tom stone

statement

i photograph people who skirt the edges of things; people whose connection to the broader flow is murky or obscured. mistaken as more, less or different than they are; they aren’t really seen and don’t really belong. that’s everyone sometimes; but some more often. i try to establish a line for a moment. i hope to connect. and i see the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking things. 

to my thinking, the original human trauma is our separation. we are too close not to need each other; and too far to trust each other. we rely on dubious senses and clever devices to interact; but we are alone in our thoughts. lonely, insecure and uncertain; we pair, we group, we associate. we try to belong and we seek to exclude. we form bonds by geography, religion, economy and otherwise. but it is all precarious. we come together and we drive apart. 

and we climb our ladder. we step away from those who don’t belong and help those who do. we are connected rung by rung – though less and less – as we push and pull. but some do not climb; and below, the earth is littered with them. they fit too poorly. they stand apart. they stand without.  

and what of them; these ones who don’t belong or who are excluded; who don’t fit or don’t try? is there nothing they value? is there nothing of them we value? i count it as a measure of our ignorance, the depth of poverty in the world. it’s a glaring marker to how far we have not come. yet it has also driven our advance; on less fortunate backs and against less fortunate fate.  

but is there really no connection there? does such fate – whether choice or circumstance – speak nothing of us? tell me we do more than advance in place; with so many left behind. or promise me we can do better. say we can reflect ourselves; us and them... that we can see the ways we overlap and distinguish the ways we grow apart. and pledge that we can learn; to fit all of our misshapes; to reward value beyond charity and beyond the marketplace; to be better to each other; to be better ourselves. and promise me it could be a better world. or tell me we are at our best. 

