Erik Castro’s career essentially is in public service. A freelance photojournalist, he tries to bring to light the less-visible lives in Northern California’s comfortable Wine Country. And what he really wants is for the residents, his neighbors, to see their community through his pictures.
Sonoma County’s population includes 3,000 homeless people; at least half of those are in Santa Rosa, the largest city. The homeless are a common, often disparaged sight around town, camping under overpasses and in urban doorways, Castro says:
"Simply showing a homeless person buried beneath blankets in news coverage I felt offered little new information than what we already learn when driving past sleeping bodies in many American cities. I wanted to create photography that shows what homelessness feels like from the person experiencing it. And that means spending lots of time with the subjects."
Castro went looking for potential subjects on a sidewalk under a freeway in February 2017. As he bent over an older woman who lay moaning on the cold pavement, a man named Steve Singleton aggressively approached:
“ 'What the hell are you doing here and get away from her with that camera!' Singleton yelled out. I thought he was going to hit me. I got him to calm down after telling him I wanted to spend several months photographing someone’s daily homeless life. 'I hate reporters,' he said as he looked suspiciously at me," Castro recalls.
But Steve, then age 51 and a 15-year veteran of the streets, took Castro to meet Michelle Last, 48, his companion of nine years. They spent the afternoon talking, Steve very intensely, and the next day the couple approached Castro near the same site: They had decided they wanted to be in the project, Castro says.
"Before I realized it I was beginning what would be a 14-month documentary photography project on this couple’s life. It would be one of the most exhausting projects of my career and also the last year of the couple’s nine-year relationship. I was convinced they were the right choice. At the time, Steve had a full-time job, neither of them touched alcohol, and both could articulate their feelings with both words and their expressive faces. 'If your story could change even just one person’s mind about the homeless, then it will have been worth it,' Steve told me that day."
The Santa Rosa Press Democrat, the region’s largest paper, already had devoted much time and space to the homeless situation through 2016. Castro worried that the community would be fatigued with another homeless story by the time his was published. A mentor, Ken Lyons, then at The Denver Post, suggested Castro build a website for the project. “Publish it yourself online” was Lyons’ advice. So Castro did:
"I soon realized the website had a more practical purpose. It became the main tool to track and tell Steve and Michelle’s story almost in real time. I would choose a single image to create chapters based on what the couple was experiencing."
Castro met his subjects under freeways and in tent camps, and he was there for court dates and a visit to a hospitalized friend. Steve was a unique, vocal character, but Michelle’s face is what drew Castro in.
"One (photograph) was of Michelle exiting her tent surrounded by what looks like a dark cement cave. Her arms are stretched out above her as she touches the concrete belly of Highway 101. … She looked like Sisyphus to me holding the highway in that manner."
Castro kept his focus on the people, relying on his Nikon D610 with a 50mm f1.4 lens, and carrying a 17-35mm f2.8 lens for wider views. He made his photographs in color, but once he started looking at the results, he wound up converting them into black and white to avoid the distraction of the couple’s clothing. The bright orange they often wore was too much. “I think that’s what did it,” he says.
About six weeks in, Castro realized that keeping copious notes and updating the website wasn’t going to be enough to tell this story. He found a writer, Meg McConahey, a Press Democrat staff member who had worked with him previously. With McConahey pulling together the narrative, he could focus on the visuals. And Steve and Michelle were comfortable with her from the start. McConahey recalls:
"It’s difficult, if not impossible, to find the time to do immersion journalism in the digital-first newsroom. … But when Erik asked me to work with him on a homeless project I didn’t hesitate, both because of my interest in the human side of homelessness and my respect for Erik and his integrity and commitment as a photojournalist."
Like Castro, she kept a low profile among the homeless, her cellphone recorder picking up conversation and banter, her notebook used “mainly to jot down visual details.” Since she had other deadlines, she relied on Castro to let her know when important things were coming up.
Castro is a veteran of long-term projects -- and the consequences of getting involved in subjects’ lives. Early in his career, he photographed a story on the only single father in a housing project. The subject thought they were friends and it “got messy at the end,” Castro says. So he was upfront with Steve and Michelle: He would listen, but he wasn’t a buddy and he wouldn’t offer advice.
"They clearly respected my position that I not alter their lives in any way. They rarely asked for my assistance."
Going deeply into people’s lives is “exhilarating” he says, but time-consuming. Castro would spend two or three days a week with the couple. Steve finally told the photographer to get a bicycle so he could keep up with them. Castro says he also spent “an insane amount of time on my porch at night, just listening” to them on the phone. The project also affected his finances:
"I had applied for a couple of grants but was denied. ... I even had to turn down some daily assignment work because I had something critical to cover in the couple’s life. Meg is a staff writer with a salary, but she worked almost the entire year of her reporting on her off time. We were both fueled by our belief that Steve and Michelle had offered up this community a rare gift; unfettered access to an extraordinary couple’s life."
Months into the project, Castro and McConahey took the proposal to two Press Democrat editors, Photo Chief Chad Surmick and Features Editor Corinne Asturias. Surmick recalls:
"As the project progressed it became clear we had something really special and a story that had to be told and to do the right thing with it. … The body of work after a year was astounding."
McConahey was given three weeks in which to review hours of tapes and a year of notes, then write a draft. Her expansive plan for the story met with revisions, however:
"My initial draft was cut in half. I would like to have presented more context and backstory and fine detail. ... But Erik’s intimate photography powerfully conveys what could not be said."
Castro designed the entire online version at home, adding in McConahey’s copy. He spent five months on what Surmick calls “his wonderfully constructed page,” but Castro wishes he’d had more eyeballs on it. “It literally went from my laptop to their site,” he says.
Steve and Michelle’s public story ends in bittersweet reality. Michelle found a job in security detail for fairs and other events, and the couple finally qualified for a small apartment. Visiting Michelle at work, Castro almost didn’t recognize her: She looked happy. But Steve could not cope with living indoors. After a fight, Michelle threw him out and secured a temporary restraining order against him. He was later arrested on charges of violating the order and domestic violence.
“Broken” appeared in Sonoma Magazine and on the Press Democrat website in early September 2018, then in two installments in the newspaper a month later. “This was the vision from the beginning, to tell this story over multiple platforms so it could make the greatest impact and be seen,” Surmick says.
Castro and McConahey visited Steve in jail, but they have eased out of their subjects’ lives. Castro has returned to daily freelance assignments but tries to keep “Broken” in the public eye.
“I feel like talking about this project is a big part of its purpose because so much happened that's just not communicated in the published story,” he says. The local community college exhibited some photos to accompany his lecture there. And he has other projects planned. “It’s a shame that long-form photojournalism is disappearing from publications,” Castro says. “You become a more articulate photographer the more you do it.” ■
Kathy Morrison is a freelance writer and editor who formerly worked at The Sacramento Bee.
Erik Castro's website is erikcastrophoto.com
