|Photo by Chris Arnade|
It was twelve degrees outside and maybe a few degrees warmer inside. Michael took off his gloves to work the crack and clean the pipe. He stopped to warm them over the candles. Frost from his breath mixed with smoke from the crack.
The stories of addicts in the Hunts Point neighborhood, the poorest in all of New York City. I post people's stories as they tell them to me.
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.
Its easy to ignore others. By not looking, by not talking to them, we can fall into constructing our own narrative that affirms our limited world view.
I can be contacted at Chris@arnade.com