  • YOUNG HOMELESS MAN BEAVIS, SAN FRANCISCO, AUGUST 2006young homeless man beavis shooting up in the tenderloin. he picks his scabs to find a good spot; and tries a few locations before he gets a vein. he has the {quote}love{quote} and {quote}hate{quote} tattos from {quote}night of the hunter{quote} on his fingers. he's showing {quote}love{quote} with his right hand as he sticks the needle in.beavis knows everyone on the street. he is tremendously literate and articulate and a really great artist. beavis is one of the reasons i take pictures of the homeless.i met him in october of '05 (10/6/05) near union square. he was hurriedly moving along the sidwalk checking for change in the pay phone, sifting through trash bins, etc. he looked over at me and just had an amazing presence in his eyes. i continued walking, and then had to turn back and ask if i could take his picture.he told me how he used to have a big mohawk and how he used to let tourists take pictures of him in fishermans' warf for 15 bucks. we chatted for a short bit and had a great rapport. when i was leaving, he told me to check out the time magazine from november '94 (11/21/94); said there's a picture of him in it as a streetkid (about 14 or so) in la.the picture i took was crap (bad lighting) and i never posted it, but i emailed it to the time magazine photographer (steve liss) who had met beavis so many years before. steve was amazed to hear about beavis and said he has the portrait of him hanging in his home (i've included it in the comment below). he'd lost touch with beavis over the years. he said if i ever see beavis again to put them in contact.but i didn't see beavis again until june of this year (6/5/06); eight months later. i saw someone that looked familiar on the sidewalk one morning hunched over. i walked up to him and, recognizing him better, asked if he was beavis. he said yes. he said he was just waking up and he needed a fix.we talked for a long time. then his friend james (photo: {quote}life and death{quote}) came over and beavis introduced us.since then i see beavis most days. we always chat and he introduces me to his friends.(8/3/06)
  • MAN ON SIDEWALK, SAN FRANCISCO, AUGUST 2009there's a fury in his face that disconcerts. it's a face of frozen aggression. a jumble of feelings and impulses caught mid stream. like he's on a tightrope that's ready to snap.i expect a torrent as i approach. he sits in a knot or a coil. his hands and the whole of him seem to struggle with some burden or beast in the backpack at his knees. but it's motion caught still as he remains unmoved. and all i receive to my greeting is a reasoned pause.his speech is clear and calm. a world from his appearance. he's dexter. he's guarding a hoard of industrial metal parts and panels collected from nearby dumpsters. his friend is off to find a cart for transport.says he grew up on the street. with his mom and little sister. he was four -- his sister two -- when child protective services took them away. he didn't hear his ma's voice again until he was twelve.he still lives outdoors on the street. says he receives ssi benefits but just can't stand being confined. says it clouds his thinking. says he doesn't sleep for the same reason. and because of the psychotic dreams; which make him hate himself more than normal. says it's not too hard to stay awake, especially with the antidepressants.last time he spoke with his mother was '95. he was living in texas at the time. it was christmas day. they'd been talking on the phone for a while. and she started shooting up. that was fine, but then she stopped talking. just silence. she overdosed on the spot; on the other end of the line. and he couldn't do a thing.he was 15.her name was colleen.
  • YOUNG HOMELESS MAN, SAN FRANCISCO, MAY 2006homeless brian from atlanta; people call him {quote}freelove.{quote} brian has been on the street since '98. as a child he lived mostly with his mother; and moved from state to state quite frequently.brian believes that the soul is not part of the body; rather that the body is part of the soul. he believes that his larger soul is extremely fragmented and possesses many incarnations; some simultaneous. he has memories from his other souls and his other bodies. he sometimes refers to them as ghosts; sometimes as dreams.he describes memories as a child of how his ghosts were used for physical acts by various family members and how his soul was sold to strangers.he describes how at 16 he was being used by a woman he didn't know. or it was a dream. or it was his ghost. but then he knew her and it was his mother. and she told him he was committing a sin and how could he be so sinful. and she tried to {quote}crush{quote} him as she tried to make him repent his sin.he believes that people you know can be connected to your seven chakras and thus be a part of you. his {quote}root{quote} chakra is a chinese girl he knew in '95 named ann. he met her in sacramento when he was living with his mother. he thought she was a gift and he didn't know how he had gotten so lucky. ann was there visiting a friend or such. she worked in a dotcom in sunnyvale.some time later, he went after her to sunnyvale to try and find her. he found her, but she would only see him in secret once a week and would make him call her daily in case she wanted to see him the following day. he was confused by her behavior and missed a day. he never saw her again. he felt her loss like a blow to the {quote}solar plexus{quote} and thus associates her with his {quote}root{quote} chakra. she is the love of his life.he says people are bad to him and people use him. he says, about 2 years back, his mother surgically removed his heart and sold it; and had him committed to a mental institution. he says his heart was his hero and he can no longer be a hero without that heart. but he says he had a spare {quote}less modern{quote} heart as a backup.he says things keep getting worse for him. he says he sold his soul to the devil so as to stop his slide. he says he's given himself to evil so that when others do evil to him, it can be no worse. he doesn't believe in actually doing evil to others, however. he says he visits hell frequently. he says that satan is his mistress; but that he's trying to reform {quote}her{quote} so that there will be no more evil in the world.but he's not sure he can. and he feels he's gone too far. he says he needs help soon. he hopes that someone will give him a way out. but he doesn't believe there's much time. he says soon he won't be able to turn back. but for now, there's still time.(5/15/06)
