Photos & Stories IT WASN'T ME YOUNG MAN WITH TEDDY BEAR SAN FRANCISCO OCTOBER 2007 he's been working the intersection like a pin ball, or a yo-yo on a string. corner to corner; side to side. propelled or drawn, he rushes here and there, then waits. i catch him in an alley with a friend and his bear. the friend is hunched behind a car and hovers away as i approach. the bear stays close. name's wayland; from san mateo. been more than a year since i met him first. he tells me of the places he's been and the places he likes. says he likes colorado best because people get along good there. he went there with his parents when he was about fifteen. they took his picture with a baseball cap and his baseball glove raised to make a catch. he shows me how. says he was really close to his parents and he misses them. they're dead now. his mom died in '97 from stomach cancer and his dad might as well have. his dad started shooting meth, got aids from a transvestite downtown and died soon after. the transvestite was a friend of wayland's and he's pretty sure she's how his dad got infected. he's not totally sure though. but he's sure it wasn't him. "i had myself checked. it wasn't me. i'm just glad i didn't give it to him." (10/13/07) SADIE DRIFTER GIRL SAN FRANCISCO SEPTEMBER 2007 she's not as drunk as she pretends. and she's smarter than she lets on. the older boy next to her is just as drunk as he looks. they met earlier over a can of beer. her name is sadie; from "everywhere." well, from chico really. but she doesn't live there anymore. mom kicked her out. says mom's a "tweaker and a drunk." been getting around mostly by hitching. some trains too; but not so much. talks about places she's been to recently; and places she's going. the boy has a big smile on his face. says "ain't she beautiful!" like he's still figuring his luck. "yes," i respond. (9/14/07) BEING THERE CHILD IN POVERTY SAN FRANCISCO JUNE 2007 it's an in between day. stalled on the way somewhere. a strange intermission. tomorrow will better judge. a lady pushes a stroller by as i hardly notice. except for a glimpse of golden locks. they're at the intersection when i arrive. i glance down and the child in the stroller looks up. i smile. he says "hello" and smiles back. the woman doesn't notice; she continues along. and i go another way. but they really don't seem off to an evening stroll; as they enter the park. and i peer back as they approach a group of figures barely visible under the darkness of a tree. the woman pulls something from her jacket which she passes to the others. i return from another direction and i'm stared down as i approach. there is the lady and a man; neither stranger to the elements. she's black; he's white. there are two older children and one baby in a second stroller. and there is the child i met before. he is 3. the children are opening colorful bags of candy that the lady brought back. it seems to be dinner. the child hands me his bag. the two youngest are the couple's children together. the family lives in a shelter and sometimes beneath the stars. they'll be in the shelter tonight. it opens at 9pm. the child is named "chance." "like the movie?" i ask. "peter sellers?" the father smiles. "no. she's 32 and i'm 42 and this here is my last chance at a life." (6/26/07)

October 2007 Newsletter

Greetings all!  Happy Halloween :))

So more exciting news: SFMOMA Artists Gallery representation, Los Angeles show in February, Senior Access charity show reception Tuesday, ... read on...

In San Francisco, I'll be placing work at the SFMOMA Artists Gallery.  They'll be representing me in the Bay Area.  They're really terrific and have a significant base of clients.  So if you need art for rental or purchase at home or at work, definitely check them out!

In Los Angeles, I'll be doing a large show in late February at the Feldman-Horn Gallery (360 view below) at Harvard-Westlake.

In Mill Valley, there will be an "Art & Wine Reception" today (Tuesday, October 30, 5:30-8pm) for a 'roving' charity show I'm doing with Marin's Senior Access titled Alive! Art and Alzheimer's: Celebrating our lives through art.  The show will exhibit art from their Alzheimer participants along with 18 portraits of participants that I photographed.  The reception is at the Robert Greene Gallery (154 Throckmorton Ave., Mill Valley).

Tom Stone was born on a train outside of Mexico City traveling to Puerto Angel, Oaxaca. His parents separated soon after his birth and he grew up with his mother in various communal and nomadic settings in Hawaii and California.

A graduate of Harvard University with a degree in computer science, he worked in Silicon Valley for a number of years in investment banking and in the technology industry.

He is a documentary photographer known for his portraits of people living along the edges of society. His photography shares perspective with the work of Dorothea Lange, Richard Avedon, Diane Arbus and Sebastião Salgado.

To my thinking, the original human trauma is our separation. We are too close not to need each other; and too far to trust each other. We rely on dubious senses and clever devices to interact; but we are alone in our thoughts. Lonely, insecure and uncertain; we pair, we group, we associate. We try to belong and we seek to exclude. We form bonds by geography, religion, economy and otherwise. But it is all precarious. We come together and we drive apart.

And we climb our ladder. We step away from those who don’t belong and help those who do. We are connected rung by rung – though less and less – as we push and pull. But some do not climb; and below, the earth is littered with them. They fit too poorly. They stand apart. They stand without.

And what of them; these ones who don’t belong or who are excluded; who don’t fit or don’t try? Is there nothing they value? Is there nothing of them we value? I count it as a measure of our ignorance, the depth of poverty in the world. It’s a glaring marker to how far we have not come. Yet it has also driven our advance; on less fortunate backs and against less fortunate fate.

But is there really no connection there? Does such fate – whether choice or circumstance – speak nothing of us? Tell me we do more than advance in place; with so many left behind. Or promise me we can do better. Say we can reflect ourselves; us and them... That we can see the ways we overlap and distinguish the ways we grow apart. And pledge that we can learn; to fit all of our misshapes; to reward value beyond charity and beyond the marketplace; to be better to each other; to be better ourselves. And promise me it could be a better world. Or tell me we are at our best.