Visages de sans-abris

J’ai entrepris de réaliser une serie de portraits sur le long terme de survivants de la Shoah (Written in Memory : Portraits of the Holocaust) ; d’anciens combattants américains et vietnamiens (Inconvenient Stories & From All Sides) : et plus récemment, Pigeon Hill : Then and Now, qui met en relation des portraits que j’ai fait de gens habitant dans une cité de Bloomington entre 1987 et 1991 avec des portraits des mêmes personnes réalisés entre 2011 et 2016. Pour chacune des trois séries, j’interviewe les individus et je joins aux portraits leurs propres mots. Cette stratégie permet au public de relier directement un visage et son histoire.

Le problème des sans-abris est mondial. J’habite dans le centre de Chicago et j’y suis confronté tous les jours en vacant à mes occupations quotidiennes. Je vois tant de visages différents qui racontent chacun de façon unique et irréfutable comment ils se sont retrouvés dans la rue à demander de l’argent à des inconnus. Notre société se dirige dans une direction qui voit le filet de sécurité social se déliter, ce qui rendra la vie des plus vulnérables de nos concitoyens d’autant plus difficile.

Je sais que je pourrais juste me promener dans les rues et prendre des photos, mais étant donné la nature sensible du sujet, j’ai décidé qu’il valait mieux travailler avec des associations qui s’occupent des sans-abris au quotidien. C’est dans ce but que je travaille avec le Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, ce qui m’a aidé à identifier les individus à photographier et interviewer. J’ai appris du CCH et d’autres associations qu’il y a beaucoup d’autres façons d’être sans-abri que le simple fait de vivre dans la rue et qu’il y a bien des causes à ce problème en dehors de la maladie mentale ou d’une addiction à l’alcool ou à la drogue.

Les sans-abris ont des amis ou de la famille (on estime que plus ou moins 18000 enfants des écoles publiques de Chicago sont sans abri : ils vivent dans des centres d’hébergement à court ou long terme ; dans des hôpitaux ou des hôtels dédiés. Ils y a d’anciens combattants à la rue ; des individus ou des familles expulsés lorsque leur lieu de résidence s’est trouvé être saisi : des gens qui ont dû faire face à des dépenses de santé importantes que leur assurance ne couvrait pas, engloutissant les économies d’une vie. La perte d’emploi, le divorce, le décès d’un conjoint, la violence domestique, le manque de logements abordables, tout ceci conduit à la rue. Il y a des travailleurs pauvres qui vivent dans des tentes ou dans leur véhicule parce que les logements qui sont près de leur lieu de travail sont inabordables. Il est essentiel pour moi de couvrir une gamme d’individus aussi large que possible afin de raconter une histoire plus précise.

Dans cette perspective, j’ai commencé à étendre mon travail pour y inclure les sans-abris de Los Angeles en tant que représentants des problèmes spécifiques des sans-abris de la côte ouest. C’est dans ce but que je travaille avec Safe Place for Youth et Venice Community Housing, ce qui m’aide à identifier les individus. J’ai aussi commencé à explorer la question des sans-abris ruraux, ce qui présente encore un problème différent de ce que l’on voit dans les grands centres urbains.

Mon espoir est que mes images, faites de photos et de textes, puissent contribuer au débat public sur les causes et les solutions possibles à apporter à certains problèmes épineux qui entourent les sans-abris et que de par mon travail, j’atteigne une meilleure compréhension de cette vaste communauté plutôt vulnérable.

Traduction : Christine Lenormand

Andon Kostov at the Boulevard homeless shelter for medical recovery

I escaped from Bulgaria on Friday 13, 1985 (?).I was a political refugee. When I escaped, the communists were still in power. People disappeared. I was afraid I would disappear too, so I run. A cousin of mine moved from Bulgaria to Chicago. They found me and I came to Chicago.

I got a job in construction. I had a problem with my lungs and started slowing down. I have COPD, arthritis and back pain. I didn’t have the means to see a doctor. I came home one day after work and found all my possessions in the alley—I had fallen behind on my rent. I became homeless.

