I was in South Los Angeles on April 5th, 2023, early in the morning, on my way to the studio. I was shooting landscapes and things, as it’s a very photogenic area, when I ran into Jerome Davis. His face was striking, I told him so, he smiled, and asked him if I could take his portrait. We agreed on a small fee for his time, and we spent a few minutes together talking and shooting, and he told me his story a bit. He’s 54, has been homeless since he’s 19. He’s half Cherokee, half black American. He has no children. And like so many forgotten, he doesn’t spend time wondering why he was handed his struggles. He just keeps moving. I think he was surprised to be engaged in a conversation, he seemed lonely. I asked him if people photograph him often, he says yes, but they don’t ask. They click and take off. Homelessness and invisibility in Los Angeles are striking, it’s a strange city in so many ways, and it says a lot about us, as a society, and as individuals, that we see extraordinary outer beauty perhaps, but don’t pause to see a man, or a woman, in there, that would like to be acknowledged for their intrinsic value. After our talk, I saw him walk, far, on Crenshaw. I have no idea where he was going. I hope I run into him again.
