A couple months ago I was asked to photograph The El by The Spirit. The assignment was open ended and the editor told me to do whatever I wanted with it.
“You’ll know when you’re done because you found your story,” he told me.
I’m not sure if you remember, but a few months ago was extremely cold. Basically, it was spring disguised as winter. I covered the stops from Spring Garden to Allegheny, but it was so cold I could only cover a few stops at a time before I lost the feeling in my fingers and had to return home. The assignment turned into a month long project.
Photograph The El? Ok, what part? The people? The stops? The landscape? The trash?
I sat and I waited and I watched. I started to notice that people don’t see you until you’re out of place. If I was on one platform taking a shot, the train might pull up and all the passengers but me would get on. The train would pull away and I was still standing there, awkwardly. Now, I’m exposed. I’m no longer a commuter, but something else, something not to be trusted. Now everyone on the other side, the Westbound side, is hip to my game, they are no longer anonymous subjects. Everyone is suddenly aware I might be taking their picture. Damn. That round is gone. Now I have to wait for another group of passengers while I pretend that I’m a lost tourist.
I saw a lot of shots that I missed, but the stories slowly started to present themselves. This is a glimpse of life on an elevated line that ties our city together in a collage of loneliness, isolation, beauty, and hope in one of the most interesting corners of Philadelphia.
