How did you decide to photograph in Newark?

It took about two years. I think we’re all… we don’t notice the same things or respond to the same things… I wanted to find a place to photograph like I had on East Sixth Street. There I had the Children’s Aid Society. I would use that as my home base and use that to go out to the street. I was looking for that in Newark when I realized… this is a terrible place. I drove around and I photographed a church. It didn’t click, though. It didn’t feel good. It just didn’t feel right, the pictures just came out… “blah.”

But I kept responding and seeing that building, 322, because it’s on the way home to 78. I would go from Irvine Turner Boulevard to 78 and pass this one building, 322. I started photographing on the corner there, because it scared me. The person from the Coalition Six, the group I was photographing for. I told the director how I felt about this building… every time we went by I would be totally electrified, I would be totally different. I could feel the pull. I could feel the whole thing. It scared me. There were people all around. They place was burned-out. So she said, “Let’s go drive there.” So we went to the corner. There was another building on the corner… it wasn’t frightening at all actually. She went up to the people… she was black, and introduced us. “What can we do to help you?” That’s what she said. And they said, “We would like that traffic light fixed. There are so many accidents here.” [The light was at the corner of Madison Avenue and Irvine Turner Boulevard.] Here people are living in this devastated condition and they’re concerned about a traffic light, that other people are getting hurt. The next day, the light was fixed. I came back a couple of days later, by myself… I was God. They didn’t say that, but that was how I was treated.

… I was so moved by the respect they gave me. I was allowed into another world. And that’s what most of my work has been about… I’ve been allowed into other worlds.

That was my start. But I wasn’t really happy with the pictures there. I kept looking at 322. Little by little, I photographed going to 322. The traffic light residents said: “You really don’t want to go there. It’s probably the worst place in Newark… it’s filled with drugs and prostitution.” One day I went up to them and saw the children playing. I asked them if I could photograph the children. I always start with that. They thought I was either from DYFS [The Division of Youth and Family Services] or a social worker. Then I would bring back always a photograph… and photograph more. Then I became involved with the families in the building. I was always scared to death. It was a really dangerous place. It wasn’t any fooling around. The connection I had with that house… 322… I photographed that building for fifteen years.

They had a second fire and people had to leave. The three major families whom I was involved with there… So, I followed them and still kept involved… I still am. One of them, I still am… I just saw her a few days ago. I photographed her children growing up. She’s over on North 13th Street now. And her son was killed, actually shot to death a year and a half ago. They asked me to photograph the funeral. I don’t want to photograph a funeral and people who are dead. I was so close to Khalif. I had never gone to a burial until last year, but I kept saying “I’ve got to do it… it’s my work.” This is part of it. I keep pushing past that part where I don’t want to do something. You’ve got to take a risk. I was amazed by this funeral. The photograph I have here is huge. It was the second son who was shot to death, this woman, the mother. It was horrendous. I was exhausted. I said “I’m going home now.”

I said, “I was so tired…” But the son-in-law said you have to come to the RIP Site… I said, “I’m tired… I’ve got enough.” But when someone says something three times, I listen. He said, “Follow me.” He had this Jeep of some sort. We’re twisting all through these streets and all these places… you’re out of your mind; he pulled up in East Orange on Park Avenue. He double-parked, and I pulled up behind him. I don’t like the whole idea of being stuck out in the street like that. I think he got out of his Jeep and there were hundreds of people on the street all over. And he went, “Let her do what she wants…” he yelled out. There’s something with me… something takes over in me. I know it’s a moment that’s important and I go… I go with it, whatever it is. I started walking down the sidewalk. Everybody moved to make room for me. But I’m seeing this as the photograph. I’m seeing hundreds of people as the photograph. I didn’t even get to the site yet.

You know what I do… I really have a deep respect for everybody… how they think; how they are. I picked up my camera as a signal that I wanted to take a picture, and most people turned their back on me. That was a signal that they didn’t want to be photographed, so I put my camera down. I didn’t take the picture because it’s very disrespectful. I kept walking and these three men said, “Come on, come on,” and then the site was there and they posed… usually I don’t like posing. I only have a couple of pictures in all these years. I always tell them to be natural. Act like I’m not here. But there they were and there’s the picture.

It was there. It’s huge. Then I walked back again and I was so moved by the respect they gave me. I was allowed into another world. And that’s what most of my work has been about… I’ve been allowed into other worlds. It doesn’t happen. You don’t experience that and I’m very lucky. It’s been absolutely incredible and I healed myself. Because I was extremely shy and you can hide behind the camera. It gave me… It was a tool I could hide behind. It brought me out of myself. I was able to relate to people and people related to me. The whole experience became healing in itself.