Flickring Out

What will become of photojournalism in an age of bytes and amateurs?

CJR: Flickring Out
At a recent event, photographer Antonin Kratochvil screened slideshows of his work: American soldiers coolly observing the Iraqi distressed and dead; Lebanese militant youths standing restlessly near decaying walls; American evangelicals speaking in tongues. The photographer then clambered onstage, ruddy and scarf-wrapped (“The Bedoins wear them!”) for his talk, but he was no Christopher Hitchens. He hated talking about himself—as uncomfortable in the role of sage as the rest of us would be in a war zone—and he left the stage with half the time for his “speech” unused, encouraging his audience to spend it smoking cigarettes instead. Kratochvil is not alone in his taciturnity. When I recently asked one of the greats of the form for his thoughts, he e-mailed the aphorism: “To live happy, live hidden.”

Perhaps this distrust in the verbal complaint—so loved by windy print journalists—is why we don’t hear so much about the difficulties facing photojournalism, from street corner news photographers to the deans of the eminent agencies Magnum and vii. They’ve been struggling with downsizing, the rise of the amateur, the ubiquity of camera phones, sound-bite-ization, failing magazines (so fewer commissions), and a lack of money in general for the big photo essays that have long been the love of the metaphoric children of Walker Evans. Like print journalists, photographers are scrambling not only to make sense of the new world, but to survive in it intact.

Thanks for the link M.C.

see this entry about making dinner for Antonin last June

Wednesday Evening

This evening I walked into town to experience Jon playing upright bass with a great local pianist at El Mason. The sun was setting as I arrived. Enjoyed the music and the tapas and headed home an hour later. A drunk in a car (((New Mexico is famous for drunk drivers))) almost ran me over at the corner of Alameda and Paseo de Peralta and then continued happily on the wrong side of the street for a block. Luckily nobody came in the other direction.

I caught glimpses of the fat moon between trees and houses and thought what a wonderful experience walking at night is (((well, I could do without the drunk drivers)))… I like biking better than driving, but walking is the best way to see the moon.

My walk home –
between the trees,
a glimpse of the fat moon.
– 全放

(Thanks Y.)