I assume you are both familiar with Patrick Witty here on Substack? His take on iconic war/tragedy images are always insightful. I think one issue to keep in mind always, is that we look at these images with a many-year historical perspective, long after the jury of popular culture/opinion has had its say. The images by now are fully stamped into our consciousness. But as you and William point out, at the time of the actual photograph taking, this was just one of many, many images that would likely get filed away in the archives. Who amongst us photographers has any say in what photos go viral? I mean, we can make the choice NOT to shoot a particular photo for ethical reasons, but once we take the picture and make it public, it's out of our hands, no? How Lange or Ut handled the eventual notoriety is where there is room for serious critique of the photographer's intention. I'm not certain Lange handled it very well, but that's for another essay.
I saw the MoMa exhibit. It influenced my personal decision to document the Covid and homeless crisis in my city. She was a powerful photographer. But as you point out (excellent essay!), she was not known to be a warm "people person." To her credit, she began her career photographing the well-healed then became one of the first woman "Street photographers." Her early work shows a sympathy to the downtrodden, but much of it is taken candidly and from a distance. I do think this back story to the Migrant Woman needs to be told. I also am willing to give Lange a long leash on this issue, given her pioneering status and the depth of the crisis that she was documenting. I look at some of Mary Ellen Marks work in a similar way. She "stole" photos of her subjects who had little agency in their lives but who's condition it was important to capture. We are now on a different era; stealing images of the vulnerable for a social or political "good" Is frowned upon. It still happens of course, but our collective consciousness as photographers has evolved. It's important that as we parse the ethics of images from previous eras that we keep proper context. Lange should be critiqued; she is not above the law, so to speak. But she pushed boundaries at a time when the rules were not fully written.
Thanks for your comment, Mark. And Dorothea Lange is indeed a powerful photographer driven by social consciousness. I certainly see how inspirational her work can be. In this occasion, she might have worked in a bit of a hurry and with less care than her usual standards — which is simply a very human thing, we all do that at times. And things got out of her hands quickly, too. What the book Collaboration explores, and what i found most interesting in this story, is the role of the photographed person: their right to have their voice heard — nearly a century after the picture was made, when showing the picture of the 'migrant mother', we should make room for the story of Florence Owens Thompsons.
Interesting Insights into the actual agitation of photojournalism.
In parallel to the complexity of things as seen from the point of view of working photographers, the book that led me to write the story, Collaboration, focuses on taking into consideration the point of view of the photographed persons.
One of the concerns that is explored in the book Collaboration, and one that i find of importance, is to ensure that the voice of the photographed persons can be heard too. Florence Owens Thompson wanted to be heard, and so did Phan Thi Kim Phúc, the woman known as the 'napalm girl': in 2022, she wrote an op ed in the NY Times under the title "It’s Been 50 Years. I Am Not ‘Napalm Girl' Anymore." An activist and a UNESCO goodwill ambassador, her life is indeed much broader than the tragic moment when the image was made.
Very interesting essay and commentary here! Thank you, Pierre!
Thank you, Susanne :-)
I assume you are both familiar with Patrick Witty here on Substack? His take on iconic war/tragedy images are always insightful. I think one issue to keep in mind always, is that we look at these images with a many-year historical perspective, long after the jury of popular culture/opinion has had its say. The images by now are fully stamped into our consciousness. But as you and William point out, at the time of the actual photograph taking, this was just one of many, many images that would likely get filed away in the archives. Who amongst us photographers has any say in what photos go viral? I mean, we can make the choice NOT to shoot a particular photo for ethical reasons, but once we take the picture and make it public, it's out of our hands, no? How Lange or Ut handled the eventual notoriety is where there is room for serious critique of the photographer's intention. I'm not certain Lange handled it very well, but that's for another essay.
Sure: i follow — and enjoy — Patrick Witty's substack.
Terrific!
I saw the MoMa exhibit. It influenced my personal decision to document the Covid and homeless crisis in my city. She was a powerful photographer. But as you point out (excellent essay!), she was not known to be a warm "people person." To her credit, she began her career photographing the well-healed then became one of the first woman "Street photographers." Her early work shows a sympathy to the downtrodden, but much of it is taken candidly and from a distance. I do think this back story to the Migrant Woman needs to be told. I also am willing to give Lange a long leash on this issue, given her pioneering status and the depth of the crisis that she was documenting. I look at some of Mary Ellen Marks work in a similar way. She "stole" photos of her subjects who had little agency in their lives but who's condition it was important to capture. We are now on a different era; stealing images of the vulnerable for a social or political "good" Is frowned upon. It still happens of course, but our collective consciousness as photographers has evolved. It's important that as we parse the ethics of images from previous eras that we keep proper context. Lange should be critiqued; she is not above the law, so to speak. But she pushed boundaries at a time when the rules were not fully written.
Thanks for your comment, Mark. And Dorothea Lange is indeed a powerful photographer driven by social consciousness. I certainly see how inspirational her work can be. In this occasion, she might have worked in a bit of a hurry and with less care than her usual standards — which is simply a very human thing, we all do that at times. And things got out of her hands quickly, too. What the book Collaboration explores, and what i found most interesting in this story, is the role of the photographed person: their right to have their voice heard — nearly a century after the picture was made, when showing the picture of the 'migrant mother', we should make room for the story of Florence Owens Thompsons.
Interesting Insights into the actual agitation of photojournalism.
In parallel to the complexity of things as seen from the point of view of working photographers, the book that led me to write the story, Collaboration, focuses on taking into consideration the point of view of the photographed persons.
Thank you for sharing your perspective, William.
Interesting that you mention Nick Ut and the 'napalm girl' picture. I had initially thought I'd include it in the story, and finally decided to write about it another time. Indeed, both are images of public importance: the events needed to be documented (i wrote this piece when Facebook censored the 'napalm girl' image a few years ago: https://www.article19.org/resources/facebook-vs-norway-learning-protect-freedom-expression-face-social-media-giants/ )
One of the concerns that is explored in the book Collaboration, and one that i find of importance, is to ensure that the voice of the photographed persons can be heard too. Florence Owens Thompson wanted to be heard, and so did Phan Thi Kim Phúc, the woman known as the 'napalm girl': in 2022, she wrote an op ed in the NY Times under the title "It’s Been 50 Years. I Am Not ‘Napalm Girl' Anymore." An activist and a UNESCO goodwill ambassador, her life is indeed much broader than the tragic moment when the image was made.