It has been lightly edited for clarity.
Maggie Steber: I look at your “Geography of Poverty” project, which I have done many, many times, and most of what I think I see is how it feels to be poor. This is what has drawn me to this work and keeps me going back to it. But I have heard other people ask what some of the photos have to do with poverty or being poor or living in a dying town. I always step up and say it’s about how it looks in some places, but it’s also about how it feels to be poor. I wonder if you could explain how you feel about your own work. Is it about feeling or being or seeing, or what has been your visual approach and philosophy about that work in how you photograph it?
Matt Black: I understand the question, but I don’t think it’s an accurate starting point in that there is quite a bit of information in the work and basic reporting that is valuable on its own. For example, on my first trip across the country in 2015, I was in Flint and in Standing Rock long before either of those places became a focus of the media. Then the next year, in 2016, my trip dealt with steel plant closures in Ohio and the effects of [President Bill] Clinton mass incarceration policies in Philadelphia — work that was done and published before the election. So I’m not ready to say that I haven’t done my share in terms of basic journalism with this project.
But I understand what the question is about because poverty in and of itself and in isolation is not at all what I am interested in. Devoid of context or any broader meaning, it becomes quite horrible to try to photograph in that way. It’s an approach that’s been tried before and with pretty bad results, in my opinion.
See, Maggie, I’ve lived in a place like those I’m photographing for my entire life. So what interests me is not the “let's talk about poverty one more time” sort of approach, but the forces behind this particular type of environment, and what it is like to live there, and the power dynamics that lie behind that. And, yes, the psychology of being unempowered and what that does to shape one’s sense of self, one’s place in the world and one’s perception of reality. And how that means that things like poisoned water in Flint or having an oil pipeline built across your land in North Dakota can happen in the first place. To me, it’s an “A plus B” type of question, and I am more interested in A than in B. These things happen as a result of these broader forces.
This interests me because this is the kind of place I am from, and I’ve seen this stuff for my entire life. It’s as much about environment and psychology as it is about the latest policy change or the current unemployment rate. It's about having your road be full of potholes, having your electric pole lean over and the wires droop, having the windows of your downtown businesses be broken or full of mold.
My feeling is that the way we talk and think about America has been wrong for a long time and is shaped by a simplistic narrative made in powerful places, designed to project a certain image of America. It leaves out too many places and people.
MS: Did you have an idea of how you would approach it visually, or did it come to you as you moved forward with the project?
MB: I knew. It’s a very specific idea and reality that I’m interested in, so that has shaped the photos from the beginning.
MS: You seem drawn to Mexico and the Central Valley and places where there is more Hispanic/Mexican culture. Is that true, or am I just imagining it? If it is true, can you tell us what draws you to that culture? And has the work you have done in Mexico been an inspiration for the “Geography of Poverty”?
MB: I’m from the part of California that I’ve photographed, the Central Valley. Right now I live about 15 minutes away from the house I grew up in. When I started in photography, my goal was nothing more than to represent this place I’m from because I felt I could do it better. Later, I began to see connections to other places and to broader themes. That’s what led me to photograph in Mexico, and now, that’s why I am traveling to other parts of the U.S. It all draws upon the experience and the perspective I formed at home.
As to the second part of your question, I'm not actually that interested in culture by itself. To me, that ends up being about what makes people different, when what interests me is what makes people the same: their commonalities and how things connect. For example, one of the big things that shaped this part of California was the Dust Bowl migration during the 1930s. Today, it’s the migration of people from Mexico and Central America. The parallels between these two migrations are very strong, but the cultures they came out of are quite different. I think the commonalities tell us more about the reasons why people migrate, and that’s much more relevant to forming an understanding of what’s going on. That’s what I am interested in.
MS: Are you drawn to people who have less? And if so, why? Is that you feel that whatever they might lack in material wealth, they have tenfold in their nature or spirituality or determination?
MB: No. It’s not about that at all. I do have a hard time photographing people I don’t like, but I am not looking to idolize, either. For me, it’s about portraying a certain reality. Many different kinds of people experience that reality, and I need to show all of it. The admirable ones and the less than admirable — it’s all part of life, and in the end, it’s not for me to judge anyway.
