Meet The Clarks
“Meet the Clarks”
Story and photographs by Nicole Martin- 2004
I first met Peter Clark in the fall of 2000 in the low income Hispanic community of Columbia Heights, Washington D.C. At the time, I was working at a neighborhood Youth Center teaching photography to teenagers. Usually after work I would walk around the neighborhood in search of subjects to photograph. After the recent string of hit and run accidents, Peter felt it was his duty to help his community. So there he was, standing on the corner helping the crossing guard navigate children across the street.
“Hey, you work at the Youth Center don’t you?” he asked me as I walked towards him.
“Yeah, I teach photography.” I happily replied.
Peter was short at about 5’2 wearing green pants, a tan leather vest, and an oversized black leather jacket. It was unusually warm for this October day. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and went to shake my hand.
“Hi, I’m Peter. I live in the Trinity Towers building right there.” He said to me as he pointed in the direction of a city run apartment complex.
We stumbled into a pleasant conversation about the neighborhood. Peter had very specific views about local politics and urban gentrification, which stemmed from the years he had spent living in the area. After a while, he invited me up to his apartment to meet his wife and loving companion, Judy.
Judy and Peter can best be classified as “compulsive collectors” or “hoarders.” This is a term that doctors use to describe people who excessively acquire items that they do not need, but are highly valued or nostalgic to the individual. If you ask Peter why they have so much stuff, he will tell you it is because, “It was free.” Or, because, “Someone threw out a perfectly good stuffed animal.” He will never tell you that they have a problem; Compulsion is not in his vocabulary.
Getting into their apartment was, and still is, a difficult task. Judy suffers from adult diabetes and as a result, has had many of her toes removed. This problem is compounded by the fact that she is overweight and often times unable to walk without the assistance of a wheelchair. In keeping with her disorder, she has as many as three wheelchairs at a time in the small foyer of their apartment. The first time I was invited into their 800 square foot, one bedroom apartment, I was overwhelmed by the amount of things they owned. I was struck by the colorful array of children’s dolls and stuffed animals, piles of electronic equipment, old cameras, bicycles, clothing, and art supplies. I have never seen anything like it; possessions stacked from floor to ceiling. I was under the impression that they just owned too much for the amount of space they were allotted, but soon I found out that it went much deeper than that. For the next four years, I observed while our friendship grew almost as fast as their collection did.
Whether or not I care that they have some sort of psychological problem doesn’t matter. This is a story about the lives of two people; two people that in the eyes of society might not be “normal,” or even “sane.” Though they both have many friends and even people that advocate on their behalf, there will always be those that do not understand them. They have been called various names by their “community,” and even attacked, but one thing remains; the respect and love that they share for each other.
Peter and Judy, his senior by fourteen years, were both born in Connecticut, where they met in 1982 and were married a year later. They met while working for the local carnival as traveling amusement ride operators. Peter remains convinced that mobsters were running the carnival and that the proceeds went to organized crime. He goes on to claim that the carnival owner was planning to break the ride he operated in order to frame him as part of this criminal conspiracy, and that he and Judy quit before this was able to happen.
Judy is special in that she comes from a family of twins. She is a twin, as is her older brother. Judy has also given birth to four sets of twins; three sets from previous relationships and one set with Peter. She remembers giving birth to one set in a Connecticut mental institution, but never getting to see or hold them because of heavy sedation. Peter had two children of his own before he met Judy. Over the years, all of their children were taken from them, in pairs, by the State of Connecticut.
They moved to Washington D.C., two years later in a failed attempt to find a cousin they thought lived in Georgetown. Not having any family to speak of, they temporally stayed in separate shelters. After four months, they found the Community for Creative Non Violence, a shelter that would let them remain together. They lived there until 1988, working as security guards at RFK Stadium. After searching for their own home and realizing that they could not afford much, they found a Public Defender and were placed on Section 8. They were moved to the Trinity Tower apartment building in a terrible section of Columbia Heights with their rent starting at $59 dollars a month. Judy and Peter have continued to reside in the same building for the last 15 years.
Columbia Heights has been a transitional neighborhood since current Mayor, Anthony Williams has started to gentrify the area. This process can best be described as the removal of the poor to make room for the less poor. Families are usually told their building is going to be renovated, and that they will be displaced for a few months. These families are sent to run down buildings in neighboring parts of Maryland. The tenants return to find that their cost of living has increased and that they can no longer afford to live there. Judy and Peter continue to fight for the apartment they call home and hope that the $99 dollars they pay a month for rent will not be increased.
