Eight years after a glimpse into the raw realities of Skid Row, Suzanne Stein’s unflinching lens has captured the profound human impact of the opioid and xylazine crises in Kensington, Philadelphia. Her latest exhibition, US: Slow Code at the Verena Kerfin Gallery in Berlin, showcases a courageous selection of images that challenge viewers to confront uncomfortable truths about addiction, poverty, and systemic neglect in the United States. Stein’s work, characterized by its refusal to offer easy answers or aesthetic comfort, delves into the lives of those affected by these epidemics, revealing not just their suffering, but the complex tapestry of a community under immense pressure.
Stein’s photographic journey, which began with documenting the “wild side of street photography” in Los Angeles’ Skid Row, has evolved into a sustained, deeply personal exploration of social crises. Her most extensive body of work centers on Kensington, a Philadelphia neighborhood that became ground zero for the devastating opioid epidemic and subsequently the alarming rise of xylazine, a veterinary tranquilizer increasingly mixed with illicit drugs, leading to severe wounds, long-term disabilities, and fatalities. However, Stein emphasizes that her intention was never solely to focus on addiction itself.
"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 holistic approach aims to present Kensington as a living, breathing place, rather than a mere symbol of societal ills.
A Courageous Exhibition in Berlin
The Verena Kerfin Gallery recognized the potent and unsettling nature of Stein’s vision, selecting a body of work for US: Slow Code that deliberately avoids aesthetic solace. The gallery’s introduction to the exhibition powerfully articulated this, stating, “She does not work on images that soothe. She works on images that unsettle.” Their description of Kensington mirrored Stein’s own observations, framing the neighborhood 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 framing highlights a critical paradox: poverty and suffering are acutely present, yet the societal and political structures seem designed to render them manageable rather than eradicable, allowing the outside world to maintain its routine.
Stein lauded the gallery’s “specific and courageous selection” of her work. While she provided a shortlist, Verena Kerfin’s final edit, aligned with her own artistic vision, focused on images that depicted individuals in states of incapacitation or physical vulnerability. This curated selection, Stein believes, powerfully communicates a broader statement about abandonment in the United States, issues she suggests would be extremely challenging, if not impossible, to exhibit or publish within the U.S.
Though unable to attend the exhibition in person, Stein connected with attendees through a video installation, sharing her process and intentions. The feedback indicated a profound engagement with the work, with visitors spending significant time with the images, a testament to their power to provoke thought and emotion.
The Personal Toll of Documenting Trauma
The immersion in Kensington for three years took a significant emotional and physical toll on Stein, leading her to step back from direct documentation of addiction. The constant exposure to physical danger, distressing sights, overwhelming odors, and intense emotional turmoil proved difficult to absorb and recover from. "I met people and witnessed situations that did not reinforce positive feelings about humanity," she admitted. "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 no longer wishes to document addiction in the same manner, Stein remains committed to addressing serious social issues. Her focus, however, has shifted from the immediate crisis to its lingering consequences. She is now more interested in documenting the aftermath in Kensington: the parents who have lost children to overdose, families striving to rebuild their lives, or those whose children have survived but are left with permanent disabilities. This evolving perspective allows her to maintain a connection to the narrative while exploring its enduring human impact.
Stein reflects on the broader resistance to confronting these realities, noting the stark contrast between her work and the "much more sanitized version" often presented by mainstream media. "There is a deep resistance to seeing what is actually happening on American streets," she observed.
Tracing Personal Imprints: From Skid Row to Kensington
The profound impact of Kensington extends beyond its societal implications to Stein’s personal life. The experience necessitated a degree of emotional detachment to function in intensely painful and dangerous environments. "You have to be able to function in situations that are painful, ugly, dangerous, and overwhelming," she stated. Yet, she acknowledges a personal resonance with these difficult realities, having navigated her own share of personal distress, including financial instability, single parenthood of a child on the autism spectrum, and a family history of alcoholism and addiction. This personal history, she believes, draws her to document the experiences of others who are often overlooked.
The immersion in perilous environments like Kensington came at a cost, affecting her nervous system and outlook. "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."
Stein distinguishes her Kensington experience from her earlier work in Skid Row. While Skid Row also presented immense challenges, including witnessing exploitation and trafficking, she found a profound spirit, humor, and character in many of its inhabitants, leading to meaningful, lasting relationships. Kensington, however, presented a different dynamic. "The drugs there, and the particular conditions on those streets, seemed to hollow people out in a different way," she observed. The pervasive criminality, exploitation, and desperation made it difficult to maintain faith, leaving a lasting impact on her outlook and her search for hope and belief in humanity.