  • GIRL IN ALLEY, SAN FRANCISCO, MARCH 2007there's a weight that seems to have crushed her. she's hunched as she steps in quick stabs. she drifts in place and hobbles away. she's frail. like every new blow breaks more than its share.it's dirty here. and hopeless. the alley smells like urine. the faces turn away as you pass. or they stare expectantly.she's yelled at by a man as he approaches. and as he leaves.she needs five bucks.she's young. she smiles like a spotlight. her eyes speak. but she has trouble.her name is sheina, but people call her sunday.and there are moments when you can see the girl she was going to be.
  • HOMELESS MAN, SAN FRANCISCO, FEBRUARY 2007he's down a path that ends abruptly. i hear him first. exaltation or fear. it's unclear. but there's a rhythm to it.it's a court and a spotlight if i approach. he's spread on the concrete. sounding wild. looking forward but not seeing.i pass.but i think better. or worse. and return unsure.it's narrow and direct as i take the course. i'm watched and then stopped.he yells at how i come. and raises two fingers. peace. i raise my own and say {quote}i do{quote}and i ask if i can take his picture.but then i'm ignored as i join some audience. and he starts a long strange scat punctuated by abrupt clicks and long pauses. there are no words.and then he stops and says {quote}yes you can take my picture; do you have a release?{quote}i tell him i don't. at which he raises his two fingers again and says {quote}we can use this.{quote} i do the same.and now he begins to sing. of the northern and southern hemispheres and of men.he says he is the original human and he has a sacred duty. he says his name is {quote}SALBA{quote}. he says it roundly and repeats it. he says that he lives on planet earth and was born in san francisco.and then he yells about me for some time over his right shoulder. and then returns to me.he says he was in his third trimester in his mother's womb when the U.S. bombed nagasaki. just as he was becoming human. and that he passed them on his landing. he's caught by something overwhelming as he says this. like he's yelling in silence. like the whole of him is clenched in a fist. like he's washed in a great sadness.he asks me if i'm awake in my dreams. i tell him that i am sometimes.{quote}and what do you do?{quote}but i am unsure. he presses.i tell him i try to act; try to control; that i try to consciously interact with people; but that it's hard; so mostly i just observe.he asks if i ever touch them.and i say that i guess so.he tells me that next time i should touch those i meet in my dreams and say to them {quote}awake! awaken!{quote}he says his thing is structures; not people. he touches structures and says to them as i'm to say.then he says {quote}do that for me{quote}i tell him i will.we strike fists and he smiles for a quiet moment. but as i leave there's wildness and noise.
  • PHILIP | SAN FRANCISCO | MAY 27, 2011.he doesn't remember me from before.  nor the life he told me of then.  may 12, 2006, a picture never shared.  but he remembers oregon as a child. the air is nearly warm and the night about to start.  he's turning down; extending his bag for sleep.  not much time for me.  gotta be ready for a big day tomorrow in the service.been in the service since the beginning.  previous action was on the sands of syria.  the current, here, he won't describe.  but there's only a year left to the whole thing.  less actually.  {quote}we're pulling out in 2012.{quote}  can't talk about it, but should happen in april.  people don't know about it yet.then what?then he'll finally return to that little mediteranean island off the spanish coast.  doesn't have a name; just goes by 1052.  was there once; best place he's ever been.  it's tranquil and serene with waterfalls and amazing beauty.{quote}you might call it an eden{quote}
  • HOMELESS JASON | SAN FRANCISCO | AUGUST 18, 2010.tears well like pain or love and he's gasping for air.  says he wants to make it to christmas to see his dad in jersey.  he's getting bought a ticket. hasn't seen him in 8 years.name's jason.  he was born in pennsylvania. parents split when he was two.  he's forty-two now.  mother lives in stockton.  says she's more beautiful than i could imagine.  says he's got her eyes but looks like his dad.started off with his ma, but lived with his father from five to eighteen.  then he hit a rut.  was wasting away in stockton when desert storm started up.  enlisted straight away to get the hell out of town.  says he served two tours.  and made lieutenant as an intelligence officer.the friends he left, well they're dead, in jail, or as good as.  so not the worst choice.  but not the best choice either.  cause he can't forget the war.  what he saw and what he did.  says he can't forgive what he did.  but it's war, right? what can you do?...and well, he just misses his dad.  and the tears come too strong to breathe.  {quote}pretty close?{quote}wouldn't say that. dad couldn't give what his own father never gave. how could he?{quote}encouragement? support?...{quote}nahh.  shakes his head.tries for words but instead he crosses his arms to show.  and bends to the pavement like he's embracing a child or himself.
