San Francisco photographer captures the lives of people in the Tenderloin neighborhood

Sometimes, the simplest gestures are the ones that go the longest way. In Harry Williams' case? That gesture comes in the form of a photo.

"The people who let me photograph them, I feel like they want to be seen," he said.

Williams regularly walks through the Tenderloin neighborhood in San Francisco to take impromptu portraits of people who live there, hoping to capture beauty, joy, laughter, and moments of humanity that are often unseen and neglected.

"I'm just documenting the community and showing another side of the Tenderloin that is often misinterpreted," he said.

He prints the portraits, and then goes back into the community to find his subjects and hand-delivers them a physical copy. He doesn't charge anything or ask for anything in return.

It's a simple acknowledgment of their humanity, as much of society has broad-brushed them as lost.

"A person will break down and cry, and they'll say, ' Wow, you recognized me or saw me when I didn't even see myself,'" Williams said.

The gesture speaks volumes, says Tone Malone, who Williams met on the corner of Jones and Ellis streets.

"You come through a neighborhood like this, and you see all the flaws – and then you've got somebody who can bring the beauty out of these flaws that we're going through out here," he said. "He's doing a lot of making people feel so good and great about themselves."

Malone says the neighborhood has its issues, but there is much more there than meets the eye.

"This block alone – Ellis and Jones – is a very family block. I mean there are others that feel different, but," he said.

There is a trust Williams has built up from several years of doing this work. People like Victoria Cosey have opened up and are unafraid to share moments of vulnerability with Williams.

"I look at these photos, and I remember where I come from and where I'm at," she said. "Even though I don't like everything I see, I'm glad to be where I'm at and where I be."

Williams has developed real bonds with many of the people he photographs. Some of them have taken him up into their SRO's to get a glimpse of their lives, and to show him what they've put up on their walls.

"They'll have my one photo this size pasted – and it's the only thing on the wall. They'll be so proud of it and be like, 'look, look, look, I put it right in the center,'" he said. "Some of them, when I hand them their photo, there's been instances where people just start to cry. They're like, thank you for capturing me like this, without being passed out. Thank you for making me look beautiful."

He doesn't pretend like hardship isn't a part of the Tenderloin's story, too, however. On our walk, we heard sirens and a person frantically asking around if anyone had Narcan, because someone had overdosed nearby.

"This is like a harsh reality of this area," Williams said. "I want to know if it is somebody that I know."

Sometimes, he can't find the people he photographs again.

"There have been so many people I've photographed that have died," he said. "It's pretty sad."

He says multiple realities can and do exist at the same time. When you look at life here through his lens, people will see the full spectrum of the neighborhood. Yes, that includes hardship, but also, there's joy, beauty, and warmth.

"It is part of the story of here," he said.

Simple moments of humanity, etched into memory and preserved in a photo taken by a man hoping others can see the beauty he sees.