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| Joe Sullivan. Paia Maui, HI. 2010 |
While I photograph weddings as part of the work I do as a photographer and I consider it meaningful subject matter, there is just something about photographing people in their place that inspires me. Every place has its people. And by people I don't mean tourists and the commuters and other transitional types that come and go like birds with seasons. I mean the people you come to identify with that place in particular. When growing up in Oroville it was a man who wore jeans and a wife beater and could be seen all over the town at various points of the day. Sometimes he'd wind up 10 miles away from the first time you saw him that morning. Because of his ability to traverse vast expanses of the city, we nicknamed him "The Wanderer." It wasn't until years later that one of my buddies actually stopped and asked him his name. "Ken," the man replied. He told Stewart that the reason he walked was because he was a Vietnam veteran and the meds he took to still his demons gave him great anxiety and caused him to tremble. The only thing that helped with the shaking was vigorous exercise. In Kelso, Washington where I lived for a short while when I returned home from Italy, it was "Belly Button Betty." Her name came from a half shirt she was fond of wearing and her belly button was on full display. I always wondered about her story and why she chose to walk around town. I never stopped to ask. This blog will represent these people's stories and give voices and background to all those people that become familiar to a town but remain anonymous.
Joe Sullivan is a man of few words. His message and dedication is obvious from his portrait. I was on my way for a second attempt to eat at Mamas in Maui. This restaurant is amazing. The fisherman's names who caught the fish presented on the menu are listed by the fish - much like an artist gets credit for his work of art with a signature. And indeed the dishes are works of art. http://www.mamasfishhouse.com/ It was raining, like it does sporadically on the island, and I saw a small figure walking alongside the road. As I got closer, he blew a kiss at me and bowed his head. I turned the car off and walked out into the rain. Joe stood no more than 5'2" and was barefoot. "What are you doing out in this rain?" I asked him. "Do you need a ride?" He simply shook his head and as a car passed on the road behind us, blew a kiss. The motorist honked.
He told me his name was Joe. Joe Sullivan. And he had been called to proclaim his faith in Christ. He wore the shirt seen in his portrait everywhere he went. It was last year that he was inspired to carry the cross as well. Joe was born in Paia and has never been out of the small town except for a brief stint in the U.S. Army. He served from 1963-1966 and all he would reveal about his enlistment was, "I was a damned good boxer." So damned good that he continued boxing from 1966-1972 until he settled down with his wife and raised three girls. Joe lives with the oldest daughter but told me that all three had been born again and were serving the Lord. A running dialog is part of the way I photograph my clients. While setting up a light and getting my composition where I want it, I usually make small talk. It helps put strangers at ease. And it helps me understand more who they are. I usually ask so many questions it doesn't give them a chance to question what I'm doing or get spooked.
I finished my portrait and was packing my flash away when Joe looked at me and asked, "How do you serve the Lord Aaron." I thought about it for a minute or two as his shiny eyes stared into mine. Time slowed down for a moment while I reflected. I could see the drops dripping from his steel locks onto his shirt. There were no cars to break the silence. "I'm not really sure Joe." He winked at me and turned to go. I asked him if he needed any money or would like a ride. The rain continued to pour down in large drops. "Thank you Aaron. But I have everything I need." He twiddled his cross, slung it over his shoulder and walked off. Mud sucking his bare feet as he walked.
