Tag: color

Steve McCurry’s India

The only word to describe Steve McCurry’s work on display at the Rubin Museum is dramatic. Perhaps there are those that would disagree with me, but I cannot help but notice the “punchiness” of his photos. His photos are aesthetically gorgeous; his cropping and framing are always on point. What is more wondrous, however, is his use of color. You can see in some of his photos where he saturated the overall color in order to highlight the colors of India (see photo below).

Blue city rooftops and building sides

We can see in this photo how he most certainly played with he colors of this photograph. The “tell” is in the lady, who looks like she’s been subject to a lasso tool on photoshop:

Man in brown and woman in red on balcony

Some may argue against his editing approach. If you are displaying a work about a group of people, should you be editing or should you keep something fairly “natural”? Of course, RAW images do need slight adjustments, yet when is editing “too much”? Or, does editing help extenuate a message, that the people of India are colorful and diverse.

Regardless, it is an undeniable fact that Steven McCurry knows how to use color well. We can debate the use of his editing, but it is pictures like these that prove McCurry grasps the importance of color:

Man covered in green powder is held by others covered in red powder

Here is a perfect example. McCurry took this during the Holi festival, where people throw sachets of color powder as a celebrate activity. Someone might argue, “But Taylor, Holi is inherently colorful!” Just because Holi is a holiday filled with rainbows does not meant that a photographer’s photo of the day will inherently be “great” just because there is color bursting everywhere. Here, McCurry creates a great visual story by introducing a quasi-dichotomy into the narrative of this image. The stark contrast between the bright green and the rich red is more powerful than if McCurry shot an image of all the different colors sachets used during Holi (red, orange, yellow green, blue, purple, etc.). Having a rainbow image would be beautiful, but almost too overwhelming: focusing on just red and green helps the viewer understand that the time is very colorful, while also allowing him/her to see the expression on the green man’s face (happiness).

The image of the woman holding a child in the rain is also another image where McCurry demonstrates his understanding of color. Why most of the image uses an analogous color scheme, McCurry introduces a pop of bright red. While the idea is slightly reminiscent of the cheesy Bed Bath & Beyond black and grey photos of London (with the old red phone booth being the only subject that’s in color), McCurry manages to use the red in a seamless manner.

Two children look into a car, one is dressed all in red

The strategic use of red in this image helps draw the viewer in; to stun us first, and to have us ask questions later. Questions, such as, why is the woman peering into the (apparent) taxi? Is she looking to see if someone is not inside, so she can use it? Why did she not bring an umbrella out with her that day?

As a whole, McCurry’s use of color in his works shows the vitality of the area, and how vast/diverse the nation can be. India is quite a large space that is filled with different castes, traditions, cuisines, and expressions. His colors also demonstrate the beauty that can be found in any pocket of life; for example, we can find beauty in the simplicity of a woman holding her child, perhaps calling a taxi. What I love about this work is that it shows just how unique photography can be, and how each photographer can have their own “signature.” McCurry’s works (think: his image of the Afghan girl) typically rely on the visual voice of the people, while also utilizing color to push the narrative. In comparison to another photographic work we discussed, Ashley Gilbertson’s Bedrooms of the Fallen, we can see where the author’s “touch” comes into play.

Room filled with pictures

While McCurry’s piece focus on the vitality of the people, Gilbertson’s focuses on the absence of the subject. One can debate that Gilbertson’s images of the bedrooms reveal the complexity of the lives of each fallen soldier, what truly matters is that they are gone. Their bedrooms remain, but they have disappeared.

Unlike McCurry’s vibrant images, Gilbertson uses a minimalist approach to tell his story. Thought the entire piece, he chooses to keep his work black and white. The absence of color can symbolize a multitude of things: the absence of the soldier in his/her family’s life, the absence of metaphorical “color” from the families’ lives, and the idea of the room being a “snapshot” in history.

What is important to note between McCurry or Gilbertson is that the use or absence of color can affect the interpretation and the resonance of the work. Both India and Bedrooms of the Fallen are strong visual stories, yet their use of colors and hues is completely different. As photographers ourselves, we must remember how every little detail (not just color, but even cropping) in our images can affect the story and the impact on the viewer. As Picasso once said, “When I haven’t used any blue, I use red.”