MS: I mentor a lot of younger photographers, and mostly I am excited about their work, the really hardworking and good ones, but I also see in a broader brush stroke of young photographers an impatience to get the photos and a disingenuous interest in people’s stories — they are less interested in that and more interested in getting the image. Oftentimes it seems once they get what they want, they move on. Do you see that? What do you think they miss by being impatient? If you agree with that, what would you say to those who are impatient and only looking for what something looks like? Or a dramatic image?
MB: I really don’t know. I have wondered what it would be like to come of age as a photographer right now, with the immediacy of publishing digitally and all that goes with it. I imagine it’s made it really hard to figure out one’s own identity first, without being buffeted by a lot of voices telling you what to do, what to think and so on. Maybe that has contributed to what you are talking about? I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you. If someone is disingenuous or is not dedicated enough, it will come out in their work eventually. You just can’t take shortcuts or fake it in this work. Your photographs will reveal everything about you.
MS: Could you share some words of wisdom about what happens to the work and to you during long-term dedication to a story or an idea that might coax photographers to stay the course a bit longer? Unless you don’t agree.
MB: I can only speak for myself, but I find nothing more satisfying than feeling like I truly have gotten to know a place and how it functions, and to see all the pieces fall into place, and to really see and to feel its life in my bones. It’s an incredibly privileged position in which to view life.
MS: What made you want to be a photographer? Do you like it, being a photographer? Is there a particular goal you have in mind when you do the work? Do you think you’ll ever do something else? Have you thought about filmmaking?
MB: I think photography’s ability to speak without having to say a word appealed to me. I got a job at a newspaper near my hometown when I was in high school. Photography with a public role, it wasn’t just about self-expression — it was about history and recording what’s going on and informing people. So bringing those two things together is really what has shaped me as a photographer. Recording history, not blandly but with feeling, and getting others to see it and feel it too.
MS: Historically speaking, what would you like to have happen with your work?
MB: Now that’s a different sort of history, and I think that’s really hard for photographers to know. I think there are some photographers who make their work with that in mind, with an eye towards how things will age and so on, but that’s not for me. I want my work to speak now, and if people in the future find it still relevant, that’s great, but I can’t make my work with that in mind.
MS: I think when someone joins Magnum, it’s sort of like a star is born, but in fact, many people have been working for years going unnoticed until the Magnum spotlight shines a light on them and their work. When I first met you, I didn’t know about your work, and when I saw it I was bowled over, just swept away by the depth and beauty and depth of emotion. Here is a two-part question: Do you feel like you worked in a bit of obscurity before Magnum? What has life been like now that you are in Magnum, or has it made any palpable difference?
MB: I can’t really speak to that because it is asking me to take a perspective on my own work that I just don’t have. I’ve never been one to pay much attention beyond what I am working on at the moment; I do things because that’s what I want to photograph. If that meant I had to do it on my own, it never really mattered to me. Having that freedom is still what I value most. That’s what makes this work worth doing. I am really only interested in my pictures and what I am going to do next. What I am going to photograph tomorrow is still the most important thing. ■
Matt Black has traveled over 100,000 miles across 46 U.S. states for his project “Geography of Poverty.” Other recent works include “The Dry Land,” about the impact of drought on California’s agricultural communities, and “Monster in the Mountains,” about the disappearance of 43 students in the southern Mexican state of Guerrero. Both of these projects, accompanied by short films, were published by The New Yorker. He received the W. Eugene Smith Award in 2015. In 2016, he received the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award. In 2018, he again received a Robert F. Kennedy Award for his work in Puerto Rico. His work has also been honored by the Magnum Foundation Emergency Fund, the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, the Center for Cultural Innovation and others. He is an associate member of Magnum Photos.
Maggie Steber has worked in 66 countries focusing on humanitarian, cultural, and social stories. Her honors include the Leica Medal of Excellence, World Press Photo Foundation, the Overseas Press Club, Pictures of the Year
International, the Medal of Honor for Distinguished Service to Journalism from the University of Missouri, the Alicia Patterson and Ernst Haas Grants, and a Knight Foundation grant for the New American Newspaper project.
