Posts Tagged ‘death’

more on the deaths and lives of photojournalist

March 1, 2012

Remembering 13 Unsung Heroes of Photojournalism

News stories of the deaths in Syria of American reporter Marie Colvin and French photographer Remi Ochlik totaled in the thousands last week. That was followed by hundreds of stories yesterday about the rescue of British photographer Paul Conroy, who was injured in the same attack in Homs, Syria that killed Ochlik and Colvin.

Lost in much of the coverage about Conroy’s rescue was the fact that 35 activists helped Conroy reach safety in Lebanon, and 13 of them died during the rescue mission. AP reported those deaths, which occurred when government troops attacked the activists.

Meanwhile, the death last Friday of Anas al-Tarsha, a young Syrian videographer and the fourth journalist to die in Homs within a week, was virtually unreported by the news media, except in Spain. The Committee to Protect Journalists, NPPA, Lightstalkers, and a few others also mentioned his death. The death of the fourth journalist, Syrian video blogger Rami al-Sayed, also received much less coverage last week than the deaths of Ochlik and Colvin.

In other words, Western journalists get into trouble, and it’s big news. Local journalists and fixers and others who get injured or killed along side them are too often relegated to the footnotes.

Of course, hundreds of Syrians have died and thousands more have been injured in Homs, where government troops have been shelling rebels and unarmed civilians alike for three weeks in order to keep the unpopular Syrian leader Bashar al-Assad in power.

But a disproportionate amount of Western media attention and outrage seems reserved for its own journalists, and it raises (again) the uncomfortable questions about the risks that Western journalists impose not only on themselves, but the locals who aid them. (The issue arose last spring, when a driver for four New York Times journalists went missing after they were detained at a checkpoint in Libya. It wasn’t until November that The New York Times quietly acknowledged the driver’s death.)

This isn’t to say that the deaths of Colvin, Ochlik or any other journalists are anything but a tragedy, regardless of their nationality. Nor is it to suggest selfishness or callousness on the part of individual journalists for whom drivers, fixers, or anyone else risks life and limb. (Conroy’s wife has told The Western Morning News that the photographer “is obviously very concerned for all the people who lost their lives in helping them out. It’s a real burden on him to know that so many people died.”)

What makes the issue so complicated is that journalists endanger themselves and others for good, defensible reasons. By bearing witness to the savagery committed by al-Assad, journalists are trying to help the Syrian people. And they are making a difference. The images and reports have turned the international community (with the glaring exceptions of China and Russia) against al-Assad, and put pressure on him to allow the Red Cross and Red Crescent in to help evacuate the dead and wounded.

That’s why al-Assad is targeting journalists with intent to kill them, while Syrian citizens are risking their lives to help those same journalists. The Syrians who died in the rescue of Paul Conroy undertook the mission voluntarily. But their deaths shouldn’t be his burden to bear alone, because they might have died for any journalist in Conroy’s predicament. To recognize and honor them for their sacrifice is to elevate and honor not only them, but all who put themselves at risk anywhere in the world to make the work of journalists possible.

story from PDN blog. see related stories.

do we know who brings us the news? reporters & photographers die

February 28, 2012

i’ve been thinking these days about journalist/photographers in the news. about their untimely deaths just doing their jobs. how often have i/we looked at a picture online or in a newspaper words and thought nothing of the people who wrote it.

it’s just a picture taken far far away in another land that could be in another world. but it’s taken by someone who we never think of. do we even look at their byline?

so much of our daily lives are lived, sort of in this haze we call living, us in our zombie states of sleep we call awake. never really feeling life except for maybe an odd buzzing in our ear which we can easily ignore. that doesn’t mean when we lose something or someone it’s any less of a loose because it doesn’t touch us, nor grabs our arm and turns us towards the loss.

it’s a loss in the FORCE as George Lucus wrote in Star Wars, but we all know it by another name or a nameless name. something so personal that is unmentionable but yet there all the time. do we turn towards our own illusions of our immortality afraid to think about our constant companion of death.

all of life is impermanent as is our art and photographs. we live on through others remembrances. although at death our atoms are spread across the universe mixing with everything else in the soup of life we are only a memory somewhere. life is so fragile like a flower easily crushed or cherished.

