What's it all about?

The person who is helping me edit this book seems genuinely impressed with my interviewing skills. How can people tell me something disturbing (which she thinks must have disturbed me) and yet I can go on with the interview -- steering it where I wanted to travel?

I wanted to write that comment down, because it reaffirms that I'm on the right track, that I am competent at what I am setting out to do -- something I am not always sure of.

The problem lies in the fact that usually this road is embarked upon by an expert traveler. If the road were an art exhibit, I know I would be able to travel it well because I've worked very hard over a long period of time to become a competent artist.

But not so with writing. I am a child -- wandering on a path I know I shouldn't be on -- but I'm on it anyway. Fearful, thirsting for affirmation that I'm okay, but stumbling on, guided by a stubborn determination that it will work out -- it has to.

*

Now I need to write an introduction and I am somewhat frustrated because I feel like I should know what is at the end of this path, or at least have a clear vision of what the book is about. But I don't know -- it's still hazy. And in a way, I'm afraid to see what it clearly is. I'm afraid if I see what it is, and if I say what it is -- I will stunt it. I will stop it from becoming all the other things it could have been.

Can I write an introduction for a book without truly knowing or understanding what is at its center? Or can I just set up the circumstances or the background and let people discover for themselves what is at the heart of this book?

Ahh, Pity!

I am sitting in the library at Duke. Surrounding me is the photography show of Howard Schatz called "Homeless -- Americans in Hard Times."

The photos are stunning! Huge photos! Bright whites and the blackest of blacks -- wrinkles, gray hair, textures of clothing -- all there to be scrutinized. People with stories in their eyes -- vulnerable, but willing to pose, to be used, this one time.

People who are not asking for answers. But people who, nevertheless, are allowing the viewer, or the photographer, to violate their privacy, for this one moment.

After viewing the pictures, I read Howard Schatz's commentary on the project. I am moved by his writing. I feel guilty and perhaps stupid for my own inability to have the pity this guy has for homeless people, and also for my inability to describe their circumstances as well as he does.

Then I started to compare our artwork. Mine seemed so small, so unimportant compared to his. There is no "knock out" quality to my drawings. Nothing that grabs the viewer and yells this is homelessness! In my work, only by careful examination on the part of the viewer, can the individual's humanity be revealed. Even then, they look like people -- nobody to pity.

After going through this mental exercise of comparing myself and my project to Howard Schatz and his project, I read further into the comments visitors had made at the back of the book.

One comment caught my eye, Vernon Pratt's -- an art instructor at Duke. He basically called the show a 5th Avenue ad job -- $/pity rolled up in one show. That shocked me.

Why was he dumping on such a powerful show!?! A show with such high quality prints?; and with such vehemence at that!?

So, I thought about it . . . I can understand some of it. The prints were good, but any good photographer could come up with that. The photos were interesting -- but I could have captured just as much with a camera, and there are probably a lot of people out there that could have as well. I guess what Vernon was saying is; he (Schatz), used his skills to produce a certain effect (which all artists do) -- and Pratt didn't like that effect. Too commercial, too pitiful -- not enough sensitivity to the finer gradations of the human experience.

*

When I got home, I found myself thinking more and more about this pity idea . . . I even wrote a letter to Vernon Pratt. Actually, it is kind of funny to think about -- here I am, a person who had encountered and worked with quite a number of homeless people over the past few years; feeling ashamed because I didn't pity them. (I empathize with them, but pity -- no.) Why had I completely bought into this "pity" theme.

And the pity theme is every where -- everybody wants you/me to pity the homeless. This photography show is not the first time I had been faced with it nor will it be the last time. But today is special because I have the time to explore it more deeply and to perhaps understand it. I need to figure out why I had assumed Mr. Schatz was right and I was wrong -- was it because his photos were bigger and more wonderful than my drawings -- thus he must know more? Or was it because he was just restating what everyone else has been saying all along; homelessness is pitiful.

I am not really sure of the connection, but I think I am bothered by pity because of how it affects pride and dignity -- a quality most homeless people have, but not a whole lot of. So I decided to look up the word "pity" in the dictionary -- hoping the dictionary would show me the connection. (Really, I was looking for evidence against "pity" -- I needed support for my hunch.)

I found the word "pity" defined as: "sympathy or sorrow for others' suffering; regrettable fact." Well, perhaps it is an appropriate word to be used when thinking of homelessness.

But still, when I think back to my own encounters with the people in this project, I know they never wanted pity from me. To me, pity seems to be the predator of pride and dignity -- it feeds on those fragile qualities that these people are struggling so hard to hold on to.

Remember when I mentioned how the homeless had allowed the photographer to invade their privacy? It was an invasion, because the photographer used the images to pity them. Maybe his heart was in a good place, maybe everyone that tries to elicit pity for their causes (and thus brings in revenues) has their heart in the right spot, but I wonder, do they understand what they are doing to the people they are trying to help? Do they understand how terribly important and fragile pride and dignity are? I guess that is why I'd like to leave "pity" out of this book. Empathy, yes. But pity -- no.

Attack!

I have come under attack. I was suppose to be writing a book about homeless people, and here I come up with a book about me and homeless people! What gives?

Their stories and your drawings are so wonderful! But I am afraid to say, your writing is a distraction. Why don't you leave it out? . . . at least that is my opinion.

So what does give? Has the power of writing gone to my brain? Do I now want to immortalize myself as well as homeless people? Why did I get so entwined in the project? Why did it become so important to me "to be woven in" [reference to another essay] as well?

At this point I don't know how to explain it. I just know that I very much want to do it this way -- that it is a need that comes from deep within.

Maybe I can say it's because of "issues" -- all the issues I have stumbled upon in this project. Some I knew were coming, but most of them I did not. Issues that were so complex -- I just didn't know what to do with them -- except to sit down and write about them and try to work them out on paper. It was like the more I learned, the more I had to wonder and the more I ended up writing.

Writing so much that the main focus of the book shifted from the lives of homeless people, to my life; the life of a middle aged, middle class, white woman, (who also happens to be an artist), and who is trying to make sense of not only homeless people, but of the black culture as well. A group of people I have lived next to for years, but not with. A group of people I have wanted to know, but never really had an opportunity to; until this project.

So the questions I ask the shelter residents, myself and you, the reader -- are not really simple ones -- they have many facets. They are meant to cut into the surfaces of our beliefs as well as reflect the many surfaces of the lives they touch. The questions probe for more than just the issues of homelessness -- they probe for the relationship we all have with one another.