Steve McCurry Show

I’ll be perfectly honest: I have never attended a photography show before, so I did not know what to expect when I arrived at the Rubin Museum. I suppose I was initially struck with how few photos there were; once I walked through the exhibit, I wanted to see so much more of his work. The photos that were there, though, were incredibly engaging. They were grand not only in scale, but also in the sheer amount of content they contained – most of the pictures contained multiple people or scenes and there was just so much to process as I stood before them. This never made the images feel busy, though; rather, they were awe-inspiringly full of life.

Overall, the best word I can use to describe the show as a whole is vibrant. All of the photos were overwhelmingly colorful. There were bursting pops of color everywhere, whether it was a girl’s clothing, powder from a Holi festival, a painted wall, or a man’s bright beard. The color was intense, and it led me to wonder how much McCurry had enhanced his photos. Never in my life have I seen such bold colors simply existing in nature – does this mean McCurry heightened the intensity of his colors, or should I take this fact as proof that his photography captures something extremely foreign to my personal life experience? I think it may be a little of both.

The colors were not the only factor contributing to the vibrancy of McCurry’s work. The images had an explicitly happy, positive, and hopeful tone. The bright colors aided in conveying this tone, but additionally, a lot of the subjects were smiling, dancing, bounding, or plainly looking content and peaceful. McCurry was not showing hardship. He was not photographing pain or struggle. This could not be more evident than in this photograph, showing an old man with a destroyed sewing machine making his way out of a flood from a monsoon. His sewing machine, perhaps his most significant possession, is completely ruined, and he is up to his neck in water, yet he has an enormous grin on his face. The man looks utterly blissful in spite of his present situation.

man with sewing machine in neck high water

man with sewing machine in monsoon

This image reminded me of one of Haviv’s shots from Blood and Honey which I can only describe as its photographic opposite. They are similar on the surface, but are polar opposites in terms of the mood they covey. Both photos depict an elderly person traveling away from something – the man, probably heading to dry land, and the woman, possibly leaving her home to find a safe refuge. The two people actually look fairly similar – gray hair and worn, wrinkled faces shape their persona. Their lives are seemingly being ruined in the moment the respective photographs were taken – the man is desperately clinging to his broken sewing machine, probably the source of his income, and the woman’s city is overrun with soldiers and war.

old woman with headscarf walking city street

blood and honey – old woman walking from soldiers

As similar as these two photographs physically look, the underlying aura of each is drastically different. The man and his sewing machine look hopeful and truly cheerful – but the woman in Bosnia is devastating to look at. These two opposing moods are representative of the greater works in which they are contained. Blood and Honey is not a positive work; it shows pain, war, and human desolation. Haviv’s photo of the old woman is entirely emblematic of the horror of the story he is trying to tell. McCurry’s photography of India is light and fairly cheery, and the sewing machine man embodies that spirit fully.

In addition to the positivity and vibrance of McCurry’s collection, there is another quality to his work that is more difficult to describe – the photos feel very majestic and nearly other-worldly. To put that in extreme terms, the bright colors and fanciful spirit of the images make them seem like they exist as paintings of a fantasy world. This is evidenced in a large way in McCurry’s image entitled “Blue City.”

blue city rooftops and building sides

blue city: jodhpur, india

This photograph captures the city of Jodhpur, India in all of its bright glory. The buildings, sky, and truly everything about this image are as blue as imaginable. When I first came to this image in the museum, I genuinely stopped and looked at it from every angle possible because I was convinced it was a painting. After research, I learned that this magical blue city certainly does exist – but there are other small details that really struck me that make this photograph so unbelievable. The microscopic yet clear detail is so impressive – I was struck by two separate people standing in their doorways, looking as though they were placed there with the stroke of a paintbrush.

Person in city with blue rooftops and building sides

person in doorway

Silhouette of a person in building doorway

other person in doorway

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first glance, bold color is the only thing the viewer sees when looking at this one of McCurry’s photos. This reminded me of a boldly colored photograph of Haviv’s, his near-perfectly composed shot of blood in snow:

person walking away from blood stained snow and dirt

haviv’s blood and snow

Like McCurry’s blue city photo, initially the only visible feature of this image is the deep, dark red pool of blood. It is shocking and striking. However, upon deep investigation of the image, small details like the people in the doorways of McCurry’s photo are evident. Within the pool of blood, there appear to be at least two distinct sets of footprints. There is a white piece of paper with (as far as I can tell) a black number three printed on it. How many people were involved in producing this red snow? What other clues did they leave behind? The small, mysterious details in both McCurry’s and Haviv’s photo are incredibly enticing – they leave me in awe and with many, many questions.

