OK, you’re a documentary photographer. Or maybe you’re like a reportage photographer. You know ― that’s a strange thing, you know, because like some guy is killing a woman in front of you ― and like ― you’re taking a fucking picture of it. You’re not helping a woman save her life ― you’re getting a story.

*

Maybe you’re reach or something… with a secret life that you won’t tell anyone about no matter how lonely they are, or no matter how pretty they are you just won’t tell. Doesn’t matter I’ll guess.
I’ll tell you about yourself.

BW: And what do you think your work does in relation to that hopelessness?

RF: I don’t think or pretend that my life will change that. The fact that I see it and I record it in its own kind of humane way…I mean, I want to record it with some dignity. But then, as photography has turned into a sort of moneymaking affair, it makes me think–more than when I did it–that it’s not right to sell these pictures taken from people much less fortunate and privileged than you. When I did it, I had no such thought, really. I was moved by what I saw. Now it would be very hard to take those pictures. I don’t want to.