April Harris

Our neighbors were selling drugs. I reported them but instead of the housing authority kicking them out, they told the neighbors I reported them and I started getting death threats. I wasn’t safe ; they attacked my husband, harassed our kids. We went to a shelter and decided to relocate to Chicago.

Charlene Daniels, 2/17/75

I became homeless about 5 years ago. I’m a hillbilly. I lived in a small town in Tennessee where everyone was kin to me. My mom never did like me. I wanted to come to Venice because I knew my family wouldn’t come here. You have to watch it—the gangs and stuff. I’m here with my husband. I’ve had my dog, Sadie Mae, for a year. Got her for my birthday.

I live in a tent behind Gold’s Gym. This is the only place that can fit all my art stuff and clothes. I like decorating and drawing. What the cops don’t take I manage to keep. I’m waiting for my Section 8 voucher. I want to get off the streets like everyone else. The shelters split couples up. No pets.

We stay at the Lincoln Inn for almost a week after I get my Social Security check. The rest goes to food. We try to keep an eye on everyone. Help them out with food. Everyone comes to me. We give them snacks, money if they need it. When me and Laz have no money I’ll panhandle. I tell people exactly what I’ll use it for—I won’t lie.

It’s not fun to have people look at you like they do. One time I was just walking when a man called me “garbage.” I was really depressed.

It’s dangerous on the streets It’ll drain everything inside of you.

C., born 7/13/1983(?), NY

I had a job soldering pinball machines. I was a vocalist in New York. I sang in church choir and passed my first audition. I didn’t study music ; you don’t always have to. I liked school and books and studying. I miss the music and nightlife. I became homeless months ago. I live outside. It’s harsh but peaceful. Our current political climate makes homelessness harder and harder for people to understand and sympathize with. It’s easier to castigate and find disdain. Living outside in nature is harsh but nature’s forces will not judge you.

David Ernest Busch, b. 1955, Homeless Activist in Venice Beach

After working as an auto and bus mechanic for 20 years, 10 as a union mechanic, I returned to writing. I worked in the family business until it failed in 1992. I was 37. I started living in my car. 80% of my meals the past 20 years have come from dumpsters in part because I refuse to take money from the government because conservatives are always accusing poor people of taking handouts. So I only eat food that society throws away. I also organize 4 different “Food Not Bombs” collectives. They are a global anarchist movement. When I was a working class bus mechanic and a typical American consumer, I would go to a market and buy foods advertisers wanted us to eat and my health was not good. I wasn’t eating nutritious food and my budget didn’t allow me to buy more nutritious organic foods wealthy people could afford. But as a homeless person, I discovered eating from dumpsters of wealthy people’s markets like Whole Foods was healthier than the food marketed to the average American.

Janine Perez, born 9/21/1971, Harwood Heights, Illinois

I first became homeless when my mother died ; then my dog died. My stepdad is an alcoholic ; he’s evil. I’m a Certified Nurse’s Assistant. I told him to bring my mom to the nursing home where I worked, but he wouldn’t. She had diabetes, always helped me with money. When she died I couldn’t go back to her house, which was my grandparent’s home. I left my boyfriend—he cheated on me. I got a new job as Certified Nurse’s Assistant at Harmony Healthcare at Pulaski and Foster. The residents are elderly.

I met my fiancé last January. He knew people here in the tent city. We got here in the spring. We were living in my truck near my job in Niles. During the polar vortex we had to run the engine to keep warm until it ran out of gas. We had a lot of blankets ; had to cuddle up together. It was brutal. I’m not going to stay out here next winter. My plan is to rent an apartment and get out of tent city. I want to come home to a nice warm place.

Maxica Williams Stage 3 Cancer Survivor

Three years ago I had a double mastectomy and 16 nodes removed from my left arm. I had 6 months of chemotherapy. I was in the process of buying a house but had to use the money for my chemo. During that time I cared for my kids, took them to school each day.

I’ll graduate in May 2019 with a degree in Business Administration and then go on for my Masters. I want to work with homeless and cancer survivors to help them deal with their problems and to pay back what people did for me.