Peter is a storyteller who is extremely vocal while acting out his tales about his friends, his neighborhood, and his past. Gang violence has become a regular occurrence in their neighborhood and a staple in their lives. Once, while the two were walking home after a day of shopping they encountered a woman they knew engaged in an argument with her boyfriend. Before either of them could walk any farther, gunshots went off and the man ran away. Judy and Peter watched their neighborhood friend lay there dying as police sirens screamed from around the corner. Later they heard that the victim may have given her boyfriend AIDS and that he had shot her in anger. Judy, visually upset upon hearing this again, says she will never be able to empty her mind of these memories.
The couple solely depends upon Judy’s monthly social security check for $552 dollars. During a typical month after she receives her check, Judy pays their medicine bill at the local pharmacy, and struggles to find a way to survive on what’s left. Judy has a large collection of drawings and paintings and spends a large amount of her spare time concentrating on her artwork. Her goal is to eventually go to art school or to work for a newspaper where she can write truthful stories uncovering the seedy underbelly of life in her neighborhood.
Peter does most of the cooking and cleaning because it is grueling for Judy to move around the apartment. He also does the grocery shopping, which entails waiting in line at many local churches or shelters for donated food. Food seems to be another thing that they collect. There is never a lack of food in their home.
“You can’t put a sandwich down for one minute in this apartment,” Judy said. “The cockroaches are bad all over this building, they have been breeding for years.”
Though he has continued to look for work, Peter has not held a steady job since the 90’s. He has trouble getting interviews because he lacks a high school diploma. “I went into a near by liquor store and asked if they were hiring. The man told me that they were only hiring minorities. I don’t understand that. I am a minority in this neighborhood.”
In a neighborhood where the majority is Latino and African American, Peter and Judy truly stick out like a sore thumb. They recently came home to find “White Motherfuckers Die, or R.I.P.” scribbled on their front door with lipstick. This frightened Peter into calling the police, who took note of the incident, but have yet to call him regarding it.
“The neighborhood is only as bad as you make it out to be,” Peter once said to me. “I have been mugged and beaten up numerous times. I am lucky to still be alive.”
I have seen the neighborhood transform around Peter and Judy, but it doesn’t seem to affect them. They continue to be content living their lives at an easy pace, never regretting for one minute the path that brought them to where they are now. They continue to collect; taking meticulous daily walks around the neighborhood alleys in search of new treasure. Peter plans to get his GED so he can find work and allow them move into a larger apartment. Judy has high hopes of going to art school and making her own line of “sock dolls.” Peter says that the two most important things to him are, “finding out who I really am, and helping Judy find her children.” Peter and Judy have faced a relentless wave of hardship and stood strong by their lifestyle, which brings them so much joy. Every day that the two are free to collect more items for their apartment is a victory. Albeit a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Putting all shock and utter fascination aside, Judy and Peter have more too offer than meets the eye. For some of my close friends, their story carries no message but instead projects an image that of a “circus side show act” At first glance, their life style is so shocking, that the overwhelming photographs are enough to satisfy the urge for entertainment. Regardless of shock value, there is a definite message and a concrete lesson that I have learned from knowing them. I feel I have been extremely fortunate to have befriended them, though at the time if I had been just a little more sheltered, I may have passed them by completely. For some people it may be hard to understand that which is not within one’s realm.
They have absolutely nothing as seen with an ordinary eye, but look closer and you might see what I see. Judy and Peter do not own expensive material items nor do they have the money to live life the way American families are portrayed by our society. Money comes and money goes, but one thing remains; the love and devotion they share for each other. They will always have each other and will concede that they do not need anything else. Over the four years I have spent with Judy, Peter and their close neighborhood friends I feel I have changed the pre conceived notions I used to associate with people and or things I did not understand.
Judy and Peter are no longer just subjects I choose to photograph, but instead have become close friends of mine. Their compelling story may have been the ultimate factor for me even walking through their front door, but I have realized that they mean a lot more to me than photographs on paper. Sometimes I catch myself complaining about something petty, for instance, being out of bottled water. I stop and realize that in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter. As cliché as it sounds, it is true. Visually Judy and Peter live amongst clutter and disorder; in a way it has helped me to simplify my own life. I have come to realize that there is a lot of crap in this world that I do not need. It doesn’t matter if my shoes cost five dollars or 500 dollars. I am no better than the next person and I will continue to live my life being content with who I am instead of who I should be. Judy and Peter have truly helped me to see through the bullshit.
