ANYTHING HELPS

One morning while visiting Seattle I woke up and couldn’t go back to bed. With an 8am meeting to attend I decided to go for a stroll down 1st, just East of the ferry entrances. I didn’t catch her name nor did I make the effort to record our conversation. She exited a bus about a half block from where I was. A short conversation is all I had time for and after bumming a cigarette from me I asked her for a quick photo.

I started this site purely out of the fact that I desire people to be able to, in 3 years, scroll through hundreds of stories and photographs as an attempt to familiarize them with faces that we so often intentionally avoid.

She was happy, I shook her hand. I hope she’s still well.

One morning while visiting Seattle I woke up and couldn’t go back to bed. With an 8am meeting to attend I decided to go for a stroll down 1st, just East of the ferry entrances. I didn’t catch her name nor did I make the effort to record our conversation. She exited a bus about a half block from where I was. A short conversation is all I had time for and after bumming a cigarette from me I asked her for a quick photo.

I started this site purely out of the fact that I desire people to be able to, in 3 years, scroll through hundreds of stories and photographs as an attempt to familiarize them with faces that we so often intentionally avoid.

She was happy, I shook her hand. I hope she’s still well.

Hammer Smith

Hammer Smith photo 29500006_zpsfd4aab94.jpgHammer Smith. Aside from a handful of mid-west hippies there’s never been much of a homeless scene in Coeur d’Alene, ID. Moving back from Seattle I’ve realized how much I thrive in cities. Culture, never being too bored and people in general seem to be what makes me tick. I had been seeing Hammer around town for about a week before I met up with him. Always smiling and talkative, I made it a priority to find Him and snap a photo or two. Since the interview a few weeks ago I haven’t seen him around. I assume he moved on from the downtown scene. Can’t blame him. Coeur d’Alene has always been bleach for colorful human beings. Stay up Hammer, God bless you homie.

Big Mike

photo 06300022_zps8c8152ee.jpgBig Mike. After being held up by the Fremont Bridge on my way to catch a ferry to Bainbridge Island, I decided to kill some time and grab a coffee. There on 1st & Marion Ave, Mike was out on the corner half asleep, trying to hustle some spare change from passing pedestrians. I told him I only had a $20 but would return with some $1’s. The dude was down and out, no doubt. It sucks that the mentally handicapped, physically disabled, and all the in between have become a sort of a cultural deficiency in big city settings. I don’t doubt that 99.9% of them have done something to get themselves there, it just bums me out that I can’t hardly do anything about it in helping them. I guess i’d rather buy them a 40 than a McDonalds Big Mac. Personal preference. Stay gold, Big Mike.

NYC Trumpet

photo 06310022_zps983c49e3.jpg

New York City subway performances. I won’t pretend like I’m knowledgeable or that I’m aware of the variety in which they come. But what I do know, I do love. Here a friend and I were heading back to her apartment and I immediately decided that echoing trumpet is one of my favorite sounds. Mr. No Name, looking like a bad ass, sounding like heaven.

Douglas Banks

Douglas BanksDouglas Banks. More than to write a description on how Douglas and I met I want to note and highlight the interaction between Douglas and Steve that starts about 1/4 into the audio. Steve walked off a bus about 15 feet from where Douglas and I had been standing and immediately engaged into conversation. It may take a few listens but some of the things that are said are pretty profound between the two of them. As a note to Steve, who is unlikely to ever listen to this recording, I was moved by his willingness to give Douglas a plane ticket to Houston, TX and his genuine interest. On this day I was able to witness and capture something rare and beautiful.

'Hanging' Chad

'Hanging' Chad'Hanging' Chad. I was on a mission to catch a few last minute Christmas gifts for my sisters and saw Chad playing music from a distance. No intention of doing much more than being a by standard I watched him and 2 friends switch spots between songs, rooting each other on and rotating through smoke breaks. Sort of a collective 3 man show. They were camped about 20ft from the famous fish throwing area there in Pikes Place Market and as you may be able to tell, Chad is blind. I don’t know what it was about Him but instead of my normal impulsion to engage in conversation I just stood and watched. I barely got his name before he asked me what song i’d like to hear and continued his performance.

Eric Berenz

Eric BerenzEric Berenz. Like many of the regulars that attend Community Dinners, I’ve had the privilege to build somewhat of a relationship with Eric. No more than a ‘hey how are you’ can turn into a long extensive conversation about whatever’s on his mind. I guess something i’ve really been learning is to listen. As sappy as it sounds, if I could just stop and listen, what privilege I find in the stories of others and what joy they have in communicating with someone who wants to listen. A double edged sword.

Steve Strukoff

PhotobucketSteve Strukoff. Originally from Nebraska, I met Steve at Community Dinners in downtown Fremont and immediately took a liking to him. He’s the guy who’s one of the first to show up and the last to leave. Any conversation i’ve had with him is pure entertainment and I would honestly believe nearly anything the man said.
Here I caught Steve out front smoking his signature TOP tobacco and overheard him and a friend talking about his recently picked up Specialized mtn bike. These are the conversations I live for.

my love for homelss has become an obsession that has become an ambition that seems to be driving me toward something.

wish I had his name, wish he was awake to chat.

Capital Hill, Seattle, WA

my love for homelss has become an obsession that has become an ambition that seems to be driving me toward something.

wish I had his name, wish he was awake to chat.

Capital Hill, Seattle, WA

John Hurst.

PhotobucketJohn Hurst. Assume spelling on both the first and last names I came across John on the corner of Denny Way & Summit on Capital Hill. My intentions weren’t at all to take a portrait of the man and ask him who he was, but I guess some form of journalist instinct kicked in and 45 seconds later I met the man who’s uncle supposedly flew a plane into the World Trade Center.