INTERSECTION

B Y  D A R C Y  P A D I L L A

Corner of Market and Fifth.
She cautiously said yes. When I asked if I could photograph her. I asked her name. “I am ‘Worthless,’” she said. I paused and asked again. “I am ‘Worthless’… not anything to take a picture of.” She went on to say she had been homeless for the last four days. She believed she was kicked out of her SRO because she complained about bed bugs. We talked for a half hour and at the end I asked one last time... “Marlana.”
Allan, 58, had been homeless for the last seven months. “San Francisco is a den of thieves, had everything stolen… Could not leave anything for ten seconds,” he said. “They will steal your dirty socks.”
He said he studied at Julliard, was a professional opera singer, and his life just went in the wrong direction with drugs. He’s homeless and dealing with addiction. He goes by the name of Opera and sings for money in the Metro.
I met Stephanie at Mint Plaza. Slumped in a wheelchair, nose bleeding, slowly pushing her way home from the methadone clinic. “They took my leg on February 18th,” she said, “and my other one has been infected for weeks.” Stephanie found out she had diabetes two-years ago at the clinic. She also has cataracts and silicone breasts that have leaked out. Stephanie has been a transgender for thirty-years.
A man got off the bus, and looked at me and kind of smiled. I asked if I could take his photo, he said yes and stopped. Then he walked away on Market Street.
Patrons pay six dollars for a burger at Pearl’s. The restaurant opened in October 2011 and caters mostly to nearby tech workers. It closed in January 2014 — the location was not profitable.
Eva Pilarski, 91, had left a convalescent home in Sacramento to live in an apartment in San Francisco. She waits for handouts from the Sisters of Notre Dame, who give food to the poor.
“Twitter Bus” picks up workers at Market and Ninth.
A man sleeps on a manhole cover in the middle of the afternoon. One person stopped because they knew him and told me he was a nice guy. She called him “Chop Chop.”
Gary smokes a joint and drinks his twenty-four-ounce Olde English 800 on a Friday night on Market Street. He politely motions the joint my way.
The Ambassadors (community safety program) told Sasha, if you walk yourself to the detox place five or six blocks they’ll probably let you keep your shopping cart. If an ambulance is called, your belongings will be taken. He walked himself.
Vacant store on Market Street.
Tony walks on Market Street and every Friday he wears his brother’s ties. His brother died ten years ago. Tony said, “He was a fancy dresser.”
A man walks slowly through Mint Plaza.

INTERSECTION: SAN FRANCISCO

Photography by Darcy Padilla

For 40-years it has been rotting, Market Street between Fifth and Tenth. Once a theater district of flickering lights and enormous marquees, today half the storefronts are vacant and boarded. A neighborhood of soup kitchens and cheap rooms, home to the most crimes, dilapidated housing, homelessness, drugs, liquor stores, pawn shops, prostitution and strip clubs. It survived Manhattanization, the dot.com boom and bust, and gentrification.

There are over 400 SROs in the neighborhood, protected by the city since the early 80s because of the severe shortage of low-income housing. The last stronghold for residents living on a low or fixed income—working class, seniors, persons with disabilities, and the mentally ill.

Past revitalization efforts failed, in 2011 the city gave tax breaks to tech companies like Twitter to move in. Workers are transported in white luxury coaches during the week, passing advertisements that say: “This Is The Place.”

© Darcy Padilla and Facing Change: Documenting America

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