Steve McCurry’s photographs of India are unbelievably vibrant and truly magical. They provide a remarkably bright look into alluring aspects of Indian culture, and the photos are a reflection of McCurry’s love for the very culture he captured. Although the underlying tone is drastically more cheery, his photos are easily comparable, at least aesthetically, to some of Haviv darkest work. This is a testament to the incredibly striking quality of the photos – regardless of whether the tone is positive or negative, it is conveyed powerfully and beautifully.

McCurry Response

Steve McCurry’s exhibition exuded powerful color throughout. His photos were so saturated with color that up close they resembled paintings. His portraits are also very unique, every set of eyes piercing and glistening with a melancholy but beautiful gaze.

Firstly, I wanted to discuss his scenic photography that resembled painted landscapes: Moonrise over Mumbai and Blue City. What I think added to the “painting” effect of these photos was the glossy finish of the canvas these photos must have been matted on.

Moonrise over Mumbai depicted a purple sky with pink and orange hues on the building and cab roofs. What struck me the most was the lines on the building on the right. The thick moldings outlining the windows and turret are so intensely highlighted as a detail in this shot it is almost as if they were painted with a thick brushstroke.

Purple skies surround pink buildings with cabs and people below

Blue City resembles a painted landscape even more so then Moonrise over Mumbai. Firstly, the geometry of this hilltop city is so intricate and complex you wonder how, realistically, it exists. The decay of the white and blue brick throughout the image is almost so perfectly geometric it cannot be real. Moreover the red and orange hues scattered throughout the image that juxtapose the dominating turquoise hue look as if they were added in after the fact in photoshop.  Finally the couple in the bottom left look very pixelized, as does the sky. As a whole, Blue City is breathtaking and captivating to any viewer but when looked at in detail you question the aesthetics and their validity.

Blue city rooftops and building sides

Secondly, I wanted to discuss his portraits. While the various portrait images also resembled paintings — due to their similarly saturated hues and blurred, glossy backgrounds — what demands the viewer’s attention are the subject’s eyes.

Young girl with red headscarf staring intently

Nomad Girl is a beautiful portrait of a beautiful young girl. The portrait within this exhibition severely juxtaposes other photographs that capture poverty or tragedy. Here one can only assume this girl has at least some money in order to afford her stunning hijab of delicate gold-like and red fabrics. Her delicate frame and large eyes suggest that she is young. Her eyes captivated me because regardless of how young she may actually be, I  can only imagine how much she has seen in her lifetime that has aged her in terms of maturity. The only detail that makes me doubt she is from a  more affluent class is the dirt on her right arm. This portrait particularly reminded me of another Steve McCurry portrait: the world famous portrait of the Afghan girl. While the two girls’ hijabs greatly differed their eyes were both piercing and their youth was juxtaposed with the tragedy they are surrounded by. You can’t help but notice McCurry’s distinctive portrait style.

Steve McCurry Show

What interested me most about Steve McCurry’s show at the Rubin Museum of Art was his ability to provide an extensive portrait of place. McCurry photographed a variety of people, events, and sites in India, while also ranging from more formal portraits to street shots. Color is an incredibly important tool to him—I felt he used it in a way to express the emotions and energy of his subjects, whether they were people or places. While he is clearly interested in photographing people, I was most impressed by his engagement with India as its own subject. The photographs I was most drawn to were devoid of individuals, but rather spoke to the manifestation of past, present and future in cities.

His images Agra Fort Train Station at Dusk, with Jama Masjid, the Great Mosque of Shah Jahan, in the Distance and Moonrise over Mumbai, both show a unique relationship between modernity and tradition. Having travelled to India a few times myself, this a theme that has always fascinated me. McCurry does a beautiful job of representing the interaction of historic architecture and modern technology.

