Fighting Monsters

“Those who fight monsters should take care that they never become one. For when you stand and look long into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.” ~ Frederich Nietzsche

A therapist friend of mine is on anti-depressants, and I can understand why.  It’s painful enough to find meaning and purpose in a chaotic world that often offers nothing but disillusionment and disappointments.  It’s often worse when you’re the one who others look toward for solace and guidance.  We all have our demons – and, for the most part, we beat them back long enough to breathe.   But there are moments when something as simple as a newspaper article or a picture triggers the emotional landslide and it overwhelms you, trapping you beneath its weight of anguish and despair.   Staving off the jaded demon of cynicism and apathy requires more than what we have equipped.

The connection between creative genius and mental illness has long been debated so there’s not much I can really add to the subject.  Only that, I’m not surprised that artists are a little more “touched” than the rest of the population given the emotional broadband that most creative people have…but I don’t know if it’s necessarily an issue of “insanity” maybe more a sense of degree to which one succumbs to one’s emotional depths.

When it comes to writing, we all hope for happy endings, but the reality is that most of us wallow in the sadness of the world – we identify more with the pain of existence.  I say “we” because I know far too many who struggle with the same issues.  The most dangerous time is when we take up our task and enter our periods of inner solitude where melancholy’s embrace awaits with its dark visions.

Nietzsche cautioned us not be become the monsters that we fight – but it’s so very easy to become disenchanted especially if your job is to chronicle the sufferings of the world.  I’m often reminded of Kevin Carter when I think of that quote.  The Pulitzer photojournalist took his own life after being haunted by the things he chronicled.

Carter's winning photo in 1994 - a starving child collapsed on the ground, while a vulture stalks in the background - haunted by the things he's seen Carter committed suicide in 1994 soon after receiving the award.

Perhaps Nietzsche should have amended his warning: When you stand and look long into the abyss, take care not to fall in.

Moving Beyond Hope

It’s been an interesting week for international news.  First the Bloody Sunday report came out on Tuesday, then Bloomsday on the 16^th, on Friday José Saramago died, and, today, Aung San Suu Kyi turns 65.  So, the week started off well but ended on a pensive melancholy note.

Bloody Sunday happened way before I was born, but I’m pretty well aware of the incident having grown up with U2 and from just reading about history and events.  So, it took 38 years for the Seville inquiry to come to their conclusion, which is no doubt a testament that justice and truth prevails…and that is a victory for what is right.

Though those 38 years of struggle for truth gives me pause when I think of Burma.  The political system is so different there, and it’s been almost three years since the “Saffron Revolution” where Buddhist monks lead their protest against the junta.  Things have not gotten any better, and of course it’s been 15 years since Aung San Suu Kyi has been under house arrest.

It took 38 years for a democratic justice system to arrive at the truth.  By those numbers, the junta is just waiting for her to die and the people’s dream of democracy to go with her.  It’s difficult not to feel despair about that…but I also don’t want to resign myself to just hoping.  Aung San Suu Kyi’s one of the strongest and most inspiring people I’ve read, and below is my personal favorite quotes.

I think by now I have made it fairly clear that I am not very happy with the word “hope.” I don’t believe in people just hoping. We work for what we want. I always say that one has no right to hope without endeavor, so we work to try and bring about the situation that is necessary for the country, and we are confident that we will get to the negotiation table at one time or another. This is the way all such situations pan out– even with the most truculent dictator.  ~ Aung San Suu Kyi

She practices what she preaches, and other brave souls have taken it upon themselves to continue the struggle for truth and for their people’s freedom.  If you haven’t seen Burma VJ, please do.  I know that journalists sometimes have a bad reputation, but the work that they do is important; and in places where people have no freedoms, getting the truth is often a matter of life and death.  It’s a small thing I’m doing by posting, but at least Burmese people’s struggle isn’t forgotten.

Please Use Your Liberty to Promote Ours. ~ Aung San Suu Kyi

I’m only posting part one.  You can see the rest on Youtube or buy the DVD.