Story and photographs by Nicole Martin- 2004
I first met Peter Clark in the fall of 2000 in the low income Hispanic community of Columbia Heights, Washington D.C. At the time, I was working at a neighborhood Youth Center teaching photography to teenagers. Usually after work I would walk around the neighborhood in search of subjects to photograph. After the recent string of hit and run accidents, Peter felt it was his duty to help his community. So there he was, standing on the corner helping the crossing guard navigate children across the street.
“Hey, you work at the Youth Center don’t you?” he asked me as I walked towards him.
“Yeah, I teach photography.” I happily replied.
Peter was short at about 5’2 wearing green pants, a tan leather vest, and an oversized black leather jacket. It was unusually warm for this October day. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and went to shake my hand.
“Hi, I’m Peter. I live in the Trinity Towers building right there.” He said to me as he pointed in the direction of a city run apartment complex.
We stumbled into a pleasant conversation about the neighborhood. Peter had very specific views about local politics and urban gentrification, which stemmed from the years he had spent living in the area. After a while, he invited me up to his apartment to meet his wife and loving companion, Judy.
Judy and Peter can best be classified as “compulsive collectors” or “hoarders.” This is a term that doctors use to describe people who excessively acquire items that they do not need, but are highly valued or nostalgic to the individual. If you ask Peter why they have so much stuff, he will tell you it is because, “It was free.” Or, because, “Someone threw out a perfectly good stuffed animal.” He will never tell you that they have a problem; Compulsion is not in his vocabulary.
Getting into their apartment was, and still is, a difficult task. Judy suffers from adult diabetes and as a result, has had many of her toes removed. This problem is compounded by the fact that she is overweight and often times unable to walk without the assistance of a wheelchair. In keeping with her disorder, she has as many as three wheelchairs at a time in the small foyer of their apartment. The first time I was invited into their 800 square foot, one bedroom apartment, I was overwhelmed by the amount of things they owned. I was struck by the colorful array of children’s dolls and stuffed animals, piles of electronic equipment, old cameras, bicycles, clothing, and art supplies. I have never seen anything like it; possessions stacked from floor to ceiling. I was under the impression that they just owned too much for the amount of space they were allotted, but soon I found out that it went much deeper than that. For the next four years, I observed while our friendship grew almost as fast as their collection did.
Whether or not I care that they have some sort of psychological problem doesn’t matter. This is a story about the lives of two people; two people that in the eyes of society might not be “normal,” or even “sane.” Though they both have many friends and even people that advocate on their behalf, there will always be those that do not understand them. They have been called various names by their “community,” and even attacked, but one thing remains; the respect and love that they share for each other.
Peter and Judy, his senior by fourteen years, were both born in Connecticut, where they met in 1982 and were married a year later. They met while working for the local carnival as traveling amusement ride operators. Peter remains convinced that mobsters were running the carnival and that the proceeds went to organized crime. He goes on to claim that the carnival owner was planning to break the ride he operated in order to frame him as part of this criminal conspiracy, and that he and Judy quit before this was able to happen.
Judy is special in that she comes from a family of twins. She is a twin, as is her older brother. Judy has also given birth to four sets of twins; three sets from previous relationships and one set with Peter. She remembers giving birth to one set in a Connecticut mental institution, but never getting to see or hold them because of heavy sedation. Peter had two children of his own before he met Judy. Over the years, all of their children were taken from them, in pairs, by the State of Connecticut.
They moved to Washington D.C., two years later in a failed attempt to find a cousin they thought lived in Georgetown. Not having any family to speak of, they temporally stayed in separate shelters. After four months, they found the Community for Creative Non Violence, a shelter that would let them remain together. They lived there until 1988, working as security guards at RFK Stadium. After searching for their own home and realizing that they could not afford much, they found a Public Defender and were placed on Section 8. They were moved to the Trinity Tower apartment building in a terrible section of Columbia Heights with their rent starting at $59 dollars a month. Judy and Peter have continued to reside in the same building for the last 15 years.
Columbia Heights has been a transitional neighborhood since current Mayor, Anthony Williams has started to gentrify the area. This process can best be described as the removal of the poor to make room for the less poor. Families are usually told their building is going to be renovated, and that they will be displaced for a few months. These families are sent to run down buildings in neighboring parts of Maryland. The tenants return to find that their cost of living has increased and that they can no longer afford to live there. Judy and Peter continue to fight for the apartment they call home and hope that the $99 dollars they pay a month for rent will not be increased.
