Andy Fuller | 2017
It’s late in the afternoon, and in between rapid-fire meetings with homies waiting patiently outside the glass wall of his office, G is reflecting on the hundreds of photos on the walls that make his workspace more collage than cubicle.
“Everything is a gift, you know?” he says, speaking of the pictures that often are placed on his walls by someone else. “They’re folks...baptisms...pictures of folks I’ve had to bury.”
G pauses at a photo near the ceiling of a young man in a wheelchair. “Just buried him last week. He was a sweetheart, that kid.”
He points to another of a featherweight fighter with his hands raised. “This guy is a boxer who used to work here. So he put that there.”
The tour continues, stopping at a pencil drawing of his own likeness. G’s face lights up. It is a near-perfect portraiture, with shading expertly applied to show his easy smile and the outline of his white beard.
“This drawing here was done by a guy on death row,” he informs. “I don’t even know him, but I hired his nephew, and he sent his uncle my picture.”
Soon enough the moment of reflection is over and G is about his business, conducting meetings five minutes at a time - one about a job, then a simple “handshake” (in which money moves from his hand to another’s), then a congratulations on completion of a project. The interactions are often short, but the sincerity is never lacking. Most end with a common exchange: