Four black boys stand by a staircase that says "colored"

Photo: Peter Sekaer

The other half

Ever since Jacob Riis photographed the poor of New York in the 1890s, photography has been used for documentary depictions of environments unfamiliar to the average citizen.

Showing how the other half lives

How well should you know the people you are photographing?

Documentary photographers often focus on portraying other and less privileged social groups than those to which they and their audiences belong.

Some spend years with the people they portray, becoming part of their communities. Others use an outsider position to render visible things that may not be clearly seen from the inside.

From photography book to reform

Danish-born Jacob Riis was a social reformist, reporter and photographer who created the 1890 book How the Other Half Lives, one of the first examples of photojournalism. Lit by the harsh light of flashes, Riis captured the darkest, dankest backyards of New York, revealing the miserable living conditions of the city’s poorest residents. The book’s images are infused by a certain sensationalism, yet also reflect a desire to create change. It succeeded in doing so: the book had great political impact and helped prompt reforms and improvements to housing conditions.

Left side is text, the right side is a picture of the poor in a street in New York
Jacob Riis: How the Other Half Lives: Studies among the Tenements of New York, 1890.

Photo: Anders Sune Berg

Peter Sekaer

Peter Sekaer set out from Denmark to the United States in 1918 and became a photographer in the 1930s. He took pictures during the Great Depression, a time when unemployment and poverty were widespread. Among other things, he assisted Walker Evans on several trips around the country. Having arrived in America from a society that was in many ways very different, he had a keen eye for distinctly American traits. This was especially true of racial segregation and the massive discrimination and oppression found in the South.

Untitled, (Mens Room, Atlanta), gelatin silver print, 1936.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Untitled, Charleston, South Carolina, gelatin silver print, 1936.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Untitled, Canton, Mississippi, gelatin silver print, c. 1939.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Untitled, Anniston Alabama, gelatin silver print, 1936.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Untitled, Roanoke, Virginia, gelatin silver print, 1938.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Untitled, Tupelo, Mississippi, gelatin silver print, c. 1937.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Untitled (Hotel Maid, Atlanta), gelatin silver print, 1936.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Untitled, gelatin silver print, 1936-1942.

Photo: Peter Sekaer

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Anders Petersen

For two and a half years, Swedish photographer Anders Petersen regularly visited a bar in the red-light district of Hamburg. Here he took pictures of the regulars, who mostly lived on the outskirts of society and worked locally. He established a close rapport with the clientele, depicting their sense of community, the flirtation, the fights, the fun. You only get something out of your subjects if you give something back, says Anders Petersen, and there is a clear sense of trust and confidentiality in the pictures – even as you might also feel that the characters are being put on show.

Lilly och Rosen. Café Lehmitz, gelatin silver print, 1969.

Photo: Anders Petersen

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Marlene. Café Lehmitz, gelatin silver print, 1969.

Photo: Anders Petersen

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Kleinchen med hamnarbetare (Kleinchen with dock labourers), gelatin silver print, 1969.

Photo: Anders Petersen

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Martin Parr

Martin Parr photographed life on New Brighton beach in Liverpool in the eighties, a time when the British economy was at its lowest ebb. In Parr’s pictures, we see how people from the impoverished working class flock to a run-down beach to enjoy life in each other’s company despite all adversity. Parr’s use of saturated colours and flash photography highlights the litter and decay. Do we sense a certain distance to a lifestyle that the photographer is slightly mocking? Or is this simply a picture of a country in a state of disarray and dissolution?

From the series The Last Resort, 1983-1985. C-type print.

Photo: Martin Parr

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From the series The Last Resort, 1983-1985. C-type print.

Photo: Martin Parr

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Ditte Haarløv Johnsen

Ditte Haarløv Johnsen grew up in Maputo, capital of Mozambique. As a white Dane in the African city she was an outsider, one who got on well with other outsiders. She later returned as a photographer, documenting her circle of acquaintances, friends, family and lovers. Many of Ditte’s friends were homosexuals and transgender people who had been expelled from home and had to make a living from prostitution as well as live with AIDS. With her series, she wanted to express solidarity, vitality and unity.

Spioua in the Parents Place, archival pigment print, 2000.

Photo: Ditte Haarløv Johnsen

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Hotel Vilanculos, archival pigment print, 2009.

Photo: Ditte Haarløv Johnsen

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Liloca Getting Ready for the Night, archival pigment print, 2012.

Photo: Ditte Haarløv Johnsen

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Superman on the roof of the Shopping Mall, archival pigment print, 2009.

Photo: Ditte Haarløv Johnsen

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Balcony Monkey and the Grandmother from Portugal 2000.

Photo: Ditte Haarløv Johnsen

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Nubia Dancing, archival pigment print, 2005.

Photo: Ditte Haarløv Johnsen

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