Read This Now: Perpignan Friday Conference on Conflict Photography

I'm going to come back and tell you all about Thursday very soon, but first I have to put up some comments from the press conference this morning with Stanley Greene, Yuri Kozyrev, Lucas Menget, and Patrick Robert -- the conflict journalist's speak. These photographers have all made incredible images in the most difficult places imaginable (Menget is a TV reporter), but Stanley stood out, as he often does, as the one most able and insistent to express very personal realities about the life of a conflict photographer and the respect that is often lacking but that the profession absolutely deserves. The audience broke out in raucous applause after almost every one of his comments...and I could barely keep my eyes free enough from tears to see what I was typing. Patrick also provided a fascinating counterpoint to Stanley's extremely personal involvement in his stories. I apologize for how long the text is (even without the questions, which are largely self-evident), but I absolutely believe that every one of these words needs desperately to be read by everyone even remotely involved in any kind of photography. (I also have to note that Lucas and Patrick's comments were being translated, so those are not direct quotations. Also, all the comments are as close to direct quotation as I could get but I undoubtedly missed little things.)
~Miki Johnson

Patrick
I try not to have a personal involvement [with my stories]. Even with your bloodthirsty rebels there's empathy you feel with them. I think it's important to accompany them, just not to become one of them. I'm not an activist, I don't want to take a stand, I go somewhere, I try to be clear about what's going on, and then I step back.

Stanley
I went to Iraq, we saw it as a road trip, we had no idea what we were going to see, we weren't embedded, but in that car I found the whole situation in Iraq was unraveling. I wanted to cover the insurgent's view, so we went to some individuals with the insurgency, and they proposed for us to come to Fallujah. It was the day the rockets were fired into cars by Blackwater personnel. We arrived on the day [they were hung on the bridge]. My driver, who was an insurgent, said, You should photograph this. There were people standing in a circle, with these bodies [that had been burned and drug around and hung up], I'm an American, and I know I have to photograph this. That particular day I not only photographed these bodies, I also photographed Muqtada al-Sadr's suicide force marching up to the Green Zone. Everything that day was a life-and-death situation. I got on the sat phone, and I said, I photographed these bodies, I said, I've got to get a way to get these photos to Nouvel Ops [Le Nouvel Observateur]. And the person on the phone basically said, fuck Nouvel Obs, we're going to sell it to Newsweek. I said no way, Nouvel Obs sent me here. What I got upset about was that nobody asked how I was feeling. Nothing. That night, in my hotel room, I fell down on my knees and cried. I hadn't done that since I was a kid. That day I lost something and I haven't been able to get it back. There are consequences to this stuff. You carry this stuff with you a very long time.

Lucas
Editors rarely think to ask how you feel. I would have liked to work at another time in the past where we didn't have phones. A photographer could work for a week and THEN send pictures in. We are working with combatants on the ground and that is precisely what helps us...we can only make these pictures if we share their lives. I went to Sadr City, and everyone was appalled to see a journalist in Sadr City. But we made a bond with the population and fighters. There was no food, many wounded, no health care, the only hospital was closed down, and we experienced this with these people. The only respect and bond we can create with these people is if we go and live their daily lives with them.

Yuri
I have family in Moscow, but I have another family in Baghdad. We lost two close friends, three wounded, four had to leave the country. If you are involved, it's your reality. It's your new family and you need to survive, you need to find a way to do your job. I think we should talk about Georgia. It's really rough to cover. Most of us were late getting there. But there were some journalists who tried to be on time. They covered it from Georgian side. We lost four journalists in two days. It was really rough. And it was really a shame because when we found the bodies of two of them, it took us ten days to send the bodies out. Those journalists didn't choose a side and they were killed by Osetian militias.

