When Bruce Davidson photographed the civil rights movement, he got so close that Bull Connor's fire hoses left him wet in Birmingham.

The eminent documentary photographer came South for the Freedom Rides in 1961 and stayed through the Selma voting rights march in 1965. Rarely shooting on a journalistic assignment, he often hung around the edges of the movement, photographing the lives and conditions that led to the protests.

St. Ann's Press (ENLARGE)

Bruce Davidson's work included documenting the Selma voting rights march in 1965.

St. Ann's Press (ENLARGE)

During the 1961 Freedom Rides, Bruce Davidson captured this image of riders singing.

ON EXHIBIT Bruce Davidson, Photographs of the civil rights movement and East Harlem. Through July 5. 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesdays-Saturdays. Jackson Fine Art, 3115 E. Shadowlawn Ave., Atlanta. 404-233-3739; www.jacksonfineart.com. LIVING Latest Headlines: [an error occurred while processing this directive] • More Living Stories • Living photo galleries • Georgia Aquarium news and photos • Zoo Atlanta news and photos

Davidson's starkly emotional black-and-white photos will be on view in two Atlanta venues this summer. The High Museum of Art will include some of his images in "Road to Freedom," its survey of civil rights photography opening next month. A one-man show opened last weekend at Jackson Fine Art in Buckhead.

Davidson, a 74-year-old native of Oak Park, Ill., talked about his work and experiences at the gallery.

Q: How did you become interested in civil rights?

A: I had spent a year in 1959 photographing a Brooklyn street gang. I applied for a Guggenheim Fellowship to keep working along those lines, documenting American youth.

Someone suggested I go along with the Freedom Riders, the young people who were challenging segregation on interstate buses. I didn't know much about civil rights at the time. That experience changed my life. You could feel the fear, the tension.

Q: Some of your best civil rights photos don't show protests.

A: They represent the underpinnings of the movement. A dilapidated schoolhouse. Children picking cotton. A sharecropper with 11 children. I like to give the total picture. I guess I stay longer than most photographers do.

Q: You were in Birmingham when Bull Connor's men turned fire hoses on demonstrators. What was that like?

A: Pretty violent. I didn't work with a telephoto lens; I wanted to be close. I was something of a track star in high school, and I could run fast. I'd dart in there and take a shot with my Leica and then dart out before the cops even saw me.

Q: You photographed the Selma-to-Montgomery march in 1965. Viola Liuzzo, a housewife from Detroit, was shot to death as she was driving civil rights workers after that march. You took a remarkable photo of her death car. How did that happen?

A: I went out about 4:30 a.m. to shoot at first light. The car was still there where it had run off the highway. You could see the window blasted out and blood stains dried on the seat. A state trooper saw me and walked up with his hand on his gun and told me to move. I took a picture of him — and then I moved.

Q: You have a photo of a Klansman handing out pamphlets.

A: That's in Atlanta. The NAACP was holding its convention, and the Klan was picketing. They had a cross burning that night. I drove onto the field and took a picture, and then I heard them announce over the loudspeaker that the Volkswagen with New York plates was too close to the flame. I got out of there.

Q: Did you ever feel in danger?

A: Yes. I was in a little town once, and I was watching some black kids hanging out in front of a jukebox. The police grabbed me and took me to the station for questioning.

They said, "Are you an agitator? Are you a communist?" And I told them I was on a fellowship. One of them said, "What's a fellowship?" And then they told me, "You're going to get out of town or we're going to stomp you." That was their word: "stomp."

I got out of town.