Eight years after first offering a glimpse into the raw realities of Skid Row, photographer Suzanne Stein continues to confront societal discomfort with her unflinching street photography. Her latest exhibition, US: Slow Code, showcased at the Verena Kerfin Gallery in Berlin, highlights her extensive body of work documenting the devastating opioid and xylazine crises in Kensington, Philadelphia. Stein’s art intentionally eschews comfort, aiming instead to provoke thought and challenge viewers to confront difficult truths often relegated to the periphery of public consciousness.
Stein’s journey into documenting marginalized communities began with her powerful work in Skid Row, a stark urban landscape often characterized by poverty and addiction. Her early photographic explorations there, as noted in previous coverage, aimed to capture moments of profound human tenderness amidst bleak circumstances. This foundational experience paved the way for her most significant and sustained project: an immersive, multi-year documentation of Kensington, a Philadelphia neighborhood grappling with the escalating opioid epidemic and, more recently, the deadly repercussions of the xylazine crisis.
Documenting Kensington: Beyond Addiction’s Shadow
Stein’s extensive work in Kensington, spanning several years, aimed to present a comprehensive portrait of the community, moving beyond the singular narrative of addiction. “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 in a recent interview. “The people suffering on the street are part of the story, but they are not the whole story.” This holistic approach sought to humanize a community often reduced to a symbol of societal failure.
The Verena Kerfin Gallery’s decision to exhibit Stein’s Kensington work in US: Slow Code underscores the artist’s commitment to challenging conventional perspectives. The gallery’s introduction to the exhibition stated, “She does not work on images that soothe. She works on images that unsettle.” This sentiment directly mirrors Stein’s own artistic philosophy, emphasizing the power of photography to jolt viewers out of complacency. The gallery further articulated the complex nature of Kensington, describing it 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.” This characterization highlights a societal paradox where widespread suffering is allowed to persist, largely unaddressed by those in positions of power, while the rest of the world continues its routines.
The xylazine crisis, a significant focus of Stein’s recent work, presents a particularly grim chapter in the ongoing struggle with substance use. Xylazine, a potent animal tranquilizer not approved for human use, is increasingly being mixed with illicit drugs like fentanyl. Its use leads to severe skin ulcerations, necrosis, and limb amputations, often exacerbating the already perilous conditions faced by individuals struggling with addiction. Data from the Philadelphia Department of Public Health has indicated a significant rise in drug overdose deaths involving xylazine. Between 2019 and 2022, xylazine was detected in over 20% of all fatal drug overdoses in the city, a stark increase that underscores the urgency of Stein’s documentation.
A Courageous Curatorial Vision: US: Slow Code
The exhibition US: Slow Code featured a deliberate and powerful selection of Stein’s images, curated by Verena Kerfin herself. “Verena made a very specific and courageous selection of images,” Stein remarked. While Stein provided a shortlist, Kerfin’s final edit aligned with her distinct artistic vision, revealing what Stein terms a "slow public emergency"—a gradual deterioration occurring in plain sight.
The curated selection primarily focused on images of individuals incapacitated or physically overcome by their circumstances. This edit, Stein explained, was intended to make a broader statement about abandonment within the United States. She noted that such a selection of images would likely face significant obstacles to exhibition or publication within the US, suggesting a cultural reluctance to confront these stark realities on American soil.
Although Stein was unable to attend the exhibition in person due to logistical challenges, she engaged with attendees through a video installation that detailed her work, process, and artistic intentions. The positive reception, with visitors spending considerable time with the images, affirmed the impact of her challenging yet crucial work. “I was told that people were very interested, that they stayed with the images, and that they spent real time in the gallery. That meant a lot to me, especially because the work is difficult and asks something of the viewer,” Stein shared.
The Personal Toll of Witnessing Trauma
Stein’s immersion in Kensington for three years came at a significant personal cost. The constant exposure to physical danger, intense negativity, and profound human suffering led her to step back from direct documentation of addiction. “I met people and witnessed situations that did not reinforce positive feelings about humanity. 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.”
While she has shifted her focus, Stein remains committed to documenting significant social issues. Her intention is not to be solely defined by the depiction of addiction, poverty, and homelessness. “I don’t really want to keep photographing people on the street suffering from addiction in the same way. If I do, it would have to be very different, or it would have to be part of a specific assignment with a clear purpose,” she stated.
Her current interest lies in exploring the aftermath of the Kensington crisis, focusing on the long-term impacts: parents who have lost children to overdose, families striving for recovery and rebuilding, and those navigating the challenges of caring for children who have survived addiction but live with permanent disabilities. This new direction allows her to remain connected to the narrative while shifting the lens to encompass resilience and the enduring human spirit in the face of profound loss.
Stein reflected on the inherent challenges of photographing these sensitive subjects, noting the “deep resistance to seeing what is actually happening on American streets.” She contrasted this with the more “sanitized version” often presented by mainstream media, highlighting the crucial role of documentary photography in offering an unvarnished perspective.
The Unseen Scars: Personal History and Artistic Drive
Stein’s artistic drive is deeply intertwined with her personal history. She candidly admits that her own experiences with significant distress—financial instability, single parenthood of a child on the autism spectrum, navigating the competitive photography world, and a family history marked by alcoholism and addiction—have drawn her to these challenging subjects. “The reason I’ve been drawn to this work in the first place is that I have also lived with serious distress myself,” she revealed. This personal connection, she believes, allows her to approach her subjects with a greater degree of empathy and understanding, enabling her to delve deeper into realities that many choose to ignore.
