Artist Statement:
The great strength of Boston is its diversity. Since its inception, this wonderful city has welcomed (more or less warmly), or at least tolerated, people from all walks of life, ethnicity, socioeconomic standing and sexual orientation. For the most part, minorities co-exist. And the great thing is that a person can live in an ethnic, inner city enclave (what we used to call ghettos) but once one boards public transportation or gets on Facebook, he/she can leave behind his/her address.
That is, except for the homeless and indigent. They can’t shed their circumstances by using public transportation or Facebook. Too often, the homeless are forced to self-identify because they must carry their belongings with them. And their access to the Internet is probably at best limited to the public library during certain hours, subject to staff supervision and the disdain of other patrons.
The homeless just exist. They are the forgotten, invisible minority to whom the city turns a blind eye. Many homeless disappear during the day to avoid prejudice, scorn or hassle, emerging at night to claim a potentially safe, out-of-the-elements sleeping berth in an alley, doorway or dumpster, on a heating grate or park bench or under a tree. For a few nighttime hours, our homeless brethren steal sleep sometimes in the toniest of zip codes that would be if they had addresses.
The theme of my collection is the blatant juxtaposition of luxury and abject poverty. My works depict this inexcusable contradiction of circumstances, as seen through the eyes of an artist who has known homelessness: a Back Bay church porch where people start claiming a space at about 5:00-6:00 PM; a fire escape around the corner from Newbury Street; a bench in the Prudential Center mall that becomes a bed after hours; a Commercial Wharf condominium with million dollar views of the Boston Harbor that casts its shadow on the poverty across the street.
Who are we as a society, when access to a good, safe, secure night of sleep has become a privilege?