My Hero

I came home and watched a magnificent documentary today the 2002 Academy Award Nominated Best Documentary Feature - War Photographer.

The film follows one of the world's greatest war photographers, (winner of the Robert Capa Gold Medal five times, the World Press Photo Award twice, Magazine Photographer of the Year seven times, the International Center of Photography Infinity Award three times, the Leica Award twice, and the Bayeux Award for War Correspondents twice to name a few) the incredible James Nachtway, as he works.

To do this, the filmmaker, Christian Frei, has mounted a special micro-camera atop James' 35mm camera, which enables the viewer to almost BE Mr. Nachtway....it is an amazing sensation to really see what he sees, to experience these moments - how close he is to bottomless grief and pain and danger. To see him move, respectfully, silently, but so present amongst people in their deepest throes of mourning. A film crew follows James, which allows you to see him calmly, like a monk, walk about composing his frames as bullets, grenades and bombs are in the air all around him.

Besides this immersing technical innovation, the film really captures the personal beauty of Mr. Nachtway. Although he takes amazing photographs, at no point is a viewer ever likely to comment "Look at his composition, look at the lovely contrast of the deep blacks in the shadows contrasted with the silvery highlights...". No, Mr. Nachtway does not see himself as an artist. He is documenting and giving voice to people who are suffering. In some amazing way, he channels all of his own grief, anger, and horror through his lens, and that is what you see.

His work captures atrocities, certainly, but it captures emotion more beautifully than any other photographer I am familiar with. Allow me to reprint here some of Mr. Nachtway's philosophy:

Is it possible to put an end to a form of human behavior (war) which has existed throughout history by means of photography? The proportions of that notion seem ridiculously out of balance. Yet, that very idea has motivated me.

For me, the strength of photography lies in its ability to evoke a sense of humanity. If war is an attempt to negate humanity, then photography can be perceived as the opposite of war and if it is used well it can be a powerful ingredient in the antidote to war. In a way, if an individual assumes the risk of placing himself in the middle of a war in order to communicate to the rest of the world what is happening, he is trying to negotiate for peace. Perhaps that is the reason why those in charge of perpetuating a war do not like to have photographers around.

It has occurred to me that if everyone could be there just once to see for themselves what white phosphorous does to the face of a child or what unspeakable pain is caused by the impact of a single bullet or how a jagged piece of shrapnel can rip someone's leg off - if everyone could be there to see for themselves the fear and the grief, just one time, then they would understand that nothing is worth letting things get to the point where that happens to even one person, let alone thousands.

But everyone cannot be there, and that is why photographers go there - to show them, to reach out and grab them and make them stop what they are doing and pay attention to what is going on - to create pictures powerful enough to overcome the diluting effects of the mass media and shake people out of their indifference - to protest and by the strength of that protest to make others protest.

The worst thing is to feel that as a photographer I am benefiting from someone else's tragedy. This idea haunts me. It is something I have to reckon with every day because I know that if I ever allow genuine compassion to be overtaken by personal ambition I will have sold my soul. The stakes are simply too high for me to believe otherwise.

Mr. Nachtway is an extraordinary man. A man of honor, soul and dedication.