​How Tom Sweetland helped the un-housed capture a city unseen

This engaging short documentary by Tom Sweetland is not only a reflection on one man's experience of urban street life but an uplifting tale of the transformative power of photography. 

The director made Unseen City in collaboration with the social enterprise Café Art and the 2024 MYLONDON project, which involved giving disposable film cameras out to 100 people affected by homelessness.

The film follows Wayne, a former chef who was plunged into homelessness because of a mental health breakdown and has found salvation through photography.

How did you become involved in the MYLONDON Project?

I met Paul Ryan [CEO of MYWORLD Creative Projects] from MYLONDON earlier this year when he was selling calendars at the Woolwich Elizabeth line station. I found the project innovative and inspiring – using street photography to empower people experiencing homelessness felt like an impactful way to address an issue I’m passionate about.

Receiving positive feedback can be a meaningful step toward building independence and sustainable change.

Initially, I envisioned creating a multi-character documentary, following three photographers as they captured images around the city. However, with a short film format, this approach would have made it difficult to fully explore each individual's story. So, I decided to focus on Wayne instead, allowing for a deeper, more personal narrative.

How did you come to choose Wayne as the film’s central character?

Wayne is someone who has faced a series of intense challenges but continues to carve his own path forward. His honesty and willingness to speak openly about those struggles drew me to his story.

In some ways what they see and we see are the same, and that’s what connects us.

One of his photographs was selected for the 2023 MYLONDON calendar competition, and since then, his confidence in showcasing his work and sharing his story has grown significantly.

Homeless people's photography can find meaning in spaces we might see as mundane.

Can you expand on how photography has helped Wayne and other people affected by homelessness?

For Wayne and many of the photographers we spoke to, participating in this project provides a safe and supportive space where they can express themselves artistically. It shows them that their voice and perspective are valued, which can help foster self-belief. 

Many who are homeless feel ignored and their invisibility and anonymity, gives them a unique view point.

While it’s difficult to measure, I believe that engaging in creative work and receiving positive feedback can be a meaningful step toward building independence and sustainable change in their lives.

What do you feel homeless/disadvantaged people might see that the rest of us don’t?

In some ways what they see and we see are the same, and that’s what connects us but I feel that many who are homeless feel ignored, and their invisibility and anonymity, gives them a unique view point, they might notice aspects of the city and society that the rest of us overlook—both the beauty and the harsh realities. 

Their perspective allows them to see fleeting moments and social dynamics that others might pass by without a second thought.

Photography [for me] has always been about capturing memories to share, but social platforms often turn these moments into a competition for likes.

They’re attuned to the nuances of survival and resilience, and often find meaning in spaces and interactions that we might dismiss as mundane.

A bird's eye view of life on the streets of London. 

We live in an age of constant amateur visual journaling of experiences, do you think this devalues professional photography? Or has it elevated it as a crucial part of human life?

For me, photography has always been about journaling and capturing memories to share with those I care about. But social platforms often turn these moments into a competition for likes, which I’ve found myself getting caught up in, something that’s likely taken a toll on my mental health. 

Sometimes I miss the days of boring friends and family with printed photo albums.

There’s a constant drive to produce more just to keep up with the algorithms, and with so much content out there, it’s less about devaluing professional work and more about how these pressures make it harder for genuine creativity to shine through. Sometimes I miss the days of boring friends and family with printed photo albums instead.