Eight years ago, street photographer Suzanne Stein offered a stark glimpse into the realities of Skid Row, capturing moments of profound tenderness against a backdrop of urban bleakness. Her work, characterized by its unflinching gaze at marginalized communities, has since evolved, with her most extensive and impactful project focusing on Kensington, Philadelphia. There, Stein meticulously documented the devastating opioid epidemic and the subsequent, even more perilous, xylazine crisis, which has brought about severe physical deterioration and fatalities.
Stein, however, adamantly asserts that her artistic intention extended far beyond merely illustrating addiction. Her comprehensive body of work aimed to present Kensington not as a symbol of despair or societal failure, but as a living, breathing community. "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 nuanced approach underscores her commitment to portraying complex human realities with dignity and depth.
This dedication to portraying multifaceted truths resonated with the Verena Kerfin Gallery in Berlin, which recently concluded an exhibition showcasing a selection of Stein’s Kensington photographs. Titled "US: Slow Code," the exhibition curated by Verena Kerfin herself, aimed to highlight the unsettling nature of Stein’s imagery. As the gallery introduced the show, they stated, "She does not work on images that soothe. She works on images that unsettle." This sentiment was mirrored in their description of Kensington, which they characterized 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." The gallery’s framing points to a critical observation: poverty in Kensington is not a result of a lack of resources, but rather a systemic arrangement that allows its inhabitants to endure profound suffering, while the external world continues its routines largely unaffected.
A Curated Gaze: The "US: Slow Code" Exhibition
Verena Kerfin’s selection for "US: Slow Code" was deliberate and, according to Stein, "very specific and courageous." While Stein provided a shortlist of potential images, Kerfin’s final edit aligned with her own artistic vision, focusing on photographs that depicted individuals in states of incapacitation or physical vulnerability. "She chose photographs of people lying down, incapacitated, or otherwise physically overcome, and she used that selection to make a larger statement about abandonment in the United States," Stein elaborated. She further noted the challenging nature of such imagery, suggesting that these photographs might be "very difficult, if not impossible, to exhibit or publish in the US."
Although unable to attend the exhibition in person due to geographical distance, Stein participated remotely through a video installation. This allowed her to directly engage with attendees, discussing her work, her creative process, and the underlying messages she sought to convey. "I was told that people were very interested, that they stayed with the images, and that they spent real time in the gallery," Stein reported. "That meant a lot to me, especially because the work is difficult and asks something of the viewer." The exhibition’s success in fostering contemplation and engagement with difficult subject matter highlights the power of art to provoke dialogue and shift perspectives.
The Emotional Toll of Documenting Crisis
Stein’s immersive three-year engagement with Kensington, while artistically profound, exacted a significant emotional and physical toll, leading her to step back from directly documenting addiction. The inherent dangers of the environment, coupled with the pervasive negativity and trauma, proved overwhelming. "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 profound experience has reshaped Stein’s approach. While she remains committed to addressing serious social issues through her lens, she is keen to move beyond being solely identified with the themes 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."
Shifting Focus: Documenting the Aftermath
Currently, Stein’s interest lies in exploring the long-term consequences of the crises that have gripped Kensington. This includes documenting the lives of parents who have lost children to overdose, families striving to rebuild their lives, and parents whose children have survived but are now living with permanent disabilities. This new direction allows her to remain connected to the narrative while offering a different, yet equally vital, perspective.
Stein observes a widespread reluctance to confront these harsh realities in the United States, noting, "It is a very complicated subject to photograph, especially because photographers who look at it honestly are often vilified. There is a deep resistance to seeing what is actually happening on American streets." She contrasts this with the "much more sanitized version" often presented by mainstream media, suggesting that a critical examination of these issues is often avoided.
Personal Resonance and Artistic Drive
Stein’s drive to document these challenging realities is deeply rooted in her own life experiences. She acknowledges that her personal history, marked by financial instability, single parenthood of a child on the autism spectrum, and a family history of alcoholism and addiction, has shaped her perspective and drawn her to these difficult subjects. "You have to be able to function in situations that are painful, ugly, dangerous, and overwhelming," she reflected. "But the reason I’ve been drawn to this work in the first place is that I have also lived with serious distress myself."
The emotional impact of her work in Kensington has been profound. She describes a period where she had to cultivate a degree of emotional detachment to remain functional amidst overwhelming circumstances. This necessary callousness, however, came at a cost. "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. "I think the work has made me more negative at times, and probably more difficult to be around. I’ve had to be honest with myself about that." This introspection also stems from a frustration with the slow pace of societal response to ongoing crises.
