On their way to work.
http://nuestrabodaenoaxaca.com/
Reigning Sun
Reigning Sun
The Balloon Seller.
The Balloon Seller.
Nuestra Abuelíta en la Zocala
Nuestra Abuelíta en la Zocala
Fountain of Age Having Drowned My Youth
Fountain of Age Having Drowned My Youth
He leans in, over his bicycle handlebars and says...
Dear Anonymous,
He leans in, over his bicycle handlebars and says,
'They know my name up at the coffee shop. And I like that.'
Chris.
And I, who cannot remember names worth s**t, remembered his last name.
We both were a bit startled. We both smiled.
He says something like 'Get it. girl.'
And I laugh.
He's soiled again. Won't go to the doctor.
Dear Anonymous,
He's soiled again. Won't go to the doctor. 'Everyone in my family goes to the doctor comes home dead.'
I am in no place to fight with that logic.
But I have dry pants for him.
Mike says,
'My night was SO bad, I NEED this today.' And he means delivering more toys. Toddler lego tables and bags of pieces and an assortment of dolls and Hotwheels and a little action figure one of his little buddies requested.
'He'll be so excited!'
He is organized and has a plan to distribute them.
One of them, often sited for being 'difficult', has upset the group by defecating in the 24 Hour ATM and depositing the waste in the deposit drawer. At least this is the story.
'Gives us homeless guys a bad name.'
Socks. Coffee cards. Good mornings. And bad.
Another man who is new to me and sort of embarrassed by wearing a donated barn coat with a white denim collar. It's all he has and is not ungrateful for it but asks,
'Can you help me out?'
A trade in on the coat and he's outfitted in a new lightweight down coat, a new hoodie, a clean tshirt and some beautiful donated shirts.
And he's back in action.
'Gosh. This turned my whole day around.'
Thanks Dear Anonymous.
Only because you are rooted in the mud.
Only because you are rooted in the mud.
Un hombre muy simpático.
When I asked permission to photograph one of the many shrines in this market this merchant removed his hanging display of bags and baskets to offer me an unobstructed view.
Un hombre muy simpático.
When I visit Oaxaca I often spend time at the children's library.
When I visit Oaxaca I often spend time at the children’s’ library. A beautiful space that integrates exterior and interior beautifully. It is quiet and a welcome respite from the busy markets and street scene. I sit in the toddlers room trying to read the little fairy tale books so I can maybe learn some Spanish. It's tough going for me even with the baby books. But I'll keep at it.
The children are so well behaved here. Generally so happy. The adults quiet and loving.
Oaxaca Mexico
Oaxaca Mexico
Oaxaca Mexico
Oaxaca Mexico
So Oaxaca
So Oaxaca
I am stunned by the beauty in her vulnerability.
Dear Anonymous,
I know, though she gave me permission, she may not like this image. For me I am stunned by the beauty in her vulnerability. I share it because it helps describe the street. The tincture of Desperation and Resiliency. The tonic of survival.
Her wild beauty. Her difficulty. Her struggle. Her gratitude.
The impossible task of being ok when things may not be ok.
Shares that her grandfather was an Irish born boxer. She puts up her hands and lowers her head and dances the steps of a fighter in the ring.
'I was born trainin' in utero!'
Thank you Dear Anonymous for the coffee cards, socks, neck warmers and backpacks we could get to her because of you.
I had seen her in the back of the coffee shop and the guys told me she was there and may need a few things.
Dear Anonymous,
I had seen her in the back of the coffee shop and the guys told me she was there and may need a few things.
She was out all night. Luckily had a great coat from the resource center. But not much else. Says her backpack was stolen.
Thank you Dear Anonymous, we were able to set her up with a backpack filled with a blanket, socks, coffee card, personal hygiene products, neck warmer, jacket and scarf.
She requested tweezers and make up. Neither of which I have. But I'll keep my eyes open : )
She was grateful. Not that that's a prerequisite here, it's just that I want to share her appreciation.
Another young man is struggling with his feet. The guys surrounding him have a lot of empathy. Bad feet on the street is a recipe for agony. He's got huge blisters all around his heel and foot. The guys get it when we hand him extra socks. But the look in the young mans' eyes will stay with me. Haunt me. Nudge at me. It was a look of desperation. Nothing to veil his lostness. His woundedness. The look of an exhausted bird looking for a place to land and just can't find one. It was the look of hopelessness trying to convince itself all was not lost.
There is a woman who gathers backpacks for us. She does this honoring her daughter who spent time on the street.
Dear Anonymous,
There is a woman who gathers backpacks for us. Literally drops off 20 or so at a time. She does this honoring her daughter who spent time on the street. Who died of overdose this year. Thank you #maggiesmission. Those backpacks fly out of my car. Thank you.
Mike snagged this one this morning and showed us why....his first tattoo from age 13. A devil. And the backpack was a match.
He had been out all night. No bathrooms available. Sometimes things don't go so well. He needed a change of clothes when I arrived. Can you imagine?
Meanwhile socks. Socks. Socks.
His eyes have always spoken a story that may not be word ripe. That transcends the streets.
Dear Anonymous,
And another this morning of Tyler.
His eyes have always spoken a story that may not be word ripe. That transcends the streets.
Here he is again. Can't quite get enough of that smile. He is grateful. Appreciative. he is thanking YOU.
Dear Anonymous,
Here he is again. Can't quite get enough of that smile.
He is grateful. Appreciative. he is thanking YOU.
Had the honor to witness Amy Stacey Curtis responding to her beloved mill in Lewiston yesterday. Love it is.
Had the honor to witness Amy Stacey Curtis responding to her beloved mill in Lewiston yesterday. Love it is.
“Joanne Arnold took this photograph of me yesterday at Bates Mill in Lewiston, Maine, site for my 1st and 9th solo biennials. Although we were there together, I didn't know she had seen me, was seeing me. I missed the smell of the oil in the floor, missed how far away the end of the bay was, missed sweeping the floor. I had no idea I could hug the mill until I did it, nor how much I needed to, no idea it could hug me back.”
The streets were busy this morning and there must have been twelve guys waiting when I pulled up.
Dear Anonymous,
Just one more. The streets were busy this morning and there must have been twelve guys waiting when I pulled up. But I include this one for a reason.
He has just received this brand new camouflage hoodie. And it fits. And he likes it and he is looking all bad ass and wonderful and then he throws me this crab shot and we all laugh. We laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
A new hoodie. Dignity. Respect. It allows him to be a bit more human and connected not discounted quite as quickly. Not walked around as if he has a plague or worse, doesn't exist.
It allows at least this moment moving away from desperation instead of staring at it like a freight train headed your way.
Thank you Dear Anonymous.