain to eventually cease. I thought of Juan and all that he related of his life. I thought of what I’d learned about another man, his troubles and challenges. My photography created the circumstances of the encounter. That was not my fault nor Juan’s. In the end, two humans learned how to relate to someone different, but not exclusively through anger. A takeaway for me is that my urban photography has to include how to relate to the people who find themselves living on the streets where I do my work. In a bigger sense, no one begins life with an ambition of being homeless. We wind up there. Life is hard. It breaks some but no one is unchanged by life’s force.
Juan, I hope you find a dry, safe place to sleep tonight. If I see you again, I’ll make sure to ask if it’s okay that I shoot on your corner. Be ready, I may ask you about the building in front of us. Meanwhile, I hope we both find what we are looking for…and need.
