There's this old woman who walks up and down the main strip in San Marco at night. I've seen her several times now. It is guaranteed that she will make her way to the San Marco Theatre, stand outside the main doors and peer inside at the person manning the cash register. She's always wearing the same thing: a large-floral print, button-down shirt with an ankle length navy blue skirt and loafers. Her gray hair is in a loose, low bun and her glasses sit a bit crooked on her nose. Her leathery arms are always folded. I discovered by eavesdropping at the theatre that she asks, everyday, to see a movie for free, even if it's the same movie. After all, SMT only plays one movie per night, two per day if they're feeling ambitious. So, she stands there staring at the owners until they cave in or until they outwardly deny her access.
I wonder where this woman is from, how she got here, why she always wears the same clothes, why I only see her at night, and if she has a place to stay. And she probably wonders why I'm always at the same Starbucks sketching...that is, if she even notices. She doesn't seem to see anything except for what's directly in front of her.
Over the past few months, I've become more and more curious about the bums (or those who seem like bums) around Riverside and San Marco. I see the same ones almost every day, and when I don't see them for a while, I worry that they're not alive anymore or that they've been hurt. This is especially true for the black man I see stumbling up and down Stockton, always carrying a big trash bag and wearing shoes that barely have a sole and a striped shirt that looks like it used to be gray and white horizontal stripes; now it's just brown. He's always wandering halfway in the south-bound lane, traffic having to purposefully avoid him. He worries me the most.
I have half a mind to stop and ask all those same questions I'd like to ask that woman, but things like common sense and fear stop that from happening. Still, I can't help my curiosity and my desire to know what it is they need. I'd like to photograph them and write their story, but that just seems like exploitation.
2 comments:
The observations of an artist. I love it. I remember reading an article about Paul Newman who, when he was an unknown actor in NY, loved hanging out in the bus stations to observe people.
I too will see the same people occasionally and wonder how they got where they are. There's this one guy who's always walking the parking lot of a big mall. He's got long dreadlocks and is quite handsome, actually. But, he's always engaged in an intense conversation with someone who no one else can see.
I too have felt the urge to connect, but not knowing any of the people's past and what got them there, their temperament, etc., I am reluctant. And I feel I have failed him.
Am I being weak or smart. I don't know.
I share both of your concerns and feelings. While in Atlanta, I passed the same people every morning on the drive to work and the walk from the parking garage to my office. There were soooo many. I've often wondered who they were "before" and what was the turning point? The truth is that what they really need is alot. Alot of love.
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