Eight years after first capturing the raw realities of Skid Row, photographer Suzanne Stein has continued to push the boundaries of street photography, most notably through her extensive documentation of the opioid and xylazine crises in Kensington, Philadelphia. Her work, recently showcased in the exhibition US: Slow Code at the Verena Kerfin Gallery in Berlin, is characterized by its unflinching gaze at societal decay and its deliberate aim to unsettle viewers, prompting them to confront uncomfortable truths often ignored by mainstream narratives.
Stein’s artistic journey began with a focus on the complex interplay of tenderness amidst hardship in Los Angeles’ Skid Row. However, her most substantial and sustained body of work emerged from a three-year immersion in Kensington, a neighborhood grappling with the devastating impact of the opioid epidemic, subsequently compounded by the emergence of the xylazine crisis. This period of intense documentation yielded a profound visual record, not solely of addiction, but of a community under immense pressure, striving for normalcy against a backdrop of profound suffering.
Documenting Kensington: More Than Just Addiction
Stein’s approach to Kensington was deliberately holistic. She sought to portray the neighborhood as a lived-in space, a place populated by families, adorned with memorials to victims of violence and overdose, and marked by the daily rhythms of its residents. "I photographed the entire neighborhood: the families who live there, the streets, the memorials to gunshot victims and overdose victims, the storefronts, the corners, the ordinary moments, and the broader atmosphere of a community under enormous pressure," Stein explained. "The people suffering on the street are part of the story, but they are not the whole story." This nuanced perspective aimed to dismantle the simplistic portrayal of Kensington as merely a symbol of addiction or poverty, instead highlighting its multifaceted identity as a real community enduring extraordinary challenges.
The severity of the xylazine crisis in Kensington has been particularly alarming. Xylazine, an animal tranquilizer increasingly mixed with illicit drugs like fentanyl, has led to severe, slow-healing wounds, amputations, and fatalities, presenting a new and devastating dimension to the ongoing public health emergency. Reports from various health organizations indicate a significant rise in xylazine-related emergency department visits and deaths in recent years, underscoring the urgent and escalating nature of this crisis. Stein’s photographs capture the visible manifestations of this crisis, including the gruesome wounds and physical deterioration experienced by users.
US: Slow Code – An Unsettling Exhibition
The Verena Kerfin Gallery’s decision to exhibit Stein’s Kensington work, under the title US: Slow Code, underscores the provocative nature of her art. The gallery’s introduction to the exhibition stated, "She does not work on images that soothe. She works on images that unsettle." This description accurately reflects Stein’s intention to jolt viewers out of complacency and into critical engagement with the realities she documents.
The gallery’s framing of Kensington as "the form misery takes when it is organized inside a wealthy state: visible enough to serve as a deterrent, invisible enough to remain politically consequence-free" offers a stark analysis of systemic neglect. This perspective suggests that the visible signs of poverty and suffering are allowed to persist, serving as a grim spectacle for the outside world, yet remain strategically ignored by those in power to avoid substantive policy changes or accountability. This arrangement, the gallery implies, allows the broader society to maintain its routines while inhabitants of these communities live and die amidst their struggles.
A Courageous Curatorial Vision
Stein emphasized the deliberate and courageous selection of images made by Verena Kerfin for the exhibition. "Verena made a very specific and courageous selection of images," Stein commented. While Stein provided a shortlist, the gallery’s final edit aligned with Kerfin’s vision, aiming to reveal a "gradual deterioration happening in plain sight – what Stein considers as a form of slow public emergency."
The chosen photographs predominantly depicted individuals in states of incapacitation or physical collapse. This curated selection, according to Stein, served as a broader statement on abandonment within the United States, suggesting that such unflinching portrayals are often considered too difficult, if not impossible, to exhibit or publish within the U.S. context. The exhibition’s focus on these raw, unvarnished images challenges conventional notions of representation and compels a confrontation with the harsh realities faced by vulnerable populations.
Stein, unable to attend the exhibition in person due to logistical constraints, connected with attendees through a video installation. She reported that the audience showed significant interest, spending considerable time with the images and engaging deeply with the work. This response was particularly meaningful to Stein, given the challenging nature of her photography and the demands it places on the viewer’s emotional and intellectual engagement.
