The homeless. The mendicants. People who spend their days on the street because they have nothing else to do. In the winter, they huddle in overcoats and blankets to keep warm. With the brutal heat of summer, they sleep during the day. Some ask for help. Others just sit there. Some look past us. Some betray no emotion at all. Some avoid eye contact. We stare at them with pity. We look at them with contempt. They unsettle us. We turn away, pretending they don't exist. They don't belong here. But we are the transients. For a brief moment, we are on the street. They, they are of the street.
Once I wanted to be Ansel Adams, a reach, especially for someone who lives and photographs in New Jersey. But even when I went out into real wilderness, I never felt at one with these places. My introduction to street photography was "Henri Cartier-Bresson: The Early Work". I was hooked immediately. My first attempts at street photography were in New York. From the beginning, I knew this was where I belonged. Even in neighborhoods that were new to me, I felt that these were my streets. I have photographed in the US, in Europe, Africa and the Middle East. They are still my streets.