Stanley [Choked up]
I've lost a lot of friends. The reports I make is through the kindness of friends. The thing that shocked me most about Georgia was we lost four journalists. And they weren't killed by friendly fire, they were executed. There were eight wounded. Four arrested. All in a period of seven days. I was on the phone to different magazines. I really wanted to go to Georgia. But I'd made a promise to Jean-Francois [Leroy] to finish my captions [for the Visa pour l'Image exhibition]. I was trying to get there and [the editors] basically said to me, the story's over. I said, look these journalists are being killed. They said, yeah, that's true, but the story's over, you've got to find a different angle. I was really furious. There are all these people being killed, and they said we have to move on. That's what's going on in magazines now. They don't see that these stories matter to us, it's not about the money. It's about going there and trying to witness something. When they say the story's over, it hurts us.

Patrick
I try not take a personal stance. I always remember who I am, where I come from, who I work for. When you take your ticket [to go somewhere], you know what to expect. Then when you're in war conflicts, you're less surprised. One of my defenses is to not really look at what's going on around me. I look through the camera and that limits the expanse of what I can see. Everything I see in the country I see through the lens of my camera. What I see is almost the end result of my work. You have to constantly manage risk, the environment, what's going on around you, this doesn't leave you any time to think about the emotions you feel. I really do not heed my feelings, I try to control myself as much as possible.
I find that as a foreign journalist I'm never considered by victims as a voyeur or a vulture. On the ground people immediately understand why the photographer is there and why it's important they be there. In Africa, where people have no trust between each other, they see a photographer arrive, and this is a glimmer of hope. Perhaps this photographer will be able to show the world what's going on.

Yuri
I have to say Iraq is rough place to be a journalist. You can be a target...they blame any foreigner for the tragedy around. It's really, really hard.

Stanley
I think something has really changed. When I was covering conflicts when I was younger, Patrick is right, they use to accept us or embrace us. I've been places where CIA or other organizations have said they were journalists to gather information. People also feel we work for publications that are not going to tell the truth. When I've worked in Africa, my access was almost impossible. I'm black American, and they saw me as this bourgeoisie documenting their suffering. They said, you don't know what it's like, you think because you're black you know what it's like, you're not black, you're white. That was really hard. Then I was there with the Turnley brothers [who are white], and they had amazing access. [I asked the fixer and he said], they think he's real and you're fake.

Yesterday I sat on the jury of the Daily Press award. I saw work from Kenya, some of the work I've seen was really good. But what I kept seeing was these images showing these people as savages, showing then in such a way you could have no sympathy for them. We have to also have some sympathy. We can't constantly exploit them. We have to find another way around the story. The savageness exists, it's real; but another thing we saw in another picture, these guys were about to execute this guy, and all these photographers were focused on this individual about to be cut to pieces. I just can't believe we've reached a point where we don't have any sympathy to try to stop it. I'm not going to photograph that, I'm going to take a step back. I think those photographers exasperates the situation and make those people go forward because they think its' going to be capture on film.

Yuri brought up Georgia. There's a picture I've seen of a woman covered in blood. I know what it's like to be in an explosion. She's coming out, disoriented. Coming out of a building on fire. And this pack of journalists -- this wasn't people like Yuri or our colleagues, just people who have cameras and cell phones -- they are on this woman like a pack of wolves. No one taking any time to ask what it's like to be this woman. And this picture is no doubt going to be considered for World Press. What really rocked me was, there was no sensitivity. I wanted to see what happened: did someone go and pull her out of the rubble? When I see a lot of pictures today, I see this attitude that, this is going to win me a prize or this is my subject. We really have to be ambassadors. I love Patrick Robert because I've seen the savageness, but also that he was documenting something and trying to make people get angry. What he shows in his pictures is also sense of urgency. I think younger photographers really need to step back, take a breath, go back and look at the classic [conflict photographers]. We're not unique. They were covering this stuff before us. It seems that when they were photographing it, there was an empathy, there was a sympathy. I think it's vital you guys out there who want to be conflict photographers understand you have a responsibility. You cannot just exploit these people so that you can win a prize.

Another story: I was on line last night [for the evening projection]. I was with Marie Lauren Decker, one of greatest woman photographers out there. This woman photographed the north Vietnamese and received a lot of criticism for it. So she's standing on the line, and she's not well, she moves slower than rest of us. But she was like me, she was going to stand on line; she didn't want to go through back door [for VIPs]. And people were pushing her down. There was a moment where this woman was knocked around. Not one person took the time [to talk to her]. There are some photographers here, if you just took the time, they can give you so much information. They deserve your respect. These people, these are the real deal, and they need our respect.