The Personal Toll of Witnessing Trauma
Stein’s immersion in Kensington was not without its personal cost. The three years spent documenting the opioid and xylazine crises left a profound mark, leading her to step back from direct documentation of addiction. The constant exposure to physical danger, distressing situations, and overwhelming negativity proved to be a significant emotional and physical burden.
"I met people and witnessed situations that did not reinforce positive feelings about humanity," Stein admitted. "That is difficult to say, but it’s true. The work took a long time to recover from emotionally and physically… When you are surrounded by trauma, decay, violence, addiction, strong odors, disturbing sights, and constant emotional intensity, it seeps into you." This introspection highlights the profound psychological impact of sustained exposure to human suffering and the resilience required to continue such work.
While Stein has shifted her focus away from the direct depiction of addiction, she remains committed to documenting social issues. Her intention is to broaden her thematic scope, moving beyond an exclusive association with addiction, poverty, and homelessness. She expressed a desire for future projects to offer a different perspective, perhaps through specific assignments with clear objectives, rather than repetitive documentation of similar circumstances.
Shifting Focus: The Aftermath and Resilience
Stein’s evolving artistic vision now centers on documenting the aftermath of the Kensington crisis. This includes focusing on parents who have lost children to overdose, families striving to rebuild their lives, and parents whose children have survived but are living with permanent disabilities. This new direction allows her to maintain a connection to the community’s narrative while exploring the long-term consequences and the enduring spirit of resilience.
This shift in focus reflects a growing awareness of the complex narratives surrounding these crises. Stein noted the "deep resistance to seeing what is actually happening on American streets," contrasting it with the "much more sanitized version" often presented by mainstream media. Her work aims to counter this tendency by providing a more authentic and unvarnished representation of these social challenges.
Personal Imprints and the Weight of Experience
The profound impact of Kensington on Stein’s personal life is evident in the mental imprint left by her experiences. The necessity of maintaining a degree of detachment to function in distressing environments led her to develop a form of callousness. "You have to be able to function in situations that are painful, ugly, dangerous, and overwhelming," she reflected. This resilience, however, is rooted in her own history of personal distress, including financial instability, single parenthood of a child on the autism spectrum, and a family history of alcoholism and addiction. These personal experiences, she suggests, have drawn her to confront realities that others might intentionally avoid.
The mental toll of immersion in perilous environments like Kensington has been substantial. Stein acknowledged that the work, despite its intellectual purpose, profoundly affects one’s nervous system and outlook. "I think the work has made me more negative at times, and probably more difficult to be around," she confessed. "I’ve had to be honest with myself about that. Part of that comes from the frustration of seeing these crises continue while the world barely responds."
A significant distinction Stein draws between her Skid Row work and her Kensington experiences lies in the nature of the relationships formed. While Skid Row offered instances of deep connection and shared humanity despite the hardships, Kensington presented a different challenge. "Skid Row was also full of terrible things… But many of the people I photographed there had tremendous spirit, soul, humor, and character. I formed real relationships with some of them, and I am still very attached to them."
In contrast, her experience in Kensington was more isolating. "Kensington was different," she stated. "To be perfectly honest, I don’t feel that I came away from Kensington with many meaningful relationships. The drugs there, and the particular conditions on those streets, seemed to hollow people out in a different way. Seeing that over and over affected me deeply. The level of criminality, exploitation, and desperation on all sides made it very difficult to keep the faith. That has changed my outlook, and I am still trying to move past it – to regain some sense of hope, purpose, and belief in people."
Re-evaluating "Poverty Porn" in Street Photography
The discourse surrounding "poverty porn" in documentary and street photography is often heated, leading to established norms about what is considered acceptable or offensive. Photographing homelessness, for instance, is frequently placed on a list of proscribed subjects within certain street photography circles. Stein, however, dismisses the term "poverty porn" as a reductive label that often stifles meaningful conversation.
She argues that the term, and the way discussions about marginalized communities are framed, can be used to shame photographers who aim to raise awareness about difficult realities. Stein is quick to add that photographers are not above criticism, acknowledging the fine line between exploitation and information, particularly in conflict photography and when documenting individuals in distress. "When you photograph anyone in distress, whether they are in Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Syria, Kensington, or Skid Row, you are walking a very fine line between exploitation and information," she observed.