The mental toll of her work in environments like Kensington was profound. “Even if you are there to tell a story, and even if you understand what you are doing intellectually, it still affects your nervous system and your outlook,” Stein stated. She acknowledged that the work had, at times, made her more negative and potentially more difficult to be around, a candid self-assessment born from the frustration of witnessing ongoing crises with minimal societal response.
A key distinction Stein draws between her Skid Row and Kensington projects lies in the nature of the human connections formed. While her Skid Row work allowed for the development of meaningful relationships, characterized by the spirit, humor, and resilience of her subjects, Kensington presented a different, more harrowing reality. “Kensington was different. 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,” she explained. The pervasive criminality, exploitation, and desperation she witnessed made maintaining faith challenging, impacting her outlook and her ongoing effort to regain a sense of hope and belief in humanity.
Navigating the "Poverty Porn" Debate in Street Photography
The discourse surrounding "poverty porn" in documentary and street photography is a complex and often contentious one. Stein expresses a strong aversion to the term, viewing it as a tool that can prematurely shut down critical conversations about marginalized communities. She argues that the label is often used to shame photographers advocating for awareness of difficult realities, while acknowledging that no artist is beyond critique, especially when the line between documenting and exploiting becomes blurred.
Stein draws parallels to conflict photography, where the ethical tightrope walk between information and exploitation is particularly precarious. “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 stated. She emphasizes that while many photographers have good intentions, the pursuit of notoriety or career advancement can sometimes lead to ethical compromises. Stein advocates for applying the same rigorous photographic attention to the streets of the United States as is given to international crisis zones, asserting that these domestic crises deserve equal seriousness and visibility.
An Unsettling Moment of Tenderness: The Power of a Single Image
One photograph from the US: Slow Code exhibition that holds particular significance for Stein is an image depicting Mike injecting Crystal in the neck with fentanyl and xylazine. This image, she explains, encapsulates the brutal and complex realities of the Kensington crisis, while also revealing an unexpected moment of human connection.
“Before I went to Kensington, I had never seen people inject into the neck before,” Stein recounted. “When I first saw it in 2022, I was in a state of shock. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, and I couldn’t believe how openly it was happening.” She describes neck injections as a common practice when veins in the arms are no longer usable, often leading to severe danger and exploitation. In Kensington, a "cottage industry" has emerged where individuals, sometimes for a fee, administer injections for those who are unable to do so themselves, particularly young people who may be addicted but squeamish about needles.
In the specific instance captured in the photograph, Crystal was experiencing withdrawal symptoms due to an inability to find a usable vein and difficulty injecting herself. Mike’s intervention, administering the injection, prevented her from further suffering. Stein notes the stark contradiction: a brutal act born of desperation, yet performed with a degree of intimacy and trust. This juxtaposition is what makes the image so powerful for her.
Furthermore, the photograph represents a hard-won level of trust. “I also value the picture because I had gained enough trust that they allowed me to photograph what was happening,” Stein stated. “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, Stein interpreted it as a self-soothing gesture, akin to a child’s thumb-sucking. However, she later understood its functional purpose: to make the neck vein more visible for the injector. This seemingly small gesture transforms the image, lending it a veneer of vulnerability and childlike innocence, while simultaneously revealing a core mechanism of addiction. The photograph, therefore, becomes a complex tableau of tenderness, danger, dependence, trust, and horror, all interwoven into a single frame.
Taking Art to Unseen Corners
The Verena Kerfin Gallery, through its exhibition of Stein’s work, reinforces the notion that true art often emerges from places where others refuse or are unable to look. Stein, however, posits that art can originate anywhere, shaped by an artist’s unique experiences, advantages, wounds, 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 mused.
For her own practice, Stein believes she merges art with a documentary sensibility to dismantle biases. She observes that many forms of photography inadvertently reinforce existing prejudices—war photography often aligning with specific political stances, and popular street photography relying on superficial tropes. “When I photograph places like Kensington, Skid Row, or people living on the margins, I’m trying to look past the attractive narrative, past the acceptable narrative, and show what is actually there,” she asserted.
While acknowledging the value of gallery exhibitions, Stein desires greater accessibility for her work. She hopes her photography can reach broader audiences in public spaces, moving beyond the confines of traditional art venues. “I don’t always know where the work belongs. I just know that I keep making it. I still hope it can reach young people, and people who need to see beyond the filtered version of reality we are usually given,” she expressed, noting the increasing challenges posed by censorship, algorithms, and media gatekeeping.
The Future of Stein’s Lens: From Distress to Everyday Life
Stein’s artistic process is largely intuitive, driven by her instinct to follow stories that reveal themselves through daily encounters. “I stumble into a person or a situation that has social intensity, emotional intensity, or personal intensity, and then I follow it.” While addiction will likely remain a thematic element in her work, she is increasingly drawn to exploring lighter, more everyday aspects of street photography.
“Right now, I’m interested in street photography again because it allows me to disengage somewhat from the heaviest subjects,” Stein explained. “Street photography feels lighter to me, even though I can still tell serious stories through it. I always have. But it also allows for humor, strangeness, beauty, and everyday life.” This renewed engagement with street photography suggests a desire to balance her deeply impactful social commentary with a broader exploration of human experience, acknowledging the inherent complexities and varied expressions of life on the street.
Suzanne Stein’s website, suzannesteinphoto.com, offers a comprehensive view of her portfolio. Further details on the US: Slow Code exhibition can be found on the Verena Kerfin Gallery website: verenakerfingallery.com/exhibitions/detail/212_usslowcode. Stein can also be followed on Instagram at @suzanne_stein.