Trains in foreground with mosque in background surround by a warm orange sky

Agra Fort Train Station at Dusk, with Jama Masjid, the Great Mosque of Shah Jahan, in the Distance

In Agra Fort Train Station he photographs the train station in the foreground with the mosque in the background. The highlights on the train create a somewhat theatrical lighting, emphasizing the significance and power of the train, while the beautiful architecture rests gently in the distance. By photographing the station at sunset, and when it is relatively empty, McCurry suggests a peaceful, tranquil quality to the relationship between past and present. The smoke of the train stands out against the dark tracks, but as it rises it dissipates and dissolves into the orange sky, suggesting some sort of harmony. It feels odd to be looking at the industrial landscape of the train station so close to such a sacred site. However, McCurry makes it appear natural with his deep depth of field and the sweeping orange and yellow tones.

Purple skies surround pink buildings with cabs and people below

Moonrise over Mumbai

Similarly, in Moonrise over Mumbai, McCurry photographs a historic neighborhood while showing the chaos of cars, people, shops, and light. There is an interesting relationship between the top of the buildings, lit by the setting sun and rising moon, and the neon lights flooding onto the street from shops and stands. For me, the neon lights function similarly to the train in Agra Fort Train Station, they represent modernity and in this image, a growing sense of consumerism. The buildings stand crisply in focus while the blurred cars rush beneath them. The bottom of the frame feels incredibly crowded in comparison to the top. This seems to me to represent the way in which India is made up of different histories, traditions, and times living and remaining on top of one another.

I find there to be an interesting comparison between McCurry’s work in India and Susan Meiselas’ photographs from Nicaragua. With Meiselas’ work, though it is very much centered on a specific place, I find it to be more of a portrait of people and events rather than Nicaragua itself. Though those people and events of course make up the history of Nicaragua, and specifically the revolution, each of Meiselas’ images feel a bit more small scale—all very particular moments. This in turn creates a sense that I am receiving bits and pieces, or an understanding of a place at a very particular time. This functions very well for Meiselas’ series because it is a portrait of a revolution, rather than an elongated period of time like McCurry’s photographs from India. It is interesting to analyze how these two series feel different. McCurry’s work feels separate from a temporal context. Perhaps this is because of India’s aesthetic, or because of the way he juxtaposes modernity and antiquity.

The comparison of Meiselas and McCurry’s use of color is also interesting. Both chose to take color photographs because they felt color better matched the energy of their respective locations. However, the color palettes of their images are vastly different. Meiselas’ color feels faded in comparison to McCurry’s. This is interesting, and somewhat surprising,  because when looking at her book I remember thinking the color was incredibly vivid. McCurry’s photographs are highly saturated and incredibly vibrant. His use of colors feels a bit more intentional—some of the images felt like they were taken because of the color. With Meiselas’ images, though often the colors are also vibrant, I rarely feel that the color makes the photograph. Color rather functions as a complement to her composition. This feels much subtler than McCurry’s use of color.

McCurry’s images feel very monumentalized. The photographs are not only printed largely in the show, but he also tends to aggrandize his subject. Through his color, lighting, and composition, his images feel dramatic. For example his photograph of the man in green powder from the Holi Festival in Rajasthan as well as the image of the father and daughter rowing down a canal, both have an incredible intensity to them because the subjects feel so singled out and glorified.

Man in green powder is held by others covered in red powder

Holi Festival (1996), Rajasthan, India.

Father rows boat while young girl looks pleadingly at camera

Father and Daughter on Boat 1996

This created a highly symbolic nature to his images—his subjects feel more like allegorical figures than individuals. The monumentalizing adds to the sense that he is creating a large, extensive portrait of India that transcends beyond specific people, places, or moments.

Meiselas, Close Image Analysis

Susan Meiselas’ Nicaragua series not only depicts bloody images of war. Rather, she chooses to capture images of daily life that don’t necessarily yield to violence. However, in the context of the series and through the idea of looming violence, these otherwise “mundane” images can have dark connotations. For example, Meiselas’ photo captioned, “Marketplace. Diriamba.” depicts a typical outdoor market scene. There are women with children holding hands, and baskets of vegetables in the background. The primary focus of the piece is a young boy in the center of the photo. He carries a white sack and he kneels below a merchant who holds out plastic soldiers. The boy’s eyes are fixed on the soldiers, and his eyebrows are furrowed as if he’s frightened. It doesn’t seem like the boy wants to buy the soldiers—rather, he merely looks at them from below.

NICARAGUA. Diriamba. Marketplace.

NICARAGUA. Diriamba. Marketplace.