1,000 or 10,000?

First, I’d like to apologize to all my readers (yes the two of you) for neglecting my blogging duties.  However, life happens and I’d like to say something exciting and wonderful happened in between posts – but I’m sure your imagination if far more interesting than the fact that I just succumbed to laziness.

Actually, I’ve been cleaning and updating my computers, and I’ve found a treasure trove of interesting things to blog about in my old files.  So perhaps the delay was a blessing after all?  Or not depending on what’s being written, right?

So, I came across some old pictures I took a couple of years ago as well as some images I had gathered for a presentation on photojournalism ethics.  The old adage goes: A Picture Is Worth One Thousand Words.  Below is the original “Chinese proverb” from the streetcar advertisement and it translates as:  A Picture’s Meaning Can Express Ten Thousand Words.

Sure the wrongly translated version is more poetic, but I think the literal translation better emphasizes the fact that pictures do have an intended meaning and there is a visual language;  we do in fact “read” images and in multiple ways.

Below is a picture I look to capture a sense of “emotion” using the theme of “a day at the zoo.”  I think I had about 400 or so outtakes for that one day, but I already knew when I composed this shot that this was the one that was going to be used.  Why?

Well, after a long day of watching people tap on animal cages, using camera flashes, flashing cell phone lights at them, and children screaming at them, I was just overwhelmed with sympathy for the gorilla.  It just looked so tired and sad, as if it’s been doing this day in and day out.  I think this picture quintessentially communicates the complexity of the situation – a tired and sad gorilla on exhibit, a concerned little girl, both juxtaposed with the “pinkness” of childhood.  You can’t help but be sad and happy at the zoo.

However, the reality is that I knew that this shot was the most “universally” emotional and would appeal to the vast majority of viewers.  Is that being manipulative?  I think so but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing if the viewer also understands what’s happening and can dissect the meaning.  But of course, most can’t or when they do there are so many competing interpretations.  That’s when things sticky especially you have to think about the ethics of visually representing and portraying other people.

Although the photographer “composes” and reads a situation, subjects and the public are very aware of their media representation.  Especially for photojournalists, what is the boundary between society’s right to know and the individual’s right to be free of humiliation, shame, and indignity?  When does the “truth” of the story supersede those concerns? Ted Jackson’s “Hurricane Katrina” is a good essay on his experiences (JacksonEssay).

“I knew this would be a tough picture to shoot. I didn’t want to make the situation worse or add to the family’s trauma. Neither did I want it to seem that I was trying to profit from the situation.”

Stranger with a Camera is another good read about well-meaning intentions leading to tragedy results.  Calvin Trillin wrote about it in 1969 and Elizabeth Barret did a really moving documentary about it in 2000.  It’s worth a read for anyone interested in good literary journalism as well as a profound documentary about understanding and community.

The Story – strangerwithacamera

After about an hour and a half, the crew was ready to leave, but someone had noticed a woman come out of one of the shacks and go to the common well to draw some water, and she was asked to repeat the action for filming. As that last shot was being completed, a woman drove up and told the filmmakers that the man who owned the property was coming to throw them off of it. Then she drove away. A couple of minutes later, another car arrived, and a man – a thin, bald man – leaped out. He was holding a pistol. “Get off my property!” he shouted again and again. Then he fired twice. No one was hit. The filmmakers kept moving their equipment toward their cars across the road while trying to tell the man that they were leaving. One of them said that the man must be shooting blanks. “Get off my property,” he kept screaming. Hugh O’Connor, who was lugging a heavy battery across the highway, turned to say that they were going. The man held the pistol in both hands and pulled the trigger again. “Mr. O’Connor briefly looked down in amazement, and I saw a hole in his chest,” Holcomb later testified in court. “He saw it and he looked up in despair and said, “Why did you have to do that?” and, with blood coming from his mouth, he fell to the ground.

Calvin Trillin
“A Stranger with a Camera”
The New Yorker, April 29, 1969