Melodi Serna, born 10/10/1977, Chicago

I was a Hospital Corpsman 3rd Class in the U.S. Navy. I was a 5th generation veteran. My great-great-grandfather served in “Big Red One” in WWI. He was from Belleport, ND, Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa Tribe. He wasn’t considered a citizen. Citizenship wasn’t granted to Native Americans until 1924. My great aunt was a WAC in WWII. My great uncle served in Vietnam. I served at the tail end of Desert Storm/Desert Shield. I served in a conflict zone in Haiti in 1998. I was sexually assaulted by another corpsman at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego after being roofied. I was taken back to my room. The rape kit is pretty invasive. Everyone on the base started pointing at me—“She’s a liar ! She deserved it !” I convinced them to transfer me to another base. There was an altercation at a bar and I was wrongfully charged. I was convicted and received an “other than honorable” discharge. The Innocence Project intervened and I got out in 1½ years. I got pregnant with my first son right after I got home. I stayed in San Diego 6 years after that. My husband was an abusive drunk ; tried to kill me. I moved back to Chicago in 2006. I got into another abusive relationship. Since 2008 we’ve had small bouts of homelessness. I wound up staying with my abusive boyfriend. When we were homeless we stayed doubled up with friends and family. When I couldn’t stay with friends I’d call my ex and ask for help with rent, food, rides. I know I shouldn’t have called him—he beat me, stalked me ; tried to kill me. I had no choice. My kids have special needs and need therapy. I finally got into the VA system last year. We got a place through Volunteers of America. I go to job fairs looking for work in management. I ran a salon. I’m also a licensed phlebotomist. I do volunteer work at my kids’ schools. I volunteer for Homeless Veterans in America Foundation. I can work from home. I don’t need a dollar, I need a job.

Robert Henderson at a Chicago Housing Authority Senior Residence

After prison I dealt crack cocaine for 5 years. I got hooked—thought I could break away from it, but I couldn’t. It was just a matter of time before I lost everything. I’d ride the train all night, or stay at O’Hare Airport or in parks, depending on the weather. I didn’t like the shelters.

I was a bodyguard for a street chief. He thought I was cheating him on the dope money and shot me in the head but I survived. That’s when I started to turn my life around. You ain’t gonna beat them streets—sooner or later they’re gonna catch up with you.

I still had an addiction issue at first but nine years ago I checked myself into a treatment center at Salvation Army. I’ve been clean for 9 years.

Thomas Gordon, Mayor of Uptown Tent City

First time I was homeless I was 14 years old. I was kicked out of the house. There were 7 of us kids—I was the oldest. My dad died when I was 6, my mom when I was 12.

I’d heard about Uptown Tent City and I wanted to totally get involved ; got a propane stove and tank and I started cooking for the community. Set up a storage tent to keep things for survival purposes. There were about 25 of us under Lawrence viaduct and about 20 under Wilson.

I got elected mayor of Tent City. I’m homeless but I’m happy. I’m doing what I enjoy doing : helping people.

Vincent DiGaetano, born 2/6/1969, Brooklyn, NY

I left New York when 9/11 happened. I wanted to see America. Went from NY to Vegas, started painting on the walls there with Magic Markers. A friend suggested I come to Venice Beach. I’ve drawn my whole life. Got into tattoos. Started to paint here in Venice. An oil painter on the boardwalk taught me painting techniques. I learned different techniques from different artists who shared brush strokes. I’ve slept everywhere from alleys to parking garages to sidewalks. I’ve stayed on friends’ sofas. The community takes care of me. They look at me as a resident who lives outside. Homeless has become a dirty word. It should be a hate crime to use that word. I don’t like the stereotype ; we’re not all the same. I’m not a shitty homeless person. I’m an artist. I’ve earned that right. I have my art supplies and my bass guitar and that’s it. I don’t have piles of stuff. I’m not a hoarder. My work is fun. I like a certain depth of texture. I get canvasses donated and I just paint over them. I paint a lot of clowns. They scare the shit out of kids. Scared me when I was a kid. I sold a big painting the other day and a leather trench coat that I painted a mural of clowns on. If I had my own place I’d fill every square inch with murals because that’s what my life is : one big painting.