In the context of the rest of the Nicaragua series, this photo is interesting in that the boy seems to be scared of the plastic soldiers. The imagery of the soldiers holds a significance since they connote violence. With the ongoing conflict between the Somoza family and the Sandinistas, the viewer can disregard the seemingly “normal” nature of the photo and can apply a more negative view on the context of the photo. The soldiers loom above the boy and can be seen as symbolic to the nature of the conflict: violence can occur anywhere, even in a marketplace like the one depicted in Meiselas’ photo.

In the context of Meiselas’ interview, Connectivity, with Drake Stutesman, Meiselas speaks about providing context to photographs through captions. In Nicaragua: June 1978- July, 1979, Meiselas does provide captioned photos, but these are placed at the end of the book so that the reader judges the image for themselves before becoming influenced by a caption. In the interview, Meiselas says, “But of course I’ve made photographs that just stand along and live along and I’m intrigued by that, too, and by what the viewers are then forced to bring to it from their imagination, rather than responding to the image re-contextualized by either sound or text”. This notion of a non-captioned photo could provide a brand new context to “Marketplace. Diriamba.” if the viewer wasn’t aware that the photo was taken during the Somoza regime, and the civil war.

Although the photo in focus is vaguely captioned as “Marketplace. Diriamba.”, Meiselas’ piece was presented in the context of her Nicaragua book which pertains to the war in Nicaragua. To that, if this photo were to stand alone out of the context of the other photos in Meiselas’ collection, the viewer may have a completely different perception of the scene, since nothing in the composition is telling of violence. The colors in the photo yield to a pleasant environment. These colors are primarily brought out by the clothes that the people in the background are wearing. Similarly, these clothes don’t indicate any sign of warfare or hardship. People are walking, rather than running; children are present. The boy kneeling in the center of the photograph can have a face of determination, rather than a face of fear.

VII Website and Photographers

I found myself struggling to not compare VII to Magnum while exploring their website. I have been familiar with Magnum for a long time, but my first knowledge of VII came from this course. I was initially impressed with how interested VII is in concrete change and solutions. Though I think documentary photographers can easily have a hand in change, simply from bringing eyes and attention to social issues, VII gives the impression that they are concerned with taking this to a deeper level and playing a role in solution making. This comes across through their Association and Partnerships.

In my overview of VII’s different photographers and projects I was surprised to see how much personal work was exhibited on the site. I was expecting mostly editorial work, but I came across many personal projects as well. I think this shows an interest in their photographers as artists that work beyond the realm of photojournalism. I was also impressed by how many multi-media projects VII has and supports. There is a large selection of films on their website, many of which contain both still and moving images within them. I get the impression that while a passion for photography is of course a huge part of VII, at the heart of the agency there is a more general and fundamental core desire to understand and better the lives of people around the world in whatever means possible.

One photographer I was drawn to is Sarker Potrick. Potrick is a member of VII based in Bangladesh. He became interested in photography during his graduate studies and is both a full time photographer and teacher. When I was looking at the “Photographers” page on the site his featured photograph caught my eye. The photograph was from his project What Remains which is a collection if photographs of his grandparents. I really like his introduction to the project in which he writes “I was sitting on my grandpa’s couch. The door was slightly open and I saw light coming through, washed out between the white door and white walls. All of a sudden it all started making sense. I could relate what I was seeing with what I felt.” I appreciated this last sentence because over the past year I have been struggling to take photographs that feel like an internal reflection. It is clear that this is the aesthetic motivation for Potrick’s What Remains. The images of his grandparents are very white-washed; they have a light blue hue and feel very minimal.

It was in the afternoon.I was sitting on my grandpa’s couch. The door was slightly open and I saw light coming through, washed out between the white door and white walls. All of a sudden it all started making sense. I could relate what I was seeing with what I felt. John and Prova, my grandparents. While growing up, I found much love and care from them. They were young and strong. As time went by it shaped everything in it’s own way. Bodies took different forms and relations went distant. Grandma’s hair turned gray, the walls started peeling off and the objects were all that remained. Everything was contained into one single room. They always loved the fact that I take pictures of them, because then I spend more time with them and they don’t feel lonely anymore. After Prova passed away, I try to visit more so John can talk. He tells me stories of their early life, and how they met. There are so many stories. Here, life is silent, suspended. Everything is on a wait. A wait for something that I don’t completely understan

What Remains – Sarker Potrick

This image for example, taken of one of his grandparents in the bathroom, feels very bare and quiet. He frames the image so that the frame is mostly made up of white walls. This is very similar to the other photographs in the project—they have minimal and bare compositions that make the space a sort of unspecific transitional location, reminiscent of a doctor’s waiting room. The palette of the images translates a very quiet, simple life isolated from the outside world, in a sort of limbo. Along with the title of the project, this relays a feeling of time passing and comes across as a very genuine attempt to visually capture the sentiments of being so entwined with old age, and as Potrick writes himself, a life occupied by waiting.