Reframing the Discourse on "Poverty Porn"
The heated debates surrounding "poverty porn" in documentary and street photography often lead to strict, sometimes prohibitive, guidelines. Photographing homelessness, for instance, is frequently discouraged within certain street photography circles. Stein, however, rejects the term "poverty porn," viewing it as a dismissive label that stifles important conversations. She believes such framing can shame photographers who are attempting to raise awareness about difficult realities.
While acknowledging that photographers are not above criticism and that the line between exploitation and information can be fine, especially in conflict zones or areas of extreme distress like Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Syria, Kensington, or Skid Row, Stein argues for a more nuanced approach. She notes that while many photographers have good intentions, some may pursue such work for notoriety or career advancement.
Stein advocates for applying the same rigorous photographic attention to the streets of the United States as is given to international crisis 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," she asserted.
An Unsettling Moment of Tenderness: The Story Behind the Image
One of the most poignant images featured in the US: Slow Code exhibition is of Mike injecting Crystal in the neck with fentanyl and xylazine. This photograph, according to Stein, encapsulates the complex contradictions she strives to capture.
"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. It was a very disturbing sight." This method of injection, she explains, often becomes necessary when veins in the arms are no longer usable. The practice is fraught with danger, including the risk of collapse and the need for emergency intervention.
Furthermore, Stein sheds light on a disturbing aspect of this practice: a form of underground industry where individuals charge others for injections. This is particularly prevalent among younger individuals who may be addicted to opioids but squeamish about needles, or unable to inject themselves. They become dependent not only on the drug but also on others for administration.
In the specific instance captured, Crystal was experiencing withdrawal symptoms due to her inability to find a usable vein and her difficulty with self-injection. Mike’s intervention, while rooted in the grim reality of drug use, offered her immediate relief from severe discomfort. "In that moment, he was preventing her from going deeper into withdrawal," Stein explained. "It is a brutal situation, but there was also a kind of intimacy and trust between them. That contradiction is part of what makes the photograph important to me."
The access Stein gained to photograph such a private and vulnerable moment is a testament to her patient and respectful approach. "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," she emphasized.
A subtle yet significant detail in the photograph is Crystal’s thumb in her mouth. Initially, Stein interpreted it as a self-soothing, childlike gesture. However, she later understood its functional purpose: to make the neck vein more visible for the injection. "That small gesture changes the whole image," Stein noted. "It looks vulnerable, almost childlike, but it is also part of the mechanics of addiction. That is why the photograph stays with me. It contains tenderness, danger, dependence, trust, and horror all at once."
Taking Art Where Others Refuse to Look
The Verena Kerfin Gallery’s exhibition reinforces the notion that art can emerge from spaces others avoid. Stein, however, posits that art can originate anywhere, 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 mused.
For her own work, Stein endeavors to blend art with a documentary sensibility to dismantle biases. She observes that many forms of photography, including popular street photography and even some war photography, can reinforce existing narratives or rely on superficial cleverness rather than genuine challenge. "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 stated.
While grateful for gallery exposure, Stein aspires for her work to reach a broader audience in public spaces. She acknowledges the increasing difficulty in achieving this in a culture shaped by censorship, algorithms, and media institutions that often operate within narrow confines. "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 said.
Stein’s creative process is largely intuitive. She often stumbles upon subjects with social, emotional, or personal intensity and then follows their narrative. "I stumble into a person or a situation that has social intensity, emotional intensity, or personal intensity, and then I follow it," she explained.
While addiction will likely remain a thematic element in her work, Stein is also exploring other, lighter themes within street photography. "Right now, I’m interested in street photography again because it allows me to disengage somewhat from the heaviest subjects," she shared. "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."
Suzanne Stein’s dedication to capturing the unvarnished truth, even when it’s uncomfortable, continues to push the boundaries of documentary and street photography, offering a vital counterpoint to curated realities and demanding that we look where others refuse to.
For more of Suzanne Stein’s work, visit her website at https://www.suzannesteinphoto.com/. Information about the US: Slow Code exhibition can be found at the Verena Kerfin Gallery: https://verenakerfingallery.com/exhibitions/detail/212_usslowcode. Follow Suzanne on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/suzanne_stein.
