Raised by a single mother after my father died, I know well the social barriers that one faces when having the tough luck of being born among the less empowered. As a result, I’ve always been eager to elevate the voices of those who live below the radar of social standards.
This past summer, I started a personal project called “Careful: Soul Inside,” showcasing the lives of real people who had plans and dreams, but for a misfortune of destiny ended up on the streets, subsistence living or in shelters. “Careful: Soul inside” is a project that envisions telling the stories of individuals and raising society’s awareness of the issue of homelessness.
The idea is simple: I talk to them, hear their stories and register everything on camera. My intention is to bring more awareness about the fine line that separates people experiencing homelessness from the rest of society, and hopefully to bring down this huge social wall that often makes some people practically invisible.
“Glenn” (pseudonym)
Downtown Portland, Pioneer Square
I met “Glenn” while waiting for the MAX. He was the first person I saw sitting there, hands in his pockets and with a faraway look. I was fascinated by his facial features and asked to take his picture. Glenn was born in Southern Oregon and has never been anywhere outside of the state. He never got a college degree but says proudly that he has never been a vagabond either. “I worked, yes. I used to be a bartender, labor worker, lumberjack. I’ve done many things, but when one gets old and the economy crashes at the same time ...” He stops for a minute and looks away, then continues: “Not all of us are bums, you know. I don’t even drink.”
Jimmy (James) Marques Jr.
Park Avenue, in front of the Portland Art Museum
Yesterday I met Jimmy (James) Marques Jr., a man with an easy smile, a skillful talker, and always using catchphrases and quotes. Jimmy was born in Missouri but lived most of his life in California because of his father’s military career. His biggest dream was to become a journalist, and he even started college, but eventually dropped out. He worked in customer service for years for many hotels, but was laid off in the economic recession. He made “some mistakes” afterwards, things that prevented him from ever getting a job again, he said, leaving only the streets as an option – and once being a homeless, things only got worse. I asked him about his opinion about this barrier between the housed and the homeless. Without thinking too much, he looked at me and said: “I might not be the case, but sometimes homeless people are angels watching over you and checking your humility before reporting it to God.”
Dale
Portland State University
I didn’t have the chance to talk with Dale for more than 5 minutes, but he was with a friend who he claimed to be his only company and his best friend. Dale was homeless, but since he wasn’t really comfortable with me asking questions I decided to only take pictures.
Doug
Street Roots vendor, downtown Starbucks
I promised myself that I would never leave home without my camera because I used to constantly miss the most interesting scenes. Doug just made me remember why. It was a rainy day and I was just walking around downtown, looking for a place to get a cup of coffee, when Doug literally appeared in front of me, with the biggest smile I’ve seen and said, “Here – why don’t you shoot this,” while making a big silly face and holding an edition of the Street Roots. The perfect guy in front of me, and I didn’t even have to get over my shyness. I had a blast photographing this wonderful man.
Sandra
Street Roots vendor, downtown Portland
Sandra is a Street Roots vendor who I met a couple of months ago. What called my attention to Sandra, always very polite and upbeat, was her sense of style. She is often in my neighborhood and every time I see her, she is wearing a different stylish dress.
Mark, now Phillipe
Downtown Portland, Burnside Street
I was passing through a park in the rain when I spotted Phillipe lying under this tiny space which could barely fit his body. He looked at me and smiled, and greeted me with a warm “Good afternoon.” He was sharp, quick, wise, but there was something else. Let’s just say he was a heavy dreamer.
I approached and asked his name. “It was Mark, now it’s changing for Phillipe. You know, there are bad guys after me. But I am a good guy so I would rather give up my name than my life.”
Fair enough, I thought.
Phillipe is 65 years old, and has been all over, including Vietnam, and is “sort of” a war veteran, he said. We talked for a little while. I normally would have asked him to tell me more of his story but the rain got strong again, and now I am the one who needs to look for shelter.
Pedro Oliveira is a Portland State University student. View more of his award-winning series of portraits.