Stein advocates for applying the same rigor and seriousness to documenting social crises within the United States as is applied to international conflict zones. "We need to apply the same rigorous photographic attention to the streets of the United States that we apply to places like Ukraine or Gaza. These crises are here too, and they deserve to be seen with the same seriousness." This perspective challenges the often-implicit hierarchy of suffering, arguing for a universal standard of empathetic and impactful visual reporting.
An Unsettling Moment of Tenderness: The Story of Mike and Crystal
One photograph that holds particular significance for Stein, featured in the US: Slow Code exhibition, depicts Mike injecting Crystal in the neck with fentanyl and xylazine. This image encapsulates the complex duality of her work, revealing tenderness amidst profound danger and despair.
Stein described her initial shock upon witnessing neck injections, a practice common in Kensington due to the unavailability of usable veins in the arms. This method carries significant risks, including collapse and overdose, and has spawned a grim underground economy where individuals charge for performing injections. "People come in from the suburbs, they don’t know how to inject, or they are afraid of needles, and they find someone on the street to do it for them. So it becomes almost a cottage industry." This phenomenon highlights the multifaceted nature of addiction, where dependence extends beyond the substance itself to include reliance on others for administration.
In the specific instance captured, Crystal was experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms ("dope sick") because she could not find a usable vein and was not proficient at self-injection. Mike’s intervention, though fraught with danger, provided immediate relief, preventing her from enduring deeper withdrawal. This act, Stein notes, was characterized by an "intimacy and trust between them," a contradiction that imbues the photograph with its power.
The photograph’s importance also stems from the trust Stein had cultivated, allowing her access to document such a private and vulnerable moment. "That kind of access does not come from parachuting in. It comes from being present, from spending time, from not treating people like grotesque spectacle."
A subtle yet crucial detail in the image is Crystal’s thumb in her mouth. Initially perceived as a self-soothing gesture, akin to a child’s thumb-sucking, Stein later understood its functional role: it helped make the neck vein more visible for the injector. This detail transforms the image, blending vulnerability and childlike comfort with the stark mechanics of addiction. The photograph, therefore, encapsulates a potent mix of "tenderness, danger, dependence, trust, and horror all at once."
Taking Art Where Others Refuse to Look
The Verena Kerfin Gallery’s assertion that "art begins precisely where others do not want to look, or cannot look" resonates deeply with Stein’s artistic philosophy. However, she also acknowledges that art can originate from anywhere and is shaped by an artist’s unique experiences and perspectives. "My life pushed me in a certain direction; someone else’s life might lead them to make something much lighter, softer, or more decorative. That is still art," she muses.
Stein believes her work blends art with a documentary sensibility to challenge ingrained biases. She critiques many forms of photography, including popular street photography and even war photography, for reinforcing existing narratives or relying on superficial tropes. "War photography often reinforces a particular political position. Popular street photography often relies on visual puns, gimmicks, light and shadow, and repeated tropes. It can be clever, but it often doesn’t challenge the viewer very much."
Her mission is to look "past the attractive narrative, past the acceptable narrative, and show what is actually there" when documenting communities like Kensington and Skid Row, or individuals living on the margins. While appreciative of gallery exhibitions, Stein emphasizes the importance of accessibility, hoping her work can reach a wider audience in public spaces. She laments the challenges posed by a culture influenced by censorship, algorithms, and institutional gatekeeping, which can limit the dissemination of critical visual narratives.
Following the Instinct of Social Intensity
Stein’s creative process is largely instinctual, driven by a pursuit of subjects possessing "social intensity, emotional intensity, or personal intensity." She often stumbles upon these compelling narratives in her daily life, allowing them to guide her photographic exploration.
While addiction will likely remain a component of her work, Stein is also exploring lighter themes through street photography, finding renewed engagement with the genre. "Right now, I’m interested in street photography again because it allows me to disengage somewhat from the heaviest subjects," she explains. "Street photography feels lighter to me, even though I can still tell serious stories through it. But it also allows for humor, strangeness, beauty, and everyday life." This embrace of diverse themes reflects a desire for a more balanced artistic practice, one that acknowledges the full spectrum of human experience.
Suzanne Stein’s work serves as a crucial reminder of the power of photography to confront, to question, and to illuminate the often-unseen corners of society. Her commitment to unsettling truths, even at personal cost, underscores the vital role of artists in challenging complacency and fostering a more empathetic and informed public discourse.
