Chris says "I am not a journalist, I don’t verify, just listen. Its very easy ito simply run with your crowd, to not explore the amazing diversity and perspectives that are offered. Its also very easy to ignore others. By not looking, by not talking to them, we can often fall into constructing our own narrative that affirms our limited world view. What I am hoping to do, by allowing my subjects to share their dreams and burdens with the viewer and by photographing them with respect, is to show that everyone, regardless of their station in life, is as valid as anyone else.".
He talks to the addicts about their dreams.
Chris Bishop was drinking in front of a liquor store when we met. A resident in the local homeless shelter he told me the following.
At the age of thirteen, Chris killed his father, stabbing him with a knife after a childhood of abuse. He spent the next eighteen years in correctional facilities. ‘When he was drunk and mad he would hold me out the apartment window and threaten to drop me to the street, eight floors below. He beat me and my mother all the time. I have been drinking ever since. To forget.’
When I asked how he wanted to be described, his eyes teared up and he said “I am human, like everyone else.”
http://blog.chasejarvis.com/blog/2012/03/dont-quit-your-day-job-no-problem/11/
I call him Luis, but I am not sure. Luis is unable to do more than mutter a few words, often breaking down in tears. He refuses to go to the local shelter or Methadone clinic, sleeping instead in various spots, spending his waking hours bumming cigarettes and panhandling in front of bodegas.
I worry that my pictures put a happy face on addiction. Photos cannot capture the pain, suffering, and destruction wrought by heroin, crack or in this case whiskey. Sometimes it requires smoking a cigarette with a sobbing incoherent drunk to truly remind you what loneliness and addiction can do.
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