Lucas
There are very few places where [photojournalists like us] can meet. Working with these photographers has helped me to change how I did TV reporting. TV can learn a lot of lessons from the world of photography. We're lucky we're in a very open profession. We can talk to everybody. But we lack a respect for the work of others sometimes. We need to look at all the exhibitions here. When you have people who work in these zones, people who are willing to show you the ropes. All we need to do is take the time to approach people.

Patrick
I actually don't believe that young photographers need to necessarily look at what other journalists have done, at least not completely and really analyze it. I think we've got photographers who look at Cartier-Bresson today. They're doing great work, but they're looking at classics and maybe they're just copying them. The great photographers hadn't been influenced by anyone. They just opened the way. I think it would be better to come in with no experience, a virgin, no thoughts or experiences about it. There are great young photographers working in black-and-white. Sometimes they're just looking for easy way out. Making a good print in black and white, getting emotion, is very easy. You have to go further and look at your perception of reality.
The photo of the woman coming out of the building [in Georgia]. I think that picture needed to be taken. We're rarely on our own; there's always other people around who are helping, providing health care and aid. I think it was local journalists who were there. I don't know if we can speculate on what those photographers were thinking and feeling. Maybe Stanley's right, maybe people just want to win prizes. But when we were there, we were just so happy to be there for such a historic event. Only later we got prizes and we thought, why? we don't deserve any prizes.

Stanley
I have what I call the two-minute rule. Editors call you on the telephone and ask you can you go somewhere. And you have two minutes to make a decision. Can I make this happen, how will I make this happen, what equipment do I need to take. And I think of the questions you need to ask [the editor] quickly. Once you make that decision there is no looking back. What do you feel when you go off? You don't look back. My fear is coming back. Donald Macullah, was once asked what makes great journalist. He said basically, it's the journalist that comes back. When I come back, I've disappeared before just so I can download. I really need to disconnect. When you actually go there you find your fixer, translator. What I do is a I read a lot of papers, watch a lot of TV, talk to a lot of colleagues, so when I get that call I sort of know what it will be about. I start to think all that, and when I get there I have an idea what I'm actually walking into. Do I need a vest and a helmet? There's a thing where closure happens. All the people around you who have nothing to do with helping you in that situation get cut out. That's what causes a lot of relationships to break up. Most of my relationships have gone straight to the toilet because the minute I get that call, I'm gone, my mind is where I have to go. And when you come back from that, you're bringing all that back. When I was married and I got back from an assignment, my wife would stand at the top of the stairs with a bag and tell me, put everything in this bag, strip down, you're clothes, you're boots, I don't want you bringing it in here. But the stuff that's in your head you can't put in that big black bag. I feel that what's really difficult for me is people don't invite me to parties anymore because I upset them. I tell them what's going on. You find yourself being alone because you really want to tell people these fucked up things. My problem has been I've gotten so deep trying to understand the people I'm photographing, it's very difficult to disconnect. I think Patrick might have a point; we have to find a way to disconnect. Maybe he's better off. Because Yuri and I are basket cases. When Chechnya was happening, every time a story would break out I had to be on a plane getting there. I said to Yuri I'd like to come see you in your home. He said, yeah, come to Baghdad. And I said, no Moscow. And he said, no Baghdad.

Yuri
Coming back is hard. Sometimes it's really hard to be back to the normal life. Here is your family, some kind of understanding. But it can be really horrible, like in New York, you mention you are covering Iraq, and people are, ok, another crazy guy wasting his life. Stanley's right, my home is Baghdad. I can be back home but my mind is in Baghdad. When you watch the news, it's shocking. When you're on the ground, it's just your life.

