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‍Thanks for your time. Discovering "Water for the People" on Pinterest was captivating. The motion and culture in every frame seemed so alive, like scenes from a film. 

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"Water for the People" began in my late 20s, a journey of over a decade.

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With your extensive experience, how do you approach immersive projects like "Water for the People?"‍

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I didn't think of projects just tried - early on -  to put myself in situation where I could hopefully make pictures that were as good as the pictures made by the photographers that inspired me like Helen Levitt and Josef Koudelka drama of every day life.

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Moving to Chicago post-grad school led me to Pilsen, a vibrant Mexican-American community. Captivated by this new environment, I spent numerous summers photographing there, striving to capture the community's essence and confronting the challenges of representing a culture different from my own. While tourists flocked to Maine, I found myself driving in the opposite direction, back to the community with hardly any trees and where the only relief during the summer was an open fire hydrant.

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My first picture of working class water that isn’t a beach, came out of being in those neighborhoods every summer being in those neighborhoods for 12 years.

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What fascinates you about water so much?

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Water, fundamental to life and civilization, has always fascinated me. The idea of "working-class water" in places like Maine has particularly intrigued me. And so I kept looking for other iterations of that, even like people jumping off of bridges in Maine. 

I've considered compiling these into a book, but it's on hold for now. Currently, I'm focusing on a project called "Midway".

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If you've seen my book "Bario", you'd know that it's not just about photographs. The second chapter is all about my written reflections from those years in Pilsen. It's filled with personal anecdotes and my attempts to navigate the complexities of representing a community that wasn't my own.

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Do you still incorporate note-taking in your workflow?

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My earlier extensive documentation, including notes and sketches, has diminished over time. Reflecting on my book "Here Still Now", I realize the value of such records in creating a more nuanced body of work.

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How do communities react to your work post-publication?

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This is a critical aspect. While Susan Sontag described photographers as tourists in others' realities, I focus on immersion and building trust within communities for a more genuine portrayal. This process, a blend of interaction and collaboration, often leads to deeper, more meaningful photographs.

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Do people think that without a sophisticated understanding of photography, they can't recognize masterpieces? 

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The great thing about the kind of photography I do is that you don't need a masters degree to understand.  People know a good image when they see it. It's what makes the medium so democratic.

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How do you convince strangers to be your subjects?

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I don't like the term "strangers." When you approach someone, the interaction is the most exhilarating part of my process, apart from the photograph itself. I'm always amazed that nearly 90% of the people I approach agree. They can sense if you have an agenda that is not in their best  interests'. When they see my work they realize it's not what they expected.

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So, there's an unspoken language. You're suggesting people are instinctive. They can feel authenticity and discern right from wrong.

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Absolutely. They might come from different backgrounds or not even speak English. But they understand authenticity. It's surprising because you'd expect people to be vain. Yet, they appreciate authenticity.

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I disagree with the notion that you shouldn't photograph someone unlike yourself. It's a dangerous train of thought for one: what is like yourself? Is it you race, ethnicity, your age, your gender? Do you just photograph your family? where does that end? Where's the line between all of those things and who gets to draw that line?
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Also, how to do we get to learn about the world if we don't look beyond what we know? Because that's how we transcend ideas of difference and erode bias.

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I haven't received much blowback. Occasionally, someone will say something that is just stupid. And it's really not worth paying attention to because it's not exploitative—they certainly don't think so. And what do I gain? I get a $12,000 tax deduction every year. It's not like I'm making a lot of money doing this, which is why I also teach. But I believe we are meant to try and understand each other better.

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Is your recent work primarily in 4x5 format?

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Yes, though I've been revisiting medium format and even including some cell phone photos. What I appreciate about film is that it causes you to work more slowly and deliberately.

The whole world is trying telling you quick and easy is best. But when we think about what is truly great - music, film, art, - the things that really moves us, they all are incredibly difficult to do and take a lot of time.

The best and most admirable work is often the hardest. This holds true for photography. In a world favoring convenience, I advocate for the thoughtful, deliberate process of film photography, valuing quality and effort over ease and speed.

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As we journey through the intricate layers of Paul D'Amato’s work, we're reminded of the power of photography in narrating the stories of our society. The vivid images not only capture the essence of community life but also bring to light the critical issues that often go unseen.

I found myself deeply moved by the raw emotion and the everyday struggles mirrored in each shot. D’Amato’s work challenges us to look beyond our immediate surroundings and understand the deeper currents flowing through our communities.

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web: www.pauldamato.com | instagram: @paul.damato