Opening doors through photography

A toddler in a tutu, caught on film walking toward a window in a dark and dusty room, tells the story.

  The child’s mother works nights, a sex worker. She has three kids. The family has no bed and sleeps on the floor.

  Arleen Thaler takes a photo of the child’s silhouette and posts it to her Instagram account. Offers to help come pouring in—food, clothes, toys, furniture and other life-affirming resources.

  “People in Rochester are abundant. They want to give,” she says. “To have that photo with a few words to captivate people to give, that’s my thing.”

  This is Thaler’s mission: to be a conduit for the stories of people whose voices are rarely heard. With their permission, Thaler uses photography to open doors for communities largely hidden from society. Her hope is that more exposure will bring change.

  “I can say this is my ministry,” she says. “My ultimate goal is to capture the attention of the stake holders, agencies and community members that can offer help and work toward solutions. I am never on a mission to save the world. Some people want to remain where they are at, so if it is just some food, clothes and toiletries, that is a gift in itself.”

  That she steps into hidden worlds is no surprise to those who know her. Thaler grew up in a house full of foster kids. After her parents split up when she was 6, Thaler was raised on Braddock Bay in North Greece by her aunt, Peggy Merkel. Over the years, Merkel has provided foster care to more than 450 children from across the county. There was always room for one more.

  Now 81, Merkel is still at it; Thaler and her husband, Daryl Thaler, and her youngest son, Ethan Oliver, live in the family home, too. Her foster siblings, now grown with families of their own, come by to visit or share the holidays.

  “They are my brothers and sisters,” she says. “I grew up surrounded by these kids.”

  Because of her siblings’ different backgrounds, Thaler can’t understand why people build barriers against folks different from themselves. Life’s challenges cross boundaries imposed by race, ethnicity, geography, culture and financial means, she says; all of it falls away when real connection happens.

  “This is a story that’s always been unfolding in front of me,” Thaler says.

  Thaler has been a teacher and photo artist in residence at Flower City Arts Center, and she is an addiction counselor at Huther-Doyle. In conversation, she is down-to-earth. She listens closely and quietly. When she speaks about the people she’s come to know through her work, the words come tumbling out.

  “I meet someone right where they’re at, so much so that I’m almost walking right in their shoes with them,” she says. “I can hang around with all the homeless people I want, but until I immerse myself right into their world—sleep beside them, break bread with them—until then I consider it a drive-by shooting. … Behind that scene, there’s this whole story.”

  Often her work is heartbreaking. The mother of three sons, Thaler has a soft spot for young men caught up in gang violence, and she counts them as friends. To help illustrate the complexity of their lives, she has photographed them in moments with their children, and she is working on a project that would allow them to tell their own stories through videography.

  Her photos are rich in juxtaposition. Taken after many months of becoming acquainted, they strip away stereotypes to reveal stark realities. A photo of the feet of women huddled in an abandoned garage shed light on sex workers, a virtually invisible population caught in a cycle of abuse, drug addiction and poverty. The image caught the attention of a homeless advocate who within a day was on the streets assessing their needs.

  Thaler is driven by her own experience. Domestic violence, poverty and the death of her infant daughter brought her a soft understanding of people in need.

  “Now I know what’s going through a battered woman’s mind. Now I know what it’s like to have a baby born dead, to have a family member suffering from being addicted,” she says. “So I pay it forward to others who are in need.”

  “I want everything I do to represent the people. I can capture the photo, but it’s not me.”