Patrick
The very decision of leaving [on assignment] is a major personal commitment and decision for me. First I try and imagine what it's like there, who am I working for, why am I going there. First I try to understand the situation. Then practical aspects. Then you are at the airport and that's it. That's why it's so painful when things are canceled. That's very upsetting. When an assignment is canceled that's the worst. otherwise the minute you're gone, it's easier. But I have stage fright. I have panic attacks. Once you're there you have other things to worry about. All those questions you had before are not relevant anymore. ...yes I'm really another person over there. I'm much better there than in Paris; in Paris I feel like I can't get anything done. I'm happy with myself when I'm there, I get things done. When I work with journalists or what happens often is we go on an official trip, with an NGO or embedded with soldiers, then I'm not very good because I cannot make all my own decisions. If I have to get up in the morning and decide everything, that gets the best out of me. When nothing works, when everything's broken, there are no police, no army, total chaos -- then I can know what I want to do.

I hate war and I hate being afraid. But fear is very helpful because it helps you assess danger. Fear gives you sense of the situation. If you really understand what's going on, you don't have time to be afraid. You know all the practical details and you handle it. When there are elements you cannot control, then fear sets in, and that means you have to stay back.
One more things, when I get back in Paris, I'm happy, I feel relieved to be back home. Is it difficult? Yes, because I keep wondering did I do a good job. But if I feel like I've done all I could, if you feel ok about what you've done, if you don't blame yourself, in those cases you can be relieved to be back.

Stanley
I have a confession. I'm quite shy. I have become shy over the years. I've developed the 100-yard stare because I can't detach. When I'm on the field something happens, it's almost like I'm some kind of character, something I've created. In the field I'm much more in control. When I'm in Paris or New York,  I don't know how to operate, or communicate. But when I'm in the field it all works. I can pick up the camera and work with the fixer and get through the checkpoints. But back home I fall apart and I sit there like a little kid. When I come back to relationships...somebody said, being with you is like being with a ghost. I don't want to see that happen to anybody. I think I've missed out on really wonderful opportunities of sharing things with people. I share with my fixer, my driver, I even share with the enemies. I seem to communicate better with them than someone in my immediate family. Once I was on assignment and my mom got sick. My brother called me and said, mom is really sick, she might die. I said let me call her. My mother said, I'm fine, your brother's trying to push me in my grave. She said do your job, I'll see you at Thanksgiving. So I said, OK. Then my brother called and said come home. He said, mom is afraid if she says the truth you will drop your precious assignment, but I'm telling you to come home. And I didn't go and she died. But you know what? If I had the whole things to do over again, I would have done the same thing. Maybe that sounds really cold-hearted. But when I'm on assignment, I turn off all my phones. If I can disconnect, I can get this job done. if I have to bring all that baggage, I can't. When I go on assignment I cut out the world

Stanley
Yeah, I'm a peace ambassador. I still believe maybe my pictures are going to make a difference. We may sound negative, but I think I'm in one of the world's greatest professions. I love being a photographer. Those who know me know that I'm quite twitchy. What I'm doing is constantly taking pictures with my fingers. I go there to try to understand how these conflicts happen. When I first started doing wars, I was trying to figure out how people get into wars. to do that you have to go to these places and then conflicts break out and I'm being called a war photographer. I don't see myself as a war photographer. I cover crises. I hate the term war photographer. We focus on crisis.

Lucas
Many publications don't want to go to these [crisis] areas. Violent pictures are hard to sell. When I wanted to come back to iraq, there were a lot of victims in the community of journalists. I had the opportunity to work with editors who gave me wide leeway, but there was some kind of political pressure. I think we've all felt this. To tell you how things work...in January, there not one day where the foreign minister of France did not have someone call my editor to make sure I was doing my job properly. He was doing everything in his power to have me come back to France. Our profession is under threat for political reasons. They don't want these pictures to be shown.

Comments

[Jay DeFoore]

Great report Miki. Keep em coming.

[brad]

What a powerful read! These guys are really on the front lines, fighting for our attention, and striving to do that for the right reasons. They are in a very real sense the prophets of our culture -- may we heed their vision!

[John M.]

Thank you. Very, very much.

[John M.]

Thank you. Very, very much.