  • HOMELESS GIRL, SAN FRANCISCO, APRIL 2006homeless leilana sitting against trash can on sidewalk. she had just been in a fight so her eyes are swollen. sleeps in the park, which she's done since coming to sf 8 years ago. she got here by hitching from east coast; doing {quote}whatever{quote} to make a buck along the way.she has a few raw sores on her face mostly hidden by her hair. i've seen her around for a while now, usually sitting huddled somewhere staring at nothing. i worried she might have some mental / emotional problems from how she acted, but talking to her, she seems fine.but she's clearly weary and has moments where the thoughts and memories going through her head seem to chill her thoroughly.she says she's trying to take a vacation from fucking herself up.(4/3/06)
  • GIRL ON PAVEMENT, SAN FRANCISCO, MARCH 2007the girl sits small. like she's alone in a tiny space. withdrawn into some shell. away from all noises and everything.a woman sits beside her on the sidewalk. a jacket covering her where she sits. they're an odd pair. occasionally they exchange words and glances.the girl is from oregon. eugene. her name is cierra {quote}with a 'c' not an 's' {quote}. she's been in san francisco for about a year. she's been downtown for less time. she doesn't like it. she was in the haight before. she liked that.she says she made certain choices. and one result was where she had to be.{quote}choices{quote} the woman echoes. {quote}that's a nice way to put it.{quote}the woman's name is vicki. says she had waited here for cierra a long time before she finally saw her.vicki just came down from oregon. she's cierra's mother.she came to see if cierra would let herself be {quote}saved{quote}.
  • YOUNG HOMELESS MAN, SAN FRANCISCO, DECEMBER 2007the crowd is crushing and oppressive. joyful tidings of retail cheer. the clouds hover just beyond reach. the rain patters lightly; an incessant timepiece. and a figure rests like a stone beneath; drawn to the earth but apart from it. ground down.it was acid that started the trip. dropped at 16. a welcoming introduction. a young {quote}cole{quote} no more. and texas couldn't hold his burn for long. nor jails dampen it. at 21 he flew; but was wanted. he made it to california, but would serve again and more in texas before he was 25. and elsewhere after.but his love stood by him. a drifter who got a job and apartment to support and console him in jail. and thirteen years later they would be together; drifting homeless or shacked in $35 hotels.no one's ever done more. certainly not the woman who carried him in her womb; but no further. perhaps her father did as much, caring for the child alone; but he died when an eight year old needs more. and adoption was a hollow thing at best.yes, this drifter stood by him unlike the others.but then, again, no more. a month or more alone. and counting.yet he's here for heroin more than anything else. or anyone. the city has endless supply and sale pricing. so he has that.and the dope was good for christmas. though he missed extra company. he struggles with recent memories; but is sure of both these.so he's looking for someone new. that's really on his mind. but john is equally in his head.because he still cares for him. and he still keeps up with him. and watches out for him.he wants to be sure john doesn't get burned too hard by the new flame.{quote}sometimes you deserve it. and sometimes you want it; it's fun for a while.{quote}but it can go too far and get too deep.so he's keeping an eye out for his friend.that's all.
  • HOMELESS WOMAN, SAN FRANCISCO, JUNE 2006homeless lorraine from the bay area. she's about 65. says she used to live in shelters but she speaks her mind and people don't like that. says she's better off on her own.says she has her child with her though; a baby. well, not with her now; says she's hidden it so it'll be safe.(6/11/06)
  • HOMELESS MAN, SAN FRANCISCO, APRIL 2009he's mammoth versus rourke's wrestler and rougher on the edges. he's a frightful form towering forth vengefully spitting curses. sandaled, his feet are cracked and caked with crusty flakes.i expect venom as i approach. but oddly he's least frightening up close. somehow i'm less aware of his hulking size. it helps when he's seated rolling butts into a makeshift cigar with paper ripped from a bag.he seems a trick of the light. seen differently by the angle. a change in vantage more than character. but he has a genuine warmth now as i sit below watching his recline on a doorway stoop. all about, easter revelers pass in a different world.name's türk from stuttgart; born in 62. mom's in germany now. he doesn't guess she has long to go. spoke with her last week. he'd like to visit before she passes, but hasn't figured how.there's great confusion in him.there's clarity as he relates fly fishing in kentucky or his left forward play in high school in gainesville. we talk about his leaving high school early; never returning, though he'd thought he would. about the lives he's lived; and the lifestyles.but there's darkness all about. holes that he fills with fantasy and intrigue. they jumble and grind to a halt every time. and frustrated he says {quote}but you understand right?{quote}i smile and say {quote}yes, i understand.{quote}
  • HOMELESS WOMAN IN TENDERLOIN, SAN FRANCISCO, MARCH 2006homeless geraldine from new york panhandling on the sidewalk. her eyes are bright red and irritated. as i kneeled, a passing homeless man mumbled {quote}she's in bad shape man{quote}. indeed, people were clearly trying to avoid her.geraldine seems to have number of things going on in her head at once. when addressed, she responds, but typically includes numerous additional trains of thought. when asked if i could take her picture, {quote}yes. yes you can.{quote}when asked about herself she describes herself in one moment as an actress ({quote}wuthering heights{quote} actress geraldine fitzgerald), in a another moment as {quote}a whore{quote}, and in another moment, otherwise.when asked, she says she had one friend. but she lost him and doesn't know where he is.
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