無(wú)家可歸的時(shí)尚攝影師

It’s rather inconceivable that someone as talented and successful as New York fashion photographer Mark Reay might be homeless. Despite being handsome, well-groomed, and articulate – Mark didn’t actually have a home to go back to, after rubbing shoulders with the who’s who of the fashion world, for six long years.

像紐約時(shí)尚攝影師Mark Reay這樣有才華且成功的人居然會(huì)過(guò)著無(wú)家可歸的日子，這真是令人難以置信。雖然他長(zhǎng)相帥氣、打扮得體且善于表達(dá)，但在時(shí)尚界打拼六年的他之前并沒(méi)有家。

When Mark graduated from the University of Charleston, he obviously had no idea that he’d be homeless for a major chunk of his adult life. In the beginning it was by choice – he backpacked around Europe as a young man and then worked as a model for four years in Brussels – the experience gave him the experience of a new “hand to mouth” kind of lifestyle that would help him immensely later in life.

當(dāng)Mark從美國(guó)查爾斯頓大學(xué)畢業(yè)的時(shí)候，他并不知道自己會(huì)在成年時(shí)過(guò)著無(wú)家可歸的生活。剛開(kāi)始這不過(guò)是他的選擇——年輕的時(shí)候他背著背包在歐洲四處晃，還在布魯塞爾當(dāng)了四年模特。這樣的生活讓他體會(huì)到了吃了上頓沒(méi)下頓的艱辛。

He moved back to New York in the late ’90s to take care of his dying father, and took on a few modelling assignments to keep the cash flowing. He was able to afford a $200 a month apartment in West Chelsea then, but after his father died in 2000, things got tough again. It was getting hard to make a living off modelling, especially since age was no longer on his side, so decided to give fashion photography a go.

90年代末他搬回了紐約照顧他那瀕死的父親，同時(shí)還簽了幾份模特合同賺錢(qián)。那時(shí)他還能負(fù)擔(dān)起切爾西區(qū)兩百美元一個(gè)月的房租，可當(dāng)他的父親在2000年去世后，他的生活又開(kāi)始變得艱難起來(lái)。當(dāng)模特賺來(lái)的錢(qián)基本難以維持他的生計(jì)，尤其是在他青春不再的時(shí)候，于是他決定嘗試時(shí)尚攝影。

“I knew the fashion world, so I’d go to the shows and hang around backstage taking pictures,” he wrote for The Guardian. “People knew me from my modelling and I got a few decent shots. I figured I might have an eye for it and maybe I could make some money from it. It sounds glamorous, but I never got the campaigns. That’s where the money is. I foolishly believed I would make a decent income.”

Mark寫(xiě)道：“我了解時(shí)尚界，于是我去看各種秀并在后臺(tái)拍照。我當(dāng)模特的時(shí)候認(rèn)識(shí)了不少人，因此我拍到了不少好照片。我發(fā)現(xiàn)也許我攝影天分，于是決定靠攝影賺錢(qián)。這聽(tīng)起來(lái)很光彩，但我根本沒(méi)有得到什么廣告活動(dòng)，更別提賺錢(qián)了。我居然愚蠢地認(rèn)為自己能賺不少錢(qián)。”

Things got so bad that soon Mark was living off his savings – he worked as a waiter and sold a few photo stories to websites, but none of it was enough to sustain a New York lifestyle. His first experience of being homeless eventually happened when he travelled to the south of France for a photography project. But like most good ideas the project didn’t produce any results. Worried that he’d outstayed his welcome at his friend’s place, he left for St. Tropez with his camera and laptop, and ended up sleeping in the hills.

很快Mark就要靠著自己的存款度日了。他邊當(dāng)服務(wù)員邊賣(mài)照片給網(wǎng)站，但這些都不足以讓他過(guò)著體面的紐約式生活。他在去法國(guó)南部一個(gè)攝影項(xiàng)目的時(shí)候，面臨著第一次無(wú)家可歸生涯。他參加的那次項(xiàng)目根本沒(méi)什么結(jié)果，憂心自己在朋友那里會(huì)不受歡迎的他，帶著攝像機(jī)和筆記本去了圣特魯佩斯，睡在小山上。

“It wasn’t so bad to start,” Mark wrote. “I would store my laptop and cameras in a duffel bag in a garbage bag and hide it in the bushes. I had a small bedroll with me so I could sleep. I would get up at 6am, go to the park and head to the restaurants that had those outdoor sinks. I’d wash myself down, was my t-shirt or shirt so it could dry in the sun and slick my hair back with water and go sit in a cafe. Because I had a certain look, no one really questioned it. I just looked like a well-off man in shorts and a T-shirt. I had the confidence to just sit there, and I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Mark寫(xiě)道：“剛開(kāi)始的時(shí)候事情并沒(méi)有太糟糕。我把我的筆記本和攝像機(jī)用行李袋裝起來(lái)，并用垃圾袋套上裝在灌木叢里。我睡在自己隨身攜帶的小睡袋里。早晨六點(diǎn)我會(huì)起來(lái)去有露天水槽的公園和餐廳，清理自己并洗衣服，在太陽(yáng)底下晾干衣服后我會(huì)用水把頭發(fā)梳到腦后，再去咖啡廳。由于我外表體面，因此沒(méi)有人質(zhì)疑我。我看上去就像一個(gè)穿著短褲和T恤的富人。我有信心坐在這里，我知道自己并沒(méi)有做錯(cuò)什么事情。”“So began a period of my life sleeping rough,” he wrote, but insisted that it was still a happy time. Although he lived off his dwindling savings, he always made it a point to treat himself to rotisserie chicken at night, along with a chilled rosé – the cheapest one he could find at mini markets. “At night, I would put on a fresh shirt and go to one of the fancy bars with my wine in my bag. Again, maybe because I had a certain look, no one ever checked my bag. I’d just go in, nick a glass off the counter and drink my wine surrounded by millionaires.”

他表示雖然這樣的生活很艱難，但那段時(shí)間里他很開(kāi)心。雖然他靠著自己不斷減少的存款生活，但他晚上還會(huì)拿吃烤雞來(lái)犒勞自己，并買(mǎi)最便宜的玫瑰葡萄酒。他會(huì)將酒裝在包里，走進(jìn)酒吧并從柜臺(tái)上拿杯子，自如地坐在百萬(wàn)富翁中間喝自帶的酒。還是因?yàn)樗獗淼皿w，沒(méi)有人檢查他的包。

Mark wrote that this kind of lifestyle was okay for a while, but when he got tired of it, he moved back to New York again in 2006. He was completely broke, his family was in New Jersey, and he didn’t want to rely on his friends anymore. He moved into a hostel for a night using the money he earned from a backstage shoot, but when he woke up, he was covered in bed-bug bites. That’s when he remembered a friend’s rooftop in the East Village where they used to have cocktails. He snuck into the building and went to the rooftop the next night, and decided to stay there for a few days. And that ended up becoming his home for the next six years.

這樣的生活過(guò)了一段時(shí)間之后，Mark感到厭倦不已，于是2006年的時(shí)候他又重新搬回了紐約。他完全破產(chǎn)了，他的家人住在新澤西，他也不想再麻煩他的朋友。他用后臺(tái)攝影賺來(lái)的錢(qián)在旅館里睡了一晚上，但第二天醒來(lái)他發(fā)現(xiàn)自己身上被蟲(chóng)子咬了。那時(shí)他想起來(lái)一個(gè)朋友曾在紐約東村的屋頂辦過(guò)雞尾酒會(huì)。他溜到那棟建筑里，晚上爬到樓頂睡覺(jué)，這里也成為了他接下來(lái)六年的居所。

“All I had were a few items of clothing and a thrift store blanket,” Mark wrote. “I got a cheap poncho, which I used to cover myself so I couldn’t be seen, and I put up a tarpaulin. It was September and it was manageable. I started to get a bit more work, but not enough to afford rent, so I figured I’d just stay there until I worked something out.” Instead of getting a home, Mark renewed his gym contract – only $70 a month – where he got access to showers, electricity, and a toilet. “I used to wash my clothes there – I had a few shirts, a pair of trousers, and socks – and dry them under the hand dryers.”

Mark寫(xiě)道：“我只有幾件衣服和二手店里淘來(lái)的毯子。我有一個(gè)便宜的雨披，我會(huì)披上它避免自己被人看到，我還會(huì)蓋上油布。那年九月，我得到了更多工作，但還是付不起房租，于是我決定在我賺到足夠的錢(qián)之前都待在這里。”比起租房，Mark選擇去健身房，每個(gè)月僅需70美元就能讓他洗澡、充電和上廁所。他還在健身房洗衣服。

“That was my life. I’d get up, transform myself and go off to shoot these beautiful models at fashion week or on the street. As long as I was clean and fairly well dressed, no one questioned me. I told a few friends, but otherwise no one.”

“這是我的生活，我把自己打理好之后去拍攝時(shí)裝周上美麗的模特。只要我干凈且穿著得體，就不會(huì)有人質(zhì)疑我。”

Mark makes it sound easy, but of course it wasn’t – he had his share of difficult times. he had to let himself into the building carefully, without making any noise, climb several flights of stairs, hop a fence while risking death with a huge drop below, and get under a tarpaulin that served as his home. He would tip over his pee bucket, shivered in the cold, worried that people might discover him, and endured horrible weather. Electric storms were terrifying, so he constantly had to check the weather reports to see what was coming. He kept getting more work, but his assignments earned him about $30,000 a year, which was hardly enough to live on in New York.

雖然Mark這種生活聽(tīng)起來(lái)很輕松就能做到，但實(shí)情并非如此。他要小心翼翼地潛入建筑免得被人看到，他爬到樓頂?shù)臅r(shí)候還會(huì)有生命危險(xiǎn)。他會(huì)踢翻自己的尿桶，在寒風(fēng)中顫抖，擔(dān)憂其他人可能會(huì)看到他并忍受惡劣的天氣。雷暴非?？植溃虼怂刻於紩?huì)看天氣預(yù)報(bào)。他接的工作越來(lái)越多，但3萬(wàn)美元的年薪并不足以供他在紐約生活。

Eventually, things got better to a point where Mark was able to get off the roof last summer. And interestingly, he’s come away from the experience with only positive thoughts. “It sounds peculiar, but you have to remember I’ve always been happy travelling around,” he wrote. “I don’t feel anything but lucky. I chose highly improbably careers; I mean, modelling, acting, and photography – they’re well known for economic uncertainty. But I get that it’s a peculiar situation, and I chose that peculiar situation.”

去年夏天Mark終于擺脫了屋頂生活。他寫(xiě)道：“這聽(tīng)起來(lái)很離奇，不過(guò)你要清楚我一直都樂(lè)意四處旅行。我覺(jué)得自己很幸運(yùn)除此之外別無(wú)其他。我選擇了收入不穩(wěn)定的職業(yè)——模特、表演和攝影。但這是我的選擇。

“I feel invigorated. It’s an odd double life, and I’ve been alone, but I’ve never felt lonely.”

“我覺(jué)得精神煥發(fā)。這是一段古怪的雙重生活，雖然我一直是一個(gè)人，但我并不孤獨(dú)。”

Mark’s remarkable story was covered in a documentary called Homme Less, filmed by his friend and director Thomas Wirthensohn. It “captures a raw and unfiltered moment in time, our time, and raises the question of how far we are from losing everything, even our homes. How often do we have to pretend that everything is fine in order to keep up the facade of being a well-off member of society? And how far do we have to go to take the financial pressure off our shoulders to live a more carefree life, a life we aspire to live?”

Mark的故事被拍成了名為Homme Less的紀(jì)錄片，導(dǎo)演是他的朋友Thomas Wirthensohn。紀(jì)錄片令人們不住地想，我們離失去一切包括我們的家有多遠(yuǎn)?我們?cè)嗌俅渭傺b一切都很好?為了過(guò)上一段更自在的生活，我們又在肩上承擔(dān)了多少經(jīng)濟(jì)壓力?