Mis primeros trabajos consistían en encontrar elementos formales en edificios abandonados y obras en construcción. Creo que estaba desarrollando mi vocabulario visual; estaba entrenando mi ojo en objetos inanimados mientras buscaba metáforas para mis propias transiciones personales. Tras mis viajes a Centroamérica, era mucho más consciente de los problemas sociales a los que se enfrentaba la gente en San Francisco. Empecé a fotografiar el Moscone Center en construcción, pero al final me di a la tarea de crear un documento que mostrara en toda su dimensión a las personas cuyas vidas se verían más alteradas con la llegada de los convencionistas y su nuevo dinero.

Antes de empezar el programa MFA en el San Francisco Art Institute, me planteé seriamente obtener un título en urbanismo. Cuando decidí embarcarme en el máster, decidí centrar mi trabajo artístico en los problemas de la vida urbana. Muchos de mis contemporáneos hacían obras con una base política. Trabajé en estrecha colaboración con Connie Hatch, que ahora enseña en Cal Arts. Juntas recibimos una beca de investigación del Fondo Nacional de las Artes para poner en marcha este proyecto. A principios de la década de 1980, la premisa de la fotografía documental estaba siendo cuestionada. Se cuestionaba la idea del observador externo. Definitivamente, no quería hacer fotografías de vagabundos en barrios marginales, como podría haber hecho fácilmente en la calle 6ª. Más bien quería llamar la atención sobre lo que era un barrio vital, aunque pasado por alto, cuya voz no se oía. La idea de hacer fotografías que pudieran funcionar fuera del ámbito artístico era muy importante para mí, así que mostré el trabajo en bares, en reuniones comunitarias y en cualquier lugar donde la gente quisiera verlo. Siempre incluía una gran cantidad de texto y no buscaba galerías ni otros lugares comerciales para mi trabajo.

(ENG)

My early work consisted of finding formal elements in abandoned buildings and construction sites. I think I was developing my visual vocabulary and training my eye on inanimate objects while looking for metaphors for my own personal transitions. After my trips to Central America, I was much more aware of the social issues facing people in San Francisco. I began photographing the Moscone Center under construction but eventually set out to create a document that would show the full extent of the people whose lives would be most altered by the arrival of the conventioneers and their new money.
Before starting the MFA programme at the San Francisco Art Institute, I seriously considered pursuing a degree in urban planning. When I embarked on the MFA, I decided to focus my artwork on the problems of urban life. Many of my contemporaries were making work that was politically based. I worked closely with Connie Hatch, who now teaches at Cal Arts, and together, we received a research grant from the National Endowment for the Arts to get this project off the ground. In the early 1980s, the premise of documentary photography was being challenged. The idea of the outside observer was being questioned. I definitely didn't want to take photographs of homeless people in slums, as I could easily have done on 6th Street. Instead, I wanted to draw attention to what was a vital, if overlooked, neighbourhood whose voice was not being heard. The idea of making photographs that could function outside the artistic realm was very important to me, so I showed the work in bars, at community meetings, and anywhere people wanted to see it. I always included a lot of text, and I didn't look for galleries or other commercial venues for my work.
I might add that South of Market was the only place in San Francisco where I felt I belonged. As an artist, I had an interest in the neighbourhood. That's where the photo labs and galleries were, that's where my friends lived. I'm not rich, I had no family at the time, so I didn't feel at home in Chinatown, the Mission, Pacific Heights or Noe Valley. I was not objective about it, I never approached the telling of this story as a journalist. It was my own story.
By exhibiting South of Market now, 35 years after the photographs were taken, at the de Young, a major San Francisco museum, I finally have a wonderful platform for the story. I want to create a dialogue about how cities change with this exhibition and this book. Who wins, and at what cost to the character of the city? Is there a way to achieve economic development that includes those whose work doesn't generate much income? Can we maintain the economic and cultural diversity that attracted us to San Francisco? Can art have a seat at the table in these kinds of conversations?