2001 Peter Lemieux

Upon graduating from Duke University in 1993, I headed to Latin America for a year-long journey. With a backpack and camera, I explored Latin America from Patagonia's gauchos to Quito's human rights workers to Guatemala's markets. Ever since, my passion for documentary photography and Latin American development have steadily intensified and melded.

In 1994, I established my career in the field of Latin American medical relief and development. I founded Americas Life-Line (ALL) to aid healthcare workers in the Peruvian Amazon and then for three years served as Executive Director of VIDA, a medical relief organization supporting people in need in Latin America. Throughout, I documented the work of VIDA and the communities we served, such as burn victims, lepers and orphans.

Currently, I am a second year MBA student at the Haas School of Business, where I am formalizing my business training and exploring social venture opportunities in the field of documentary photography. My photographic studies at Berkeley's School of Journalism have reunited me with the Latin American spirit, only this time not a thousand miles away, but right here in my own back yard.

Photo Gallery

young, Cuban basketball players

"Playing Ball," Havana, Cuba 1998
Kids in Havana play a unique form of basketball. Their ball is really a volleyball and their hoop is not a metal cylinder, but rather a designated spot on a dilapidated city wall.

Afro-Cuban woman wearing headdress.

"Portrait," Havana, Cuba 1998
An Afro-Cuban Santera, a follower of the Santería religion, wears the typical headdress. She asked me to visit her home and buy some of her antiques.

large mirror reflection of street"View From Corporate Driveway," Cesar Chavez St., San Francisco 2000
View of Cesar Chavez Street as seen through a driveway exit mirror of a large corporation.

Two people on street near a billboard.

"Fugitive," Cesar Chavez St., San Francisco 2000
Migrant workers in the Mission District have fled their native countries and live in the United States illegally, but their daily lives are not nearly as dramatic as television portrays. Police and immigration officials know of their existence and generally turn a blind eye to it. Still, the migrant workers are wary of strangers and mindful of potential problems.

sitting figure with plaid shirt and head scarf"Alex," Cesar Chavez St., San Francisco 2000
Alex, from El Salvador, has training in nursing, massage, painting and construction. Until the rain comes, Alex chooses to live on a bench on Valencia Street and keep a locker for his few belongings. In the winter, he'll move to a shelter.

person leaning against a light pole on a busy city street

"Watching Traffic," Cesar Chavez St., San Francisco 2000
On a typical day, a Latino migrant worker may spend hours watching the oncoming traffic for work.

man walking along a wrought-iron fence

"Dreams," Cesar Chavez St., San Francisco 2000
A Peruvian heroin addict, 40, tries to stay clean and find work on Cesar Chavez Street.

men standing sitting on the street waiting for to be hired

"The Wait," Cesar Chavez Str., San Francisco 2000
Ramiro and others wait.

Project Proposal

Life of the Latino Migrant Worker on Cesar Chavez Street, San Francisco

Latino migrant workers wait for employment each day on Cesar Chavez Street in San Francisco's Mission District. Here, hundreds of males from disparate parts of Central and South America have assembled for a shared reason, to realize their American dream. The American dream they aspire to has little in common with the aspirations of the internet revolutionaries with whom they now share the neighborhood. While the dot.com-crazed visualize stock options and massive wealth creation, the Latino migrants dream of earning enough money to survive, supporting their families back home, and, if they are lucky, returning home as quickly as possible.

In this pursuit, they live on the streets, in shelters or in cramped studio apartments and itinerant hotels. Some travel solo, others with family and friends. They eat "ranchero-style" breakfast in churches or "Cup O'Noodles" on the street. Often, they sit idly on the curb and glance expectantly down the street, hoping some beat-up pick-up with work tools in the back will give them the signal. Some abuse drugs, alcohol or women to pass the time, while others choose less self-destructive activities like feeding the pigeons, listening to the radio or reading the New Testament. But no matter the differences in how these migrant workers go about their lives, the dot.com frenzy - represented on bus and billboard advertisement, in the hip new cafes sprouting up and by trendy 20-something techies darting to and from their offices just blocks away - provides a stark contrast to their reality.

While the plight of rural migrant workers toiling in often extremely harsh conditions has received media attention, much less focus has been paid to the struggle of the urban migrant worker. All across America, these groups of migrants - like the one on Cesar Chavez St. - roof, paint, landscape, construct and reconstruct urban America each day, and do so with no workers' rights, sporadic employment and little gratitude. This project aims to spotlight the difficult existence of one such community and bring into focus the important role urban migrant workers play in sustaining the U.S. economy and its "can't live without" lifestyle.