What draws me to Potrick’s images is his use of color. I normally tend towards liking black and white images more than color ones because I often either find color images to have too harsh of an aesthetic for my taste or they feel very digitalized and filter-y. However, I like the very soft and faded feeling of Potrick’s color. In his project Of River of Lost Lands, there is a similar aesthetic to What Remains in that many of the images seem slightly overexposed, making them appear gentle on the eyes. In Of River of Lost Lands Potrick photographed villages around the Padma river in Bangladesh and explored the people’s relationship to the river that both gives and takes away life.

Of River and Lost Lands - Sarker Potrick

Of River and Lost Lands – Sarker Potrick

That idea is seen in his photograph of a river scene in which a fallen building, mostly submerged in the water, rests in front of a moving boat. The fog makes the river and air one texture and color. This gives the whole image a very calm and quiet feeling. The image expresses the duality of the river—in it exists both destruction and activity. The soft tones of the images takes away any sense of violence from the destruction caused by the river. The color also highlights the murkiness of the water, emphasizing the mystifying quality of the river.

Another photographer who interests me from VII is Ed Kashi. I was drawn to his portfolio because I recognized a few of his editorial stories. Kashi is based in New York and focuses his work on social and political issues. A project of his that I am interested in is It’ll Be Better Next Year. For this project Kashi spent almost two weeks in Cimarron County in Oklahoma photographing a community of farmers whose lives have been severely effected by drought. The area was “the epicenter of the 1930s Dust Bowl” and his photographs are reminiscent of images taken by FSA photographers during the Great Depression.

Scott Murdock walks in a dust storm on drought stricken lands on his farm near Felt, Oklahoma. - Ed Kashi

Scott Murdock walks in a dust storm on drought stricken lands on his farm near Felt, Oklahoma. – Ed Kashi

Arthur Rothstein - Fleeing a Dust Storm, Cimarron Country Oklahoma, 1936

Arthur Rothstein – Fleeing a Dust Storm, Cimarron Country Oklahoma, 1936

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For example, this image reminds me, and I’m sure must  be in reference to, Arthur Rothstein’s image Fleeing a Dust Storm. Its pretty incredible to compare the two and how drastically similar the landscape appears. This project interests me because I think farming like this is often thought of as something of the past. I found the images in which Kashi allowed modernity to be seen more powerful than the ones that felt timeless, such as the one above.

Casey Murdock, 43, drives alongside his horse to his farm in Felt, Oklahoma. - Ed Kashi

Casey Murdock, 43, drives alongside his horse to his farm in Felt, Oklahoma. – Ed Kashi

For example I was really struck by this image of Casey Murdock driving along side his horse. The blur at the bottom of the image paired with the frozen movement of the horse and car immediately caught my eye and attention. The truck brings the image into the present and allows the struggles the farmers are currently facing to be understood as present struggles—not ones we only think of in the past. It made me wonder about what these images would be like if they were in color. Perhaps color would increase the sense of modernity and give them a life separate from FSA images. This is of course all based on my bias of being very familiar with FSA images and also having grown up in cities making farming and ranching seem like either an abstract concept, or something of the past. While, as I expressed earlier, I am normally drawn to black and white images, I think this project could possibly benefit from color.

A Story of Aesthetics

The Magnum website proved to be as beautiful and easily navigable as the photography on the site. From the simple font and design to the way the posts were separated into blocks, the Magnum website and the photographs draw you in. Although very uninformed about the technicalities of photography and what goes into making a shot aesthetically pleasing, I think that there is not one photo on this site that you could not deem beautiful or captivating. Ironically, although I am not sure that is the right word to use, even the photos of war and pain and corruption were captured in the most attractive, most vibrant, most pleasing ways. But especially through these almost inhumane documentations of horror, I personally was able draw a better focus on the very blurry line between photography and photojournalism.  Photojournalism is unforgiving. It captures raw truth. And beyond being merely visually pleasing, the work of these photographers tell a tale of relevance and gravity far better than CNN, The New York Times, The Atlantic, NPR. Rather than reading or listening to the news, the photography stays still as you find yourself paused in time, across the globe, in the midst of a crisis, a riot, a  singular moment. However, not every photograph captured a pivotal, societal event or crisis; many were documentations of an era–the fashion, the people, the culture–which hold relevant meaning and a story to tell as well. Through these static snapshots, the Magnum Collective does not merely document human history but urges the viewers to never forget, to stay empathetic and to never remain still.

