Boston University’s chapter of the online college news site The Tab posted what they called “A Must Read” piece on their Facebook page Monday morning. The piece, entitled “Fearless BU photographer shows harsh reality of homeless Boston,” was indeed a must-read, but certainly not in the way The Tab intended.
The piece, written by BU student Jacquelyn Schwartz, profiles the “fearless” Evan Jones, a photojournalism student in the College of Communication who, though he “hated photography” as a kid, Schwartz writes, now lives with “a passion for documenting everything.”
This photographic documentation includes a specific focus on the homeless people who settle at the railroad tracks at the base of the Boston University Bridge.
“At first I was afraid,” Jones told Schwartz in the article. “But then I was like f— it, I want to get the picture, what’s the worst that can happen?”
The piece goes on. “Evan approached the homeless with good intentions and a steady hand, as if he was nearing a wild animal,” Schwartz writes.
And if the opening paragraphs hadn’t already put a murky taste in our mouths as we read this piece in between our classes today, that line is certainly where the muddy water began pouring in.
While we can’t infer what Jones’ motives are when he shoots the homeless, we can certainly say that this attempt at photojournalism, to put it lightly, misses the mark. Quite honestly, many aspiring journalists may believe that photographing homeless people is the easiest way to capture something controversial. But the fact that these people are homeless isn’t a story. Calling someone a “high mess,” as Jones is quoted as doing, doesn’t bring light to the situation. We aren’t here to simply acknowledge other people’s plight and misfortune. These people are just existing. They are living. And rather than working to make a difference in these people’s lives, Jones’ and Schwartz’s words in this article perpetuate an image of the homeless that furthers no conversation worth having. No one should be called “fearless” for talking to people as people. Addiction doesn’t define a person. Jail doesn’t define a person. And the fact that homeless is “wild” to both the author and subject of this piece shows just how sheltered and privileged they, as well as those of us who admire them, truly are.
Note a particular example, in which Schwartz describes Jones’ encounter with his “favorite” subject: “His bad knees, severe arthritis, and heavy stature make him stationery (sic), which allows Evan to be mobile and active when photographing him. Evan first found Jimmy [Kerr] sitting alone on two milk crates with a cane. ‘This dude can’t hurt me, he has a f—ing cane,’ thought Evan as he approached the stranger.”
As journalists, we arguably have a responsibility to tell the stories of those who cannot tell their own. We should want to photograph or focus on those less fortunate than us to bring awareness to their situations. Photographing this man because he can’t potentially fight back is the direct opposite of the moral duty we have. The purpose of photojournalism is not to use people as objects, but rather use our privilege to make a difference in their lives and those of others like them.
All of this certainly isn’t to say that Jones is an untalented photographer — his photos are stunning and he has worked just as hard as others have to be a part of the journalism program here at BU.
But in reality, there is a huge difference between portraying difficult subject matter in order to get people to recognize certain hard truths about the world, and taking advantage of those truths in order to make yourself look edgy or, again, “fearless.” Doing the latter is dehumanizing, exploitative and unethical. These people aren’t our personal portfolio builders, and we have a responsibility to represent them in a truthful way. Our duty to the story is to change something. Our duty is to advocate.
This isn’t to say that our job as journalists is to provide a service in exchange for our story or our photos. Rather, our job is to take these negative stereotypes and stigmas and report truthfully about them, which could potentially bring change and hope to many lives. This example, however, calls into question Jones’ ability to do either: “Evan now only visits the tracks on cloudy days to stick with the consistency of the project,” Schwartz writes. “‘Every time I’ve gotten a really good picture it’s been overcast.’” By staging shots in gloominess to suit some idea of the homeless, the story Jones is trying to tell immediately becomes less truthful, and less helpful because of it.
We can see a better effort in an Aug. 13, 2014, profile from The New York Times, which focused on a Starbucks worker whose schedule was orchestrated by software that used sales patterns to create virtual work schedules. By profiling Janette, author Jodi Kantor and photographer Sam Hodgson gave way to social change, prompting Starbucks to do away with the software.
And photojournalist Brandon Stanton, who started a whole new journalism phenomenon with Humans of New York, is also good example of this. His “candid” portraits of people on the streets have become integral in bringing otherwise unrecognized stories of individuals to the forefront of our Facebook news feeds. While his work does not necessarily bring tangible change to people’s lives, he at least brings awareness to issues that are out of our comfort zones or out of our personal reach.
Perhaps Jones, Schwartz and others like them can learn from this, and focus on making stories like these educational opportunities for others. Instead of perpetuating stereotypes about others, as the “high mess” comment does, let us investigate and bring knowledge to those who wouldn’t know any better were it not for us. In essence, whether a writer or a photojournalist, it is our duty to responsibly report on and bring awareness to issues that may ordinarily be overlooked or cast aside, and not to use stories or images about these people for our own personal gain.
Editor’s Note: Evan Jones was a staff photographer for The Daily Free Press during the 2014-2015 academic year.