the current body...

The letters pressed onto the old broken glass bottle spell out Toronto. The glass is celadon green, translucent, and the sharp edges are now dull. We found it on one of our walks and it seemed emblematic. A broken bottle creates its own horizon - drained of its liquid perhaps for years it lies with no purpose? Until on a walk we find it and realize that somehow it resonates with the current body of our city.

We were thirsty when we start out, me and Ron, and both of us had forgotten our water. But inside I thought ok, it's a short walk and we will be going through one of the city parks. There's surely going to be a working fountain.

It was one of those ususal Toronto days with a combination of heat and humidity. Before we went out we spent time writing story boards for our short pieces and began to find photographs. We are constantly challenged by time and so many other things. If you were looking at us from the outside you might wonder what exactly was happening! There are conversations that are unfinished, today a delicious watermelon at centre stage (finished), and people wandering in and out of the room, through our conversations.

One of the ongoing conversations is how people ended up where they are. How things in their lives gradually eroded until, looking around, it seemed like there was no way out. We have created a society where we don't teach people how to deal with the daily stress in their lives, where people don't ask each other how they are in meaningful ways, and where people are ashamed if they can't cope on their own, independently. The reality is that we need each other in order to get through our days. We need a community, to help each other, to be able to depend on one another, and to show compassion. And as I write this in memory, I watch people walk by the homeless on the streets, while I hunker down on the curb and look up and wonder... when they are thirsty, who fills their glass?

This week we stayed in - ! Unusual! We planned the final upcoming weeks and looked at photographs and chatted about opportunities to show our work. It was the first week of rain too.

I am already feeling sad about our ending. I have not been able to find funding - these projects are heartbreaking to run. We enter a community with so many needs - and one of the needs is for sustainable projects - projects like this one, that can run for as long as they need. A comment from one of the men: "The guys in the shelters have nothing to do - just gather dust." These kinds of programs provide opportunities for skill development, socialization, time management, organization, and committment to a community that is curious about our social conditions.

I am writing a paper about the last project and thinking about where we will be showing this one... We have some options and I am having to be dogged in my pursuit of them.

We are still trying to enter some of the shelters in order to take photographs. This is an ongoing conversation and I have been redirected to yet another person to begin another conversation with! I can understand a certain amount of reluctance, but at this point we are only talking. Luckily, I have much patience, and many other things as well to contend with. I would not want to end our project without our entry into these places as so many of our stories in the project talk about the shelters.

The photo above shows an old drainage pipe - and yes, it has been used for sleeping. It provides a dry spot, shelter for the few things one has when living rough... and on a rainy day the sound is not wholly unpleasant. Like rain on a tin roof...

rhubarb and lilacs

The article Joe Fiorito wrote appeared in the Toronto Star (Wednesday, May 23, 2007). Everyone loved it! It just feels so good to have public recognition of the work. And Joe captured us – the ordinary stories that are told in conversation as we walk and sit around the table. The stories that are absent at other tables and walks.
On our walkabout we visited a place that used to be called the brown door. A notorious spot where you could place money and a mysterious package of drugs would appear. But that has been long gone now. The people have moved on. Dealers don’t stay too long in one place. What can I say – we know that drugs can bring misery to lives as well as relief. They make sleep possible, small escapes into necessary illusions.
I spent time this week writing letters to several of the shelters to see if we can visit. We have talked about going inside and taking pictures. Documenting the conditions, reflecting on the memories, trying to piece together the stories that walk the corridors, that are elicited when you touch the door handles – the stories that are part of every door handle and hinge. I also visited Maxwell Meighen and the Gateway to see if I could find Jamie or Daniel hanging around. No luck there. I was just wanting to catch up. See if Daniel got a job.
Today I took a walk on my own and met two women who sleep in one of the parks in the City. We shared the sidewalk for half an hour and then I moved on as they were working. I paid them for their time with me, albeit it never feels like enough. They would like a politician to stay with them overnight, to sit in their blankets and watch while they pan, while they squeegee.
As I continued on my way I met another woman. She asked me for some change and I had none so I said no, and she turned away. It was the way she turned that touched me, the slowness of her body. It was as if the asking exhausted her, and the rejection was expected, and I could feel her somehow, her soul weariness, so I dug a bit deeper and came up with a piece of paper. I called back to her. Her face lit up and her eyes became red and watery as she said in a broken voice, “It’s so hard right now….” I felt like what I gave her was not enough though she leaned in and kissed my shoulder.
I also went to Scarborough to talk about the work with a group out there. They were a gorgeous group of people and I was paid in rhubarb and lilacs… what a beautiful economy. What a lucky woman am I this week!

asleep in toronto - with Joe Fiorito!

We had the honour of having Joe Fiorito, a columnist from the Star newspaper, come along with us on our walkabout. That's him carrying the khaki coloured bag - the man without the hat!

It was overcast and a bit humid today, and I think we were all a bit nervous about having someone come along to observe us - we're just getting our own relationships established. But Joe has a special way of just walking along beside us and becoming part of the conversation. So we soon relaxed. He also asked great questions.

Today our focus was on looking at some of the shelters that people have slept in. Because we have not yet been invited inside to photograph them, we are photographing the outside. We went to Maxwell Meighen, The Gateway, the School House and Seaton House.

Everyone returned with their cameras completed so I will take them in for developing which that next week we will start looking and shooting - everything begins to intensify.

As we sat around the table at the end and talked about what was most meaningful JeanGuy said softly: "I didn't want to get close in order to take the pictures; I wanted to stay as far away as possible from the shelters." The way he said it convinced me that his memories and experiences were not ones that were easy to bear; if anything they haunted him. Crowded conditions, the smells of too many men using a single urinal, a thin mattress, a lack of privacy.

It is so important for me in being part of these kinds of projects to remember that each person has a focus and when I look at the photographs and the perspective the message is visceral - when we think about a necessary distance for someone who has lived in them. How close do you want to get to the building to photograph it? How far away feels safe enough?