i’ve never been in a life treating situation through my work so i can’t image people doing this every day. i’ve met news photographers both male and female who work for newspapers and magazines covering hot spots around the globe thinking nothing of it. at least i am never asked to share those thoughts of danger.

i’ve read in PDN where togs have begun using iphones and other consumer devices to capture world events to forward to their respective employers just so they don’t stand out from a crowd. i can’t imagine lugging around my 5D Mll through an artillery barrage in the streets somewhere, dodging bullets and shrapnel. guess that’s why the leica was so popular back then but times change, people are slower.

this is really about the people, words and pictures, they come from somewhere before they are served to us over eggs over easy. i don’t want to forget their efforts nor the people who support them the drivers and interpreters. yesterday i read where the driver who drove then journalist in libya was killed for being with them.

how cruel the people of the world are, what a waste of life being spread across the streets, alleys and hillsides of this earth enriching no one or only one. coming back from hawaii learning of a battle to unite the islands under Kamehameha 1, 800 men lost their lives either in fighting or being thrown off a cliff. what a waste of life was the first thought in my head.

why are men so cruel to each other?

i think how silly my work is in comparison to news gathers yet it does serve a purpose, if only for the lonely men looking for nude photos of young women. i hope i am able to catch the beauty i see before me, capture the emotion of the dance , power of nature around us and our frailty.

we need  art in the world to remind us of our humanity which seems so easy to forget,especially in hard times. where has reason gone? who’s blood will run across discarded cigarette butts in the gutter today? where are the men in suits to stop this carnage? there are way too many guns in this world in way too many uncontrollable people’s hands.

let us not forget the people who kill and those victims they kill for both need our love and understanding.

me and my shadow, a companion missed, not peter pan

February 5, 2011

my companion for over 13 years shadow had to be put to sleep this past monday and just remembering that makes tears start to form. she was a classy dog and fine companion right up to the end. at some point i may be able to write about her but not right now.

Shadow

mary wrote a wonderful entry on her blog at NY Mero ‘Quality of Life’ about the three of us. there is a big hole where shadow use to be, but she suffered way too much from getting old. it was time we all knew it and it came pretty suddenly she was ready for a rest. she struggled so much following us, moving from room to room, but she never complained not even a whimper.  i remember how soft her hair was.

now if only human doctors would let us go that peacefully laying on the floor or anywhere. she died with dignity surrounded by her loved ones. but even some vets wanted to try and fix her kidneys which were failing, for what? didn’t they and doctors realize death become us? so does grief for those who risk love.

friday we decided to get out of the house/apt respectively and start visiting the world again. it’s been a tough two weeks what with all the snow storms, shoveling for hours although we’ve got it down pretty well.

Mary sent me some announcements of openings around town and we said ‘why not?’ it’s alway interesting to see what other artist are doing in the world so she came by and picked me up.

first we went to Art Bazaar,  artist reception 6-9pm  Group exhibition of @ 14 emerging artists. at
175 Seventh Ave.  (20th Street)  NYC. a small gallery crowded with friends of friends and a few interesting artist. one i found interesting but didn’t have time to talk with her, she seemed too busy talking with others. oh well

then we moved on to jen bekman gallery, 6 spring st, NYC, NY, for the opening of hey hot shot. i though art bazaar was small well jen bekman is tiny but filled to the brim of friends of friends overflowing onto the street. we tried to go in but couldn’t see anything too crowded so we left.

walking the street at dinner time the subject comes of where to eat? we came upon lombardi’s at 32 spring st. i told mary about the competition between them and john’s pizza both claiming to be the best in nyc, so why not give them a try. they had a  zagat quote on their awning but maybe they got that for something other than pizza.

well it was friday nite but the place had tables right away. we were lead to one of the rooms through the kitchen. i didn’t see one italian in there but we sat down and ordered a small pizza, cesar salad and a glass of wine. the salad was fine, the wine was in one of the smallest glasses i’ve ever seem and when the pizza came it was burnt. i looked at all three pizzas that were around us which looked the same to me. mary likes the crust which i also do but not with a burnt taste. oh well they just won’t get our money any more. should i have said something? maybe it just didn’t seem that important what with all that had happened this past week.