Thank you, Patrick. I'm glad that you referenced Sischy's essay, which I hadn't thought about for a long time. I think that there's more to unpack from that essay, in which she criticized Sebastião Salgado for presenting people as more symbols than people, as piggybacking on the natural empathy of readers but not improving upon that original, human impulse. Hams' photograph has evoked empathy--it is particular in a way that makes me terrified for my own children. In fact, I went downstairs to check on them, asleep, not knowing what else to do to assuage the fear sparked by that very specific nightmare. If, as Sischy writes, such a feeling can "make us actually help," I think that Hams strengthens that possibility.
I think so, also, because that image differs from Salgado's in a very crucial respect--Hams can easily be the next dead photojournalist in Gaza. His witness comes at great risk and he's on to the next assignment. It's not sentimental, nor clinical (as Sischy quotes a being evident in Walker Evan's work), but he cares. That message comes through, loudly.
Thank you for this Patrick. This is a crushing time for many photojournalists. I am always amazed by how they are able to do their jobs - always on the line between documenting and experiencing what they see. And the balance of straddling bearing witness with an art form.
It was difficult reading and looking at this particular FOV - as it should be. The moment we can scroll through these images without pause will be red flag for anyone. Between these staggering images and the ones that have come out of the results of the Hamas attack on Israelis on Oct 7, the savagery coming from both sides is palpable.
Smasharts, can you tell us a little more about the article that you linked? Alan Kurdi's death did touch a lot of people, but it also led to the movie referenced in the link. Why do you think the family was so upset? What does that say about empathy, and how best to express it?
An impulsive part of me wishes I didn't open this email with the photos of dead children staring back at me. In response to it, my heart clenched, and I felt deeply sad and fearful. But that is the point, the value, of these images. Despite the immediate despair, I believe that knowing the real consequences of war is something we need. So thank you for sharing and giving me a necessary, useful sadness today. I am always enriched by your perspective.
I appreciate the reference to the Sischy essay. It gave me words to my growing unease about Salgado. At one point I devoured him, mostly because of his ubiquity. His books were everywhere. I really wanted to love the work, but i could not. And i couldn't put words to my criticism. In the end i simply concluded he was too "epic": every photo shoot was a grand stage for his camera. As a result, I stopped thinking about him. Until now, with this essay and its context, I see how he became an industry, a brand, of himself. "Have airline miles, will produce a book (and a Hertzog documentary) of serious intention."
Sischy rightly calls Eugene Smith out on his schmaltz, but Smith spent days and weeks and months and years with his subjects. Side by side with them. Once he left Life and his wife and kids, he lived on the edge for two decades with musicians and junkies and produced produced produced with little acclaim until the Minamata project. It was a life of many bad decisions, but he kept at his vision.
Separate paths for sure. I'd say that Salgado has produced consistently more "quality" than Smith, but for my money, give me the heartfelt immediacy of Smith at his imperfect best over Sslgado any day.
Thank you, Patrick. I'm glad that you referenced Sischy's essay, which I hadn't thought about for a long time. I think that there's more to unpack from that essay, in which she criticized Sebastião Salgado for presenting people as more symbols than people, as piggybacking on the natural empathy of readers but not improving upon that original, human impulse. Hams' photograph has evoked empathy--it is particular in a way that makes me terrified for my own children. In fact, I went downstairs to check on them, asleep, not knowing what else to do to assuage the fear sparked by that very specific nightmare. If, as Sischy writes, such a feeling can "make us actually help," I think that Hams strengthens that possibility.
I think so, also, because that image differs from Salgado's in a very crucial respect--Hams can easily be the next dead photojournalist in Gaza. His witness comes at great risk and he's on to the next assignment. It's not sentimental, nor clinical (as Sischy quotes a being evident in Walker Evan's work), but he cares. That message comes through, loudly.
Thank you for this Patrick. This is a crushing time for many photojournalists. I am always amazed by how they are able to do their jobs - always on the line between documenting and experiencing what they see. And the balance of straddling bearing witness with an art form.
It was difficult reading and looking at this particular FOV - as it should be. The moment we can scroll through these images without pause will be red flag for anyone. Between these staggering images and the ones that have come out of the results of the Hamas attack on Israelis on Oct 7, the savagery coming from both sides is palpable.
I was reminded of how one image of a dead Syrian child from 2015 highlighted the migrant crisis coming out of the Middle East (and yet not so much from Africa) - 2 year old Alan Kurdi brought it hom for most of Canada as he was about to start a new life there - escaping war. (ref: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/family-distraught-over-unauthorized-movie-about-alan-kurdi-1.5143575)
Smasharts, can you tell us a little more about the article that you linked? Alan Kurdi's death did touch a lot of people, but it also led to the movie referenced in the link. Why do you think the family was so upset? What does that say about empathy, and how best to express it?
An impulsive part of me wishes I didn't open this email with the photos of dead children staring back at me. In response to it, my heart clenched, and I felt deeply sad and fearful. But that is the point, the value, of these images. Despite the immediate despair, I believe that knowing the real consequences of war is something we need. So thank you for sharing and giving me a necessary, useful sadness today. I am always enriched by your perspective.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment.
Thank you for the article. A very powerful message indeed and one that should not be ignored
I appreciate the reference to the Sischy essay. It gave me words to my growing unease about Salgado. At one point I devoured him, mostly because of his ubiquity. His books were everywhere. I really wanted to love the work, but i could not. And i couldn't put words to my criticism. In the end i simply concluded he was too "epic": every photo shoot was a grand stage for his camera. As a result, I stopped thinking about him. Until now, with this essay and its context, I see how he became an industry, a brand, of himself. "Have airline miles, will produce a book (and a Hertzog documentary) of serious intention."
Sischy rightly calls Eugene Smith out on his schmaltz, but Smith spent days and weeks and months and years with his subjects. Side by side with them. Once he left Life and his wife and kids, he lived on the edge for two decades with musicians and junkies and produced produced produced with little acclaim until the Minamata project. It was a life of many bad decisions, but he kept at his vision.
Separate paths for sure. I'd say that Salgado has produced consistently more "quality" than Smith, but for my money, give me the heartfelt immediacy of Smith at his imperfect best over Sslgado any day.
Keep up this work Patrick.
Tough, real tough. But important.