Peter is a storyteller who is extremely vocal while acting out his tales about his friends, his neighborhood, and his past. Gang violence has become a regular occurrence in their neighborhood and a staple in their lives. Once, while the two were walking home after a day of shopping they encountered a woman they knew engaged in an argument with her boyfriend. Before either of them could walk any farther, gunshots went off and the man ran away. Judy and Peter watched their neighborhood friend lay there dying as police sirens screamed from around the corner. Later they heard that the victim may have given her boyfriend AIDS and that he had shot her in anger. Judy, visually upset upon hearing this again, says she will never be able to empty her mind of these memories.
The couple solely depends upon Judy’s monthly social security check for $552 dollars. During a typical month after she receives her check, Judy pays their medicine bill at the local pharmacy, and struggles to find a way to survive on what’s left. Judy has a large collection of drawings and paintings and spends a large amount of her spare time concentrating on her artwork. Her goal is to eventually go to art school or to work for a newspaper where she can write truthful stories uncovering the seedy underbelly of life in her neighborhood.
Peter does most of the cooking and cleaning because it is grueling for Judy to move around the apartment. He also does the grocery shopping, which entails waiting in line at many local churches or shelters for donated food. Food seems to be another thing that they collect. There is never a lack of food in their home.
“You can’t put a sandwich down for one minute in this apartment,” Judy said. “The cockroaches are bad all over this building, they have been breeding for years.”
Though he has continued to look for work, Peter has not held a steady job since the 90’s. He has trouble getting interviews because he lacks a high school diploma. “I went into a near by liquor store and asked if they were hiring. The man told me that they were only hiring minorities. I don’t understand that. I am a minority in this neighborhood.”
In a neighborhood where the majority is Latino and African American, Peter and Judy truly stick out like a sore thumb. They recently came home to find “White Motherfuckers Die, or R.I.P.” scribbled on their front door with lipstick. This frightened Peter into calling the police, who took note of the incident, but have yet to call him regarding it.
“The neighborhood is only as bad as you make it out to be,” Peter once said to me. “I have been mugged and beaten up numerous times. I am lucky to still be alive.”
I have seen the neighborhood transform around Peter and Judy, but it doesn’t seem to affect them. They continue to be content living their lives at an easy pace, never regretting for one minute the path that brought them to where they are now. They continue to collect; taking meticulous daily walks around the neighborhood alleys in search of new treasure. Peter plans to get his GED so he can find work and allow them move into a larger apartment. Judy has high hopes of going to art school and making her own line of “sock dolls.” Peter says that the two most important things to him are, “finding out who I really am, and helping Judy find her children.” Peter and Judy have faced a relentless wave of hardship and stood strong by their lifestyle, which brings them so much joy. Every day that the two are free to collect more items for their apartment is a victory. Albeit a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Putting all shock and utter fascination aside, Judy and Peter have more too offer than meets the eye. For some of my close friends, their story carries no message but instead projects an image that of a “circus side show act” At first glance, their life style is so shocking, that the overwhelming photographs are enough to satisfy the urge for entertainment. Regardless of shock value, there is a definite message and a concrete lesson that I have learned from knowing them. I feel I have been extremely fortunate to have befriended them, though at the time if I had been just a little more sheltered, I may have passed them by completely. For some people it may be hard to understand that which is not within one’s realm.
They have absolutely nothing as seen with an ordinary eye, but look closer and you might see what I see. Judy and Peter do not own expensive material items nor do they have the money to live life the way American families are portrayed by our society. Money comes and money goes, but one thing remains; the love and devotion they share for each other. They will always have each other and will concede that they do not need anything else. Over the four years I have spent with Judy, Peter and their close neighborhood friends I feel I have changed the pre conceived notions I used to associate with people and or things I did not understand.
Judy and Peter are no longer just subjects I choose to photograph, but instead have become close friends of mine. Their compelling story may have been the ultimate factor for me even walking through their front door, but I have realized that they mean a lot more to me than photographs on paper. Sometimes I catch myself complaining about something petty, for instance, being out of bottled water. I stop and realize that in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter. As cliché as it sounds, it is true. Visually Judy and Peter live amongst clutter and disorder; in a way it has helped me to simplify my own life. I have come to realize that there is a lot of crap in this world that I do not need. It doesn’t matter if my shoes cost five dollars or 500 dollars. I am no better than the next person and I will continue to live my life being content with who I am instead of who I should be. Judy and Peter have truly helped me to see through the bullshit.
