One Day You Will Remember Me: Street Photography & the Truth on the Street

One Day You Will Remember Me (Melbourne Australia June 2014)

Allow me to introduce you to Elias. I met him on the street in Melbourne a few days ago. I'd spotted him out the corner of my eye, and as is my habit when encountering people who appear to be homeless, I smiled, waved and walked on by. But, before I got more than a meter or two past him, Elias called me back.

"Take my photo," he said as I approached him.

I replied that I don't usually photograph people who are homeless.

"I'm not homeless." was his answer.

I asked him why was he laying on the street in such weather (it was rainy and very cold).

"I have a place but I come out every day, trying to make people happy,"  he told me. "One day you will remember me and one day you will remember God through me." Then he told me again to photograph him, arranging his Star of David pendant just so, as he spoke.  So I made this photograph, showed it to him and he approved.

"That's a good one," he said and smiled his thanks.

Afterwards I asked him his name and he told me it is Elias. He also told me that he is a Jewish prince. When I said that I didn't know there were Jewish princes, he simply replied, with a smile on this face:

"Well, I am one."

He refused to take any money from me and just repeated that one day I would remember him and remember God through him. 

Is Elias really a Jewish prince? He told me he is, so he is. Will I remember him "one day"? Well he told me I will, so I will.  As a street and social documentary photographer, it is not my place to judge the things people tell me, or for that matter, the 'reality' they show me through the viewfinder of my camera. Life on the street, life itself, is what it is.  Sometimes the truth is plain to see, sometimes it's hidden beneath the surface or behind masks of various kinds.

 But, at the end of the day, on the street there is truth and really the best way to see and experience that truth is to remember that, while we may weigh up the facts of a situation, a story or whatever, there will always be truth hidden there whether the facts add up or not.

PICK OF THE WEEK: Remembering

Remembering

(Armadale Western Australia February 2014

I'm always drawn to war memorials. I guess it has to do with my father being a career soldier in the Australian army. Among other things, he did two tours in that horrific war on Vietnam as part of the Australian commitment to its "friend" the United States. That service led eventually to his death and to the destruction of our family. That is not a story for this blog, I know. What I want to reflect on here is why I'm drawn to the places and sites that memorialize war.

I was involved for a few years in an organisation with other sons and daughters of Vietnam veterans. But, in the end, I didn't like it at all. What bothered me most was that there was too much focus on and too much glorification of military exploits, of battles fought and won. And there was too little emphasis placed on the concept that war itself is the problem. War is the evil that caused so much of our pain.

And, of course, memorials like this one in my photograph, are venues for gatherings such as Anzac Day and Remembrance Day services, battle commemorations and the like. So, what is it that pulls me in every time I encounter such a place in my travels? As I said, it's personal.

I think at some point I made a decision as to what these "war memorials" represent to me. I have come to believe they are places which honour the memory of the victims of war. I ignore the battle names carved on them, and choose instead to think upon the names of the dead and their lives, as well as the families they have left behind. For me they have become anti-war memorials.

There is nothing naive about me. No,not at all. I do not for a second think that war is going to ever be "a thing of the past". Sadly it does not seem to be in the nature of the human animal to find other solutions, to not covet the land or resources of others. No, war is a permanent fixture. But I don't have to like it. I do not have to support it. I do not have to celebrate victories or (and this is even more perverse) defeats in which some seem to find so much to glorify.

So, what of this photograph? I had thought to call it "Some Remember while Some Forget", based on the man who looks like he is remembering or trying to remember something, and the person walking away as if not even noticing the memorial. However, I decided that the simple title would be better: Remembering.

And we should always remember. Not, as I say because that's the way to put an end to war. It isn't quite that simple. But remembering, not forgetting, is important because it can help us realize that in the end it is all of us who are responsible for war. Yes, I know, I said that war seems to be in our nature. So, you might ask, how can any of us as individuals be responsible? Perhaps it's a good question. All I can say in response (and in a rare display of naivety) is that maybe the question posed by the title of a movie from 1970 might be an even better one to ponder:

Suppose they threw a war and nobody came

Do Not Forsake Me: A Portrait For Our Times

All the casualties that I've left behind.
And I, and I hide them in the corners of my mind
All the memories, nothing I could sing.
I've learned so many things, but the bitterness remains.
I'm sick of drying everybody else's tears, with nobody to dry mine.
Don't, don't forsake me.
Why do you break me every time?
I'm asking you, don't, don't forsake me. Why do you break me? Again and again.
I can't make it alone.
All the judges and all the disarray.
You keep on trying me, but you're only pushing me away.
I don't want you to go, but I can't tell you're here.
You're just another soul that I'm making disappear.
I'm sick of drying everybody else's tears, with nobody to dry mine                                               


Used with thanks to Duffy the Welsh singer and whoever actually wrote these beautiful lyrics

I Just Act Like I Don't Remember and Mary Acts Like She Don't Care

I come from down in the valley where mister when you're young
They bring you up to do like your daddy done
Me and mary we met in high school when she was just seventeen
Wed ride out of that valley down to where the fields were green

Wed go down to the river
And into the river wed dive
Oh down to the river wed ride

Then I got mary pregnant and man that was all she wrote
And for my nineteen birthday I got a union card and a wedding coat
We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest
No wedding day smiles no walk down the aisle
No flowers no wedding dress
That night we went down to the river
And into the river wed dive
On down to the river we did ride

I got a job working construction for the johnstown company
But lately there aint been much work on account of the economy
Now all them things that seemed so important
Well mister they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I don't remember, mary acts like she don't care
But I remember us riding in my brothers car
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks I'd lie awake
And pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take
Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it don't come true
Or is it something worse that sends me
Down to the river though I know the river is dry
Down to the river, my baby and I
Oh down to the river we ride


Thanks Bruce, for the music and the lyrics that are truly poetry