Comparing her experiences in Kensington with her earlier work in Skid Row, Stein notes a significant difference in the nature of human connection. While Skid Row also presented harrowing scenes, including instances of bondage and trafficking, Stein found a resilient spirit, humor, and character among its inhabitants, leading to meaningful relationships. "Skid Row was also full of terrible things," she recalled. "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."
Kensington, by contrast, presented a different dynamic. "To be perfectly honest, I don’t feel that I came away from Kensington with many meaningful relationships," Stein confessed. "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 pervasive criminality, exploitation, and desperation she witnessed made it difficult to maintain faith, leading to a shift in her outlook that she is still working to overcome, striving to "regain some sense of hope, purpose, and belief in people."
Re-evaluating "Poverty Porn" in Photography
The discourse surrounding "poverty porn" in documentary and street photography is often contentious, with certain subjects, such as homelessness, frequently deemed off-limits. Stein, however, expresses disdain for the term, viewing it as a tool to prematurely shut down critical conversations. She believes that such labels are often used to shame photographers who aim to raise awareness about difficult realities, while acknowledging that no artist is beyond critique.
Stein emphasizes the fine line between exploitation and information when photographing individuals in distress, whether in conflict zones like Gaza or Ukraine, or in domestic settings like Kensington or Skid Row. "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 call for parity in attention and critical engagement underscores her belief that suffering and hardship within one’s own nation deserve the same level of journalistic scrutiny and artistic exploration as international crises.
An Unsettling Moment of Tenderness: The Photograph 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, according to Stein, encapsulates the complex and often contradictory nature of the human experience within the context of addiction.
"Before I went to Kensington, I had never seen people inject into the neck before," Stein explained. "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." Stein elaborates on the grim necessity of neck injections, often a last resort when veins in the arms are no longer viable. The procedure itself is fraught with danger, and the practice has evolved into a grim form of transactional service, with individuals charging for injections, particularly for those who are new to drug use or squeamish about needles.
In the specific instance captured, Crystal was experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms ("dope sick") because she could not find a usable vein and was unable to self-inject effectively. Mike’s intervention, while facilitating drug use, simultaneously prevented her from enduring a deeper level of withdrawal. "It is a brutal situation, but there was also a kind of intimacy and trust between them," Stein observed. "That contradiction is part of what makes the photograph important to me."
The photograph’s significance is amplified by the trust Stein had cultivated, which allowed her to document such a private and vulnerable moment. This access, she emphasizes, is a product of sustained presence and respectful engagement, not of fleeting observation. "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."
Further adding layers of meaning to the image is Crystal’s gesture of placing her thumb in her mouth. Initially perceived as a self-soothing, childlike action, Stein later understood its functional role in making the neck vein more visible for the injection. "That small gesture changes the whole image. 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."
Confronting Societal Blind Spots
The Verena Kerfin Gallery’s exhibition, "US: Slow Code," served to amplify Stein’s core message: that art often emerges from the places society chooses to ignore. Stein, however, broadens this perspective, suggesting that art’s genesis is deeply personal, shaped by individual experiences, advantages, wounds, and unique viewpoints. "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.
Stein believes her work marries artistic expression with a documentary sensibility to dismantle ingrained biases. She critiques certain forms of photography, including some war photography and popular street photography, for reinforcing existing perspectives rather than challenging them. "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 objective in photographing communities like Kensington and Skid Row, and individuals living on the fringes, is to transcend superficial narratives and expose the unvarnished truth. "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."
While Stein appreciates gallery recognition, she advocates for broader accessibility of her work, envisioning it displayed in public spaces where it might reach a wider audience beyond traditional art circles. "I don’t always know where the work belongs. I just know that I keep making it," she stated. Her hope is to connect with young people and those who are exposed to a curated, filtered version of reality. However, she acknowledges the growing challenges posed by censorship, algorithmic gatekeeping, and media institutions resistant to unconventional perspectives.
The Unfolding Narrative of Street Photography
Stein’s approach to her work is intuitive rather than rigidly planned. She often discovers compelling stories by immersing herself in daily life, drawn to situations possessing "social intensity, emotional intensity, or personal intensity." While addiction will likely remain a recurring theme, Stein is also exploring lighter, more whimsical aspects of street photography, recognizing its capacity to convey profound stories with nuance and even humor. "Right now, I’m interested in street photography again because it allows me to disengage somewhat from the heaviest subjects. 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 evolving perspective suggests a holistic engagement with the human experience, acknowledging its multifaceted nature from the darkest to the most luminous moments.