The two photographers that I chose to look at were two female photographers: Eve Arnold and Alessandra Sanguinetti. In the process of choosing photographers I decided I wanted to give my attention to the very small female population in Magnum. I first chose Arnold, who had a quote that caught my attention in her profile: If a photographer cares about the people before the lens and is compassionate, much is given. It is the photographer, not the camera, that is the instrument.” This bolstered my perception of Magnum photographers as the warriors of our world, those who venture out in search of stories in need of being told. Almost evangelically, their photographs spread the gospel of remaining informed and not remaining still. To me, the particular Arnold photograph that embodies this is a gorgeous image of a young Chinese girl and a tired white horse on a beautiful green field lightly sprinkled with white and yellow flowers. Not only is this photo visually beautiful, it is beautifully intriguing. The caption, “CHINA. Inner Mongolia. Horse training for the militia. 1979” completely contradicts the serenity and beauty the photo holds and pulls the viewer into its story. Is this young girl dressed in bright pink really training a horse for war? Was she doing in voluntarily, against her own will? How old is she really? What are her own perceptions of the war? In this moment of utter peace, could there actually be a different story? There is no way not to get lost in the mystery and intrigue. Initially left with but a short caption, the viewer finds himself immersed in a story that urges him to discover more. 

Young woman laying in field with horse

The second photo that really drew me in was a black and white shot of Marlene Dietrich. The photograph is haunting; Dietrich is sitting in a distressed pose, her elbow on her thigh and hand on her cheek–in almost a “The Thinker”-esque pose. On the table in front seems to be a mug and a used tissue. The depth of the distress tugs at your heart, makes you want to comfort the damsel–that is, until you read the caption. The caption describes “Dietrich at the recording studios of COLUMBIA RECORDS, who were releasing most of her songs she had performed for the troops during World War II, including LILI MARLENE, Miss Otis Regrets. She was 51 years old and starting a come-back in show business. It was a wet and cold November night and work could only begin at midnight, at the advise [sic] of Marlene’s astrologer. November 1952.” The caption transform the photo into one of more exhaustion, a worn-out feeling. I could hear her almost sighing, “Why am I here?” The photograph and the caption work to give the viewer a piece of Dietrich’s personality–a mix of haughty stardom but also a worried, superstitious and desperate ex-star.

Woman at table looking away from camera

Whether it be in color or not, have a long caption or not, both of these photographs invite you into their story. In both, Arnold truly captured moments that long to find a viewer who will listen to and search for its story.

Visual storytelling cannot solely be attributed to Arnold. Quite honestly, I believe it is embedded in the essence of photojournalism. Through Book 1 of her photo journal “The Adventures of Guille and Belinda…” Alessandra Sanguinetti, the second photographer I chose, captures snapshots of two girls’ lives. Of the two photos that especially stood out to me, the one of Guille standing next to a large hydrangea bush with her face hidden among the leaves. It wasn’t particularly the odd situation at hand that really drew me in; it was the colors–the faded blues, the subtle pinks, the deep greens. With the stunning color scheme and the peculiar, silly, very animated pose, the photo is just fun–and fun to look at. All of them are actually. All the photos in this particular photo story captivate you with color and scenes of companionship and femininity within the confines of a square. My second favorite photo was also in the same photo journal. It shows Guille and Belina, two girls of opposite body figures, floating with their eyes closed in a beautiful blue body of water. They hold flowers in their hands which really reminded me of the painting Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millais. Once again, this odd scene paired with the beautiful colors make the photo impossible to not look at and just enjoy. The story Sanguinetti tells through her photographs is one that evokes a happy feeling, a story of innocence and the beauty of youth. Her images are purely lovely and portrays her two characters into a lovable pair, much like Wallace and Gromit.

Woman smelling flowers in large bush       Two young women laying river with flowers in their hands