Workshop: New York University Street Photography

Just taught my first workshop at New York University and it was a complete riot! All of the students initially were nervous to approach people on the busy streets of New York City, but wham! They got the hang of it quickly.  We also added in a bit of storytelling as each person they met gave them information about their work, what they liked to do, etc.

The students’ professor then met with us at the end of the day to look at all of the images and hear the stories about the people they met. We also discussed how this workshop fit into the theme of her syllabus.

The class was a positive experience for all, and it looks like I will be asked to come back and do it again next year!

Thank you for your wonderful workshop Friday.  What a generous gift you gave to all of us. – Professor Jessamyn Hatcher

Biennial Show

One of my images wase included in the Worldwide Photography Biennial Exhibition benefiting Save the Children and the Foundation for the Comprehensive Treatment of Children Neurological Diseases (FLENI) in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  For more details, follow this link.

Here are some pics!

Mercy Corps Action Center

Just saw the permanent display at Mercy Corps International headquarters, and they used many of my portraits from around the world.

Here is a link to the Action Center. It is very interactive! They have tools that people use in developing countries, videos, many things to touch, see, experience. It is a great place for kids and adults, as children can teach us many things about our preconceptions regarding developing countries and what they have to offer the world.

Take a young person’s hand and bring them there with you!


Cheryl Strayed Author Photo: Wildly Running Rampant!

Holy Moly! Cheryl Strayed’s book, Wild, is taking the world by storm!

Her book is everywhere, she is being interviewed on all kinds of programs in numerous cities (at once!) and soon she will be riding the Hollywood train, as her book movie rights were purchased by Reese Witherspoon, who will produce and star in the upcoming movie.

I can’t keep up with her, and where my author photo is landing.  Here are a few places.

The New York Times:


Interview Magazine:


The New Yorker


Random House:


The Boston Phoenix:





Hello Al Pacino

He sits there in a heap, crying like a baby, begging for something. At first glance, I assume he wants money. Or a fix.

All I hear is a mumbled “Al Pacino”.


“Al Pacino is coming here. I’m waiting for him. I’m gonna wait four days for him. Right here.”

My gut tells me to walk by, eyes ahead, avoiding the possibility of incidental contact. But that’s not why I am in the Castro District of San Francisco today. I am here to take photographs. I stop to look into his pleading and exceptionally beautiful green eyes.

“When is he coming?” I ask.

He doesn’t hear my question. Instead, we start to list all the movies we could think of that Al Pacino is in. And then, as though he finally registers my initial question, he nods upward toward a poster on the Castro Theater wall announcing that Al Pacino will be there in a few days for a movie opening.

My inner Midwestern upbringing good-girl mentality kicks in, and my brain goes straight to: “Don’t photograph this poor soul. It would be exploitative.” But my gut is starting to have the upper hand in my life these days, and I proceed to hang up my piece of black velvet with the help of my body-builder friend Mark who had agreed to meet me there. I can’t get it to stick on the side of the building because of the soppy rain spots, but Mark helps to hold it in place. When I bring my camera out, Mr. Castro perks up, as much as his wobbling head will allow.

“Want me to photograph you?” He chokes out the words, a little shy-boy look across his face peering out from behind his dangling wet hair.

Sure! (Are you kidding me?)

I give him my camera making sure to secure the strap to my hand. He’s an active, erratic and currently high addict. His eyes get glassy and he tries to take the camera from me, saying he needs to get a better handle on it as he frames me. I don’t let go.

He can’t find the shutter release, even though I show him about ten times where it is. His fingers keep slipping off the camera. He starts to fall. Twice. My hand grips the strap even harder, waiting for him to begin his descent, ready to whip the camera over in my direction before it could crash along with him into the sidewalk.

What in the hell have I done?

When he finally snaps the photo, I try to pry the camera from him, but he insists that he needs to hold it to see the photo. I say ok, no problem, and try to show him how to view it on the back of the camera. He reluctantly lets go, but not without first looking stoically into my eyes and holding his gaze on me, as though to say, I know your game. You would never trust me.

I start to pack up, giving up the notion to photograph him, as badly as I would like to do it. He is right: I don’t trust him. He does scare the hell out of me. I have no business being there, in his world, as I, dressed in new Diesel jeans with a healthy check on my own vices, am tipping on the edge of my security, and he, not in the same stage as I in his life, could live as free from structure as I could only imagine.

As I put my camera in my bag, I heard Mark murmur under his breath let’s get the hell out of here.

“Don’t you want to photograph me?”

The sound of his strained voice jolts me.

He asks a second time. I get my camera back out, this time searching his face and locking my eyes into his.

As I look at these images now at home, he haunts me. We all start out as little precious beings, seeking love and attention and a safe place to rest our heads and our hearts. I study his worn yet lovely face. Cleaned up and sitting at a desk in some corporate setting or spinning records in a downtown hip venue, he would be a strikingly handsome man. Instead, one decision leads to another, and here he is.

I wonder about his mother. Does she care where he is? Does she know he sleeps on the streets and hustles for heroin and gets beaten regularly? I conjure a vision of a mother sitting in a living room somewhere, gazing out from a window, sickened to her core that her little boy went from middle school beer tasting to high school vodka to pot to acid to cocaine to riding this wild horse.

He knew I wanted to photograph him. And he was quite happy with his reflection as he looked at it, as well as he could understand it in that state.

As I write this, I am sitting in my cozy little house sipping a glass of Pinot Gris and wearing a warm cinched corduroy jacket with turquoise leather inlay cowboy boots. I think about him often.

I wonder if Al Pacino returned his hello.




April: Portland Photo Month

There are several events related to photography taking place during Portland Photo Month in April. Check the Portland Photo Month website for the latest listings.

A few highlights:

THEN. NOW. HERE.  BAM! Images of Portland, curated by Raymond Meeks, will be projected onto buildings around Portland during the month of April. Check the link for times and locations.

Photo Picnic!  Bring your nibbles, your favorite sip and a special blankie. We will be showing Mary Ellen Mark’s newly released book, Prom, and screening the Prom documentary film, co-produced with her husband and filmmaker, Martin Bell.

Thursday, April 26  8-10pm   Location is at my studio.

Door: $5-10 sliding scale payable to Photolucida.  Floor space is highly limited, so send us an email to reserve your spot.

GET IN THE VAN! I will be teaching street photography workshops in various locations and with different co-instructors I admire. First up: the uber-talented Leah Nash! Check the classes link on my website to view current workshop listings.

(Photo by Mary Ellen Mark, from her new series “Prom”)

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