Free Friends and Family Photo Day at the Lodi Laundry

On Sunday, September 19, 2010 I held the first free photography day at the Lodi Laudrymat where the owner "Xai" and her husband let me set up my computer and printer on one of the counters for folding laundry.   The first few people I offered to take pictures of declined, either because they didn't want one, or it was against their religion, or their mother was there and it was against her's. But after the first picture got printed, it was hard to fit everyone in that wanted one in the time I had set aside. I promised the people that I turned away that I'd come back and  set up another time.

I love this work/play, which is perhaps the "work of fiction" I've chosen to live. Here's a quote from Dimitri Orlov to put that sentence in context:


"Don't hope, don't wish, don't dream, but do write your own fiction
and use it to create a present that works for you. Invent places for
yourself and for those you care about in your stories about the
future, and then go ahead and live in them.You don't have to settle
for anyone else's “B”-rated nonsense. And don't let anyone tell you
that you are crazy or that you are living in a dream. It's not a
dream, dammit, it's a work of fiction!"

And here are a few pictures from the day. I'm holding back on the ones of kids until I talk to the parents.

Hippie Lady, I'm from Bedrock

 Paintbrush in hand, back to the street, I heard someone politely ask if I would move my bicycle out of the way so that she could sit down on the concrete wall that doubled as a bench at the front end of the shelter.  I hadn't heard the young woman approach and felt rather sheepish that I'd blocked the entry and the best place to sit down and wait for the bus. I was about twenty minutes into what turned out to be an interesting hour of hanging out there scraping and repainting the outlines to the figures on the mural. A few people asked me if I'd designed it. No, I didn't, and I'm not sure who did, but I suspect it had something to do with the health center across the street. Or, maybe there was a day care center there at some point.

After she sat down, I asked if I could take her picture. I told her my friend had designed the shelter and wanted some pictures of people using it. She agreed to sit for the picture even before I offered to bring her a copy of the print.

While I was talking to her and taking her picture an older gentleman started asking me what I was doing taking pictures. He was shouting out to me from the street corner, "Hey what are you doing? I'm from Bedrock. Hey Hippie Lady, why are you taking pictures? I don't like it." The young woman thought he was being rude. He then walked up to me and asked again and wasn't satisfied that I was just taking a picture of this young woman to give to her.  He walked back to the corner and shouted again, "Hey Hippie Lady! I'm from Bedrock." After the third time. I put down my brush, walked over to him and the two other men he was standing with and looked him in the face. "Hi, I'm Sarah Averill, I'm a photographer and a physician. I'm here painting this mural and taking pictures of people who are using the shelter. I'm not working with the police or with the city. I'm here on my own working with friends on this project. I'm happy to take your picture if you would like." He shook my hand. I then turned and introduced myself to the two other men sitting on the wall by the street corner, just outside the boundaries of the bus shelter. They put their cigarettes aside and shook my hand too. I then went back to painting the wall. There were a few more comments from them and Bedrock. I asked what was Bedrock, and eventually learned he was a marine in Vietnam. There seemed to be something he wanted to tell me about where he was from, but I just couldn't understand through the innuendo. We didn't have enough of the same reference points. 

Then someone related to the woman stopped and started asking questions about the painting.
This man said what I was doing was good. He said he wouldn't have any time to do something like paint a public mural. When I explained that I didn't know how far I'd get, but that I believed in starting.  Just pick up a brush and begin, I said. I have an extra one if you want to help. He thought about that for a little while and said he had a book in his car that said things like that. Maybe, he said, I could learn something from you.   I asked how he was related to the woman, and now I forget, but he was her uncle or something. I asked what he thought of the bus shelter. He said, he had a car and didn't know what to think really.

Maybe you can give her a ride, I said. So he asked her where she was going, she got in and they both left me there with my black enamel paint, still just beginning to cover the lines that had turned more gray than black int he weather. 
I thought maybe I could learn something from just being there and taking the challenges to what I was doing.

That Yellow Stuff

I went back to visit this Burmese family on a hot day and several of the kids had this yellow paste on their heads and faces. When I asked what it was for they told me it was for keeping cool in the heat. It's some sort of yellow mud that they put on their bodies. I didn't notice it except on the kids where it seemed pretty well dried out. Then after I asked about it, they they gestured for me to wait and they went and got the baby of the family. I took this picture for them to go along with the ones of the older boys.

Midland and Kennedy

I stopped and talked to a family on Fage St. again today and was told a think or two about social structure and what holds the south side together. It's family, he said. The roots are deep here, and once you start digging, you may have to keep going all the way to China.
He told me that these were people that grew up together and the families that were together, even when they moved around the city they stayed in touch.  More than once, he said, this place is about people that grew up together and stayed here.

So maybe that's the secret, staying put. The man I was talking to said, he'd moved around a lot himself but here he was.

I'm still trying to figure out why some people watch t.v. and others sit outside and just take life as it is.  

After leaving Fage St. I went further down Midland and talked to another man about why people in this part of town seem to be outside more. He said,  "This is my house, I own this place. I feel comfortable here."
"You keeping an eye on things?, I asked."

He denied that he was watching the neighborhood, "No, I'm not watching anything.  This is my place," with a little more emphasis this time.   What he seemed to mean, was this was his patch of earth and he was damned if he wasn't going to use it on a nice day like this, and since he owned it, it wasn't like he was hanging out somewhere just to have a place to hang out. This is HIS place. And, it was a nice day to be out in it, even if you were someone like me and it wasn't my place. 

Pictures of Pictures

I went back and talked to the owner of tthe Lodi Laundry about the idea I have for a Free Family and Friends Photo Day and she was still interested in hosting me at her place. She suggested that  we do it on a weekday just to make it more manageable; it tends to be more crowded on the weekend. I'll have to see how my schedule works out. I can see having fun taking pictures with the dryers going in the background. When I was there in her office I noticed that she had posted the picture I took of her on the inside door of her office along with notes, business cards, and the rest of the stuff that keeps the world going around when you are a business owner. 

Under the Freeway

State land under 690 means the local police have no jurisdiction. Some homeless people live there, some for as many as eight years. Here are some pictures I took this week. It's a noisy place with the cars constantly rumbling overhead. I'm not sure I'd ever get used to it. There's order here: furniture gets rearranged, pots cleaned, rugs swept, unruly visitors thrown out. I've been invited back to take more pictures. When I drive by at night I see the fire under there and I think it's a sign of life, a habitation, and want to spend some time by that light. One man wanted a picture with me. I'm always shocked at this, but there I am with him. 

New Photos

I' working hard on a short film about my photography project. I've been showing it and getting premission from those whose pictures I've included. So far the reception has been positive. More than once, I've made people cry, which must mean I'm connecting to them. I also visited the homeless under the 690 bridge, a Somali Family and others. Here are some of my recent favorites from the north side: