
There
is no other way to put it. Ralph Baker, street photographer, is simply
not your average kind of guy. He lives in what he calls his "spaceship,"
a green-housed, alternative, post-apocalypticish living space wedged
snugly between two Williamsburg residential/commercial buildings.
Ladders connect "floors" together. There's the gadget filled "engine
room" in the basement, his winter-proofed, multi-down-comforter-laced
bedroom, and a cozy combination living room/kitchen area that tops the
three-story iron-grated assemblage. Con-Ed supplies his gas and Verizon
supplies his phone service.
I have known Ralph for five years now. We lived in the same building
back in 2000/2001 and he would often wander by my loft - a loft he
helped build - and show me with obvious relish his new digital cameras,
his state of the art portable printers and - squinting through thick
lensed glasses - the fruits of his trade, 8 x 11 or 5 x 7 pictures of
nostalgically-frozen smiling tourists at Rockefeller Center or Times
Square.
But it's a bit strange these days to talk to Ralph. He won't meet
your gaze, even as he'll meet your mind, and he alternates, as he always
did, between smart-assed, but good natured, cynicism and almost
delusionally optimistic idealism. Always ready with a smile, possessed
of an almost zen-like placidity, one might be forgiven for thinking
Ralph crazy.
Afterall, at least until recently, Ralph has continued to
ply his street photography trade although the NYPD has arrested him, by
his own estimation, in excess of 100 times since 1966.
Afterall,
five years subsequent to our first meeting, this photographer's glasses
are put aside. He doesn't need them anymore. The first time he'll know
what I have written about him will be tomorrow or the day after when
somebody reads it to him. Because,
afterall, Ralph is now
almost completely blind and insane enough, through pride, hope,
optimism, idealism or self-love - choose any or all of the above - to
think he can still live his life like a man who sees.
You're a street photographer, but you're legally blind...
Yeah, that doesn't make a difference though. My camera can see.
How do you know when you've taken a good shot or not?
Well, I only go places where there's a good picture. A person is only
part of a picture. The picture is a location or an activity. The picture
is a spot.
The pictures that you take, do your subjects know the picture is being taken by someone who can't see them?
No. Few people find out that I don't see them.
How do you get that one over?
I ask them to stand at the line [on the ground] and smile. Then I press the button and print. Then I collect the twenty.
And they seem to like the pictures?
I only do special photos, commemorative photos of locations times and events. The desire for the photo is already there.
What's your history with photography?
When I was little my mother gave me a polaroid camera and the film cost
money so I had to sell pictures to get money to buy more film. And I
did. And since then I've been doing pictures, pictures for money all
over the country, especially in New York, of historical or what I see as
important events.
Such as?
Million Man March. That was a fun one. The Million Woman March was also
fun. Street parties are fun. Some parades. St. Patties day parade is
great. Thanksgiving Day parade is good too. Fourth of July...
How did losing your sight impact your livelihood?
I messed up a few pictures. When I first went blind, I couldn't tell I
was blind, but I wasn't getting the full picture. I'd cut off a person
and then I'd be like, "Oh, I didn't see them." So I switched eyes
because one eye, it was gone. I could find stuff but I couldn't identify
anything.
What's the problem?
My retina is dying. A kind of glaucoma. Actually two types combined, so I have almost no sight.
What do you see?
I see patches of light. Movements kind of. Shadows not so much. The
value is light. Light to dark. The lighter it is, the better I see it,
the darker it is and it, well, it doesn't really matter as much.
What do you see of me right now?
Of you? Your [silver] tape recorder. In your hand on your knee.
Do you see my face at all?
No. I barely see the recorder. I can see it because it's a brighter
object. I have what's called scanner vision. If you can scan it, you can
see it.
[Interviewer holds hand four inches from Ralph's face]
Can you see my hand?
No.
So, how can you take pictures? I'm not sure I get this...
Well [speading hands out wide]. My camera sees from here to here. It
sees in 180 [degrees]. And I only think in a 45. So everything in the 45
fits into 180.
You haven't been taking pictures for about a year. Why is that? Your failing sight?
The New York City Police Department has classified me, or actually my
activities on the street... they have a new classification called
"terrorist". It means you're subject to having the Federal Marshalls and
the CIA come to your house and all those such things, as well as hold
you for questioning for hours on end. After being subject to that kind
of treatment as a possible something...
You've been arrested as a possible terrorist?
I've been detained to be questioned by the CIA for about six hours at
City Hall - it was actually before 9/11. I've been detained in the
subway station and questioned by people that are called to question
people like me. And then I was arrested in a violent manner, my
shoulders were injured, and I was treated as if I were being violent and
the next thing is not to do it. So I'm not doing it.
Because you don't want to or because you feel that you can't?
I'm compelled to take pictures as a photographer, so it's not a want.
It's a restraint. I don't deserve the kind of violence that the police
department has been delivering.
How long have you been doing street photography?
Since 1966.
And about how many times would you say you've been arrested?
Oh, it's over a hundred. There are different types of arrest. There are
documented arrests. That's 100 Centre Street. Then there are ticketed
arrests, which is 346 Broadway. And then there are apprehended and held
until you see the judge arrests, which is community court at some street
and 54th street. And then there are the times they pick you up and
bring you to God's country and drop you off without giving you a ticket.
Or they'll take your property and you can go find your receipt for it
at the precinct. If you combine all of those, then it's actually well
over 100 times I've been arrested since 1966. There's a year or two
every now and then when I don't get arrested because I lay around and do
nothing.
I understand you've fought this in court. Have you received any judgements in your favor?
No, not the City. They gave me a few dollars once and told me to hire a lawyer.
But the Federal Court, about five years ago, ruled that I cannot be
treated as an unlicensed general vendor, that I have to be treated at
least like an artist. And to treat me like an unlicensed general vendor
was unlawful, unenforceable and unconstitutional. However, the judge
stopped short of condemning the City and gave them an alternative that
was to leave me alone and treat me like a vendor.
What effect did that have?
None. Less than none.
Things didn't get better even for a while?
No, They got absolutely worse. I got arrested on sight. More than
before. But [laughing] they'd call me by name now and arrest me.
So, wait, let me get this right, they know you by name,
you've been doing this for thirty years and they are holding you as a
potential terrorist?
Well, it's police policy treatment. Everyone is treated the same and the
new level of treatment is that everybody's under suspicion. And I do
walk around with the camera and I do walk around with a bag or a box
or...
So even though they know you by name and you've been doing this for thirty years...
Well the new guys don't know me, and they're the ones that knock me to
the ground and put a gun to me and are like "Get him! Get him! Get
him!". The old guys just kind of laugh at it.
The old cops?
Right.
Do you have any friends out there. You know, cops who say, "Gee, Ralph I'm sorry this is happening to you."?
I think most of them are dead now. I'm almost 60.
Ralph, I have to ask you. Do you think race has played a role in any of this?
I don't know. No, I don't think so. I would have to say no. This is a very special thing. Just mine.
In the last year you've been at both Bellevue and Rikers Island. Would you be willing to talk about that?
Bellevue is a nice place. I had a doctor, two social workers and a nurse.
How did you end up there?
Well, on my record it says mentally insane or criminally insane. It says
something about that. From my initial investigations with the police,
it says something about that I am dangerous to the public.
How so? What are they basing this on?
It's just based on the record.
Have you ever hurt anyone?
I've never been involved in any violent acts at all. On record or off record.
But you are deemed to be a violent person.
Violent and crazy, yes.
What do you attribute that to?
The policy of the police department is to exaggerate charges so that
something sticks and the policy of the justice system is to negotiate.
And because of that the police come up with as many charges as they can
come up with.
How did you end up at Bellevue?
I was supposed to be sent to the hospital and they locked me up in jail.
So then they saw on the record that I was a crazy individual, so then
they sent me to Bellevue. I was there about 30 days. They deemed that I
was safe to the public and not a danger to myself. And that I was
impossible to medicate.
Why?
Because I refused to participate. I didn't feel it was necessary.
What were they trying to fix?
Paranoid schizophrenic. Bipolar. Grandiose complex and some other stuff.
Do you see these things in yourself?
I have been in contact with all these things, but I've never categorized
myself that way. But all of these chemical imbalances have been
attributed to some of the greatest people alive, so I don't understand
any need for medication.
Did they know that you're blind?
They found out.
Do you think that might contribute to the perception that
you're crazy? I mean, you look at people and you don't see them. But
they don't know that. So that could lead to...
Well, if you're a policeman and you're coming up to bother me, well, you shouldn't be coming up to bother me in the first place.
Okay Ralph, but if you don't make eye contact and I'm a
police officer, and I don't know that you're blind, I'm going to judge
that in a different way than if I do know.
Good, but your first judgement should have been to leave me alone and your second judgement should have been to get me help.
How did you end up on Rikers Island
After Bellevue transferred me, then the court case couldn't be settled,
and the sentence was time served, but I wouldn't plead guilty.
What was the charge?
Attempted menacing.
Now what were you doing that they were calling menacing?
Same as usual. Nothing. I was pointed out by McCarren Park, walking down
the street and next thing I hear is somebody scream "My kids! My kids!"
and four or five cops jumped me.
Why do you think you were perceived as a menace?
The whole thing happened so fast. I never got to ask anybody.
By Raphie Frank in Arts & Entertainment on September 10, 2005 2:45 AM
http://gothamist.com/2005/09/10/ralph_baker_refusing_to_be_blind_photographer.php