How do you place these photos in the context of art in general?

Well, as a concerned photographer. That’s what I went to school for. The concerned photographer is an advocate. It means you’re concerned about humanity. War photography, journalists… caring about people. And I’m a concerned photographer. There are books on it. Eugene Smith was a concerned photographer… those wartime photographs… Robert Capa… we’re concerned about what’s going on with humanity. We’re not concerned about flowers or fashion. It’s like Jacob Riis, Lewis Hine, Dorothea Lange was concerned because she was getting paid by the government. Ansel Adams did a whole series on the Japanese internment camps. Lewis Hine with child labor… he spent his whole life trying to get child labor laws.

Getting access is one of the major things about being a concerned photographer. That’s the hardest hurdle of all. I want to show other people what it’s like, how you’re living here, because I don’t think it’s right. It was the right thing. On East 6th Street and a lot of them would leave… they said “We can smell attitude.” I said to myself: Thank God I’ve got the right attitude! [laughs]

In terms of access, do you think being a woman helped that?

Well, it could have. A photograph I’m kind of well-known for… I was pulling around a corner and there were three teenagers sitting in front of an abandoned church.

I couldn’t believe it… they were exactly like that photograph… I almost fainted. I went running up the street… “I’m Helen Stummer… I’m a photographer…” I said “Don’t move! You’re perfect.” Except, Cornelius in the middle had a sandwich down. I said, “Can you put the sandwich down,” and he put the sandwich down. Maybe it’s because something takes over in me, I’m really sure of myself, though I’m really scared. And the more scared I get, the louder I get. I was photographing them and it turned out I won a prize… the best photo in show internationally in all media.

The concerned photographer is an advocate. It means you’re concerned about humanity… I want to show other people what it’s like, how you’re living here…

I went to find them because I wanted to share the money with them. I said: “Why did you let me photograph you?” They said,”Well, here you are, my hair is flying, a little old lady… you don’t seem like a threat… we thought you might be a nun… you were kind of funny.” The whole thing was kind of funny. The only thing they asked me is, “Don’t say we’re doing drugs.” They said, “We’re just chilling out from high school. We just got out of school.”

It’s just one indication… I seem to emit or gain trust. I think that has been my way of being accessible. I see something and know it’s a photograph. I don’t set-up anything. I don’t know how. I know when I see it I know it. But until I see it, I don’t know, just be natural. Then when I see it I can do the photograph. So, it’s very uncomfortable for people and for me a lot of times. It’s persistence, I guess. I have great love for doing what I did.

I stopped. I just don’t do it anymore. I don’t have the energy. I have osteoporosis and arthritis. My husband has dementia… it drains you. It really does. I used to worry about when I was going to stop, and fear it. But it happens naturally. Now I’m doing something just as important is organizing it and archiving it: the New Jersey Historical Society is taking all my Newark work and the New York Historical Society is taking all my New York work. So to prepare that is an incredible project.

Given this definition of the concerned photograph, do you think photos are political statements?

Always… you can’t separate the two. I’m between an artist and an advocate and that’s a concerned photographer.

In what ways can we understand what had happened to Newark from looking at art that you can’t get from history books or social commentary?

I wanted to separate the person from the environment… the environment is bleak, the environment is poison, but the person is fine; they’re beautiful, they’re elegant, they’re powerful… I believe my work shows that. It’s the separation…. If you live in a bad neighborhood it does not mean you’re a bad person… Come on, it’s stupid, but we do put them together. I really love the light coming out of the dark… I like that a lot.

Bruce Davidson had a goal, he was set-up. I’m not saying some of them aren’t beautiful photographs, but he exploited people. And he got a lot of recognition and he worked at getting recognition… he knew how to do it. He played it. I had no capacity for that. I just went along and it worked out okay. I guess we all do what we do.

Do you think you would do anything differently about these photographs now, knowing what you know thirty years later?

I thought about that once… I’d probably take better photographs now [laughs].