luc francis sharrow

a candy shaped pistol.

The concept behind these photos was still mostly shrouded  as I set off onto the streets of Austin.  I had recently implanted myself into the city on a whim from New Orleans and Brooklyn street gossip.  I had little idea of what would be laying around the nooks and crannies of the city.  I knew however, that they would not be empty; there is something I have learned soundly – life exists.  The photos in this set are my attempt at visualizing a bleak perspective: a look into a dreary mist obscuring a set of words on the horizon which has converging messages of hope and fear, loneliness, and redemption through others.  This is a glimpse of what the homeless see.  It is zombie-march. They journey years everyday, led on by a constantly stagnant view of hope through their repetitively changing world, though reliably ending in the same mire again.

I was particularly happy with the partially washed-out, bleak, and stark colors because I feel they add the suitable tone for this conversation.  I’ve seen that this is how the homeless view the world, just how most of society is perpetually ignoring the homeless and dismissing them as hangover of a personally-disconnected mistake that someone else has made.  These seeming irrelevances are what bring the context to the story:  just as pan-handlers may be considered street novelties or decoration by a passing tourist, sky-scrapers are just another tree in the forest to piss on,  from the other side of the mirror; they are equally irrelevant.

I also wanted this to be a walk, something casual and not investigative at its heart.  I wanted it to be devoid of people, because I wanted you to feel the people who set their feet there, sat down for a break, or laid their head – all of them.  Imagine blinking in and out of clear view of your world, in and out of utter happiness and complete dispirit, experiencing complete relaxation concurrently with dire stress, holding hands of people you meet to your heart for a moment before they disappear just as quickly as they came,  and then reemerging into quick snapshots of life for brief moments of intense loneliness – this will be more appropriate.

You read more about Luc’s travels at his blog: No Intention of Arriving


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