Capturing a soul is worth 1,000 words
By Carol Guzy Posted Sun, Apr 1 2001
We photojournalists are chameleons by nature. Flexibility, patience and perseverance are important character traits. Being a woman has been no struggle, but it’s certainly tough to be short. For instance, the morning the Germans were about to take the first chunk out of the Berlin Wall, I found myself in a crushing crowd unable to see anything. Unfortunately one detail of photography is the need to see your subject. I surveyed the scene and noticed a large, sturdy German male “tripod” smiling at me. He graciously put me on his shoulders and spent one of the most memorable moments of his life with my Nikons clanging off his forehead.
Times have changed since my career began. There were frequent tales of inequality. Female faces were few on photography staffs and even more uncommon on international stories. I feel a certain pride when young students view past generations of women as role models and firmly realize gender can no longer deter them from their dreams. Change occurs slowly in any society or culture. Journalism is now embracing the importance of diversity in the news room and photographers — men and women — gain respect more by the images they create.
Photography has enriched my life with a tapestry of experiences. I’ve looked up close at the anguish of conflict, the thrill of revolution, the rapture of liberation. I’ve seen famines of biblical proportions, watched communism crumble in Eastern Europe and felt the spirit in Sierra Leone amputees that rebel brutality could not extinguish. These children proclaimed my name to be “Yema,” an African word for mom.
I’ve walked over bodies piled deep under the muck of a devastating mudslide in Armero and climbed to a mountaintop with Haitians, who believe if they just get a little closer to their God, he may finally hear them. I’ve photographed the first breath of a baby and the unmistakable expression of death as the light leaves someone’s eyes. I’ve developed film in toilets, and I’ve blown up scanners, satellite phones and cameras along the way.
There are, of course, down sides to any job. I have been screamed at, knocked down, trampled by mobs and packs of photographers, arrested, shot at, and back pain has become a personal friend. I’ve been called obsessive by my editors too many times to count. I prefer the word dedicated.
It is said that when you make a photo, you take a piece of the soul. It is indeed a privilege for journalists to bear witness to history, both the major news events and the small moments of humanity that provide a record of our time. But it is haunting to voyage into so many different souls.
What we behold clings to us and changes us. We see people’s most intimate moments — their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and tragedies. Trying to translate what you experience becomes a formidable task. We inhabit our subject’s skin intimately enough to tell their story yet remain an impartial spectator of their world. It’s a delicate balance in which the lens can be a shield from your personal feelings. But it’s only a temporary respite.
A photograph can be a powerful witness and an eloquent voice for those who have none. Pictures inform, educate, enlighten, captivate and spur governments into action. They are historical documents and poignant reminders of our human frailties. At times they make a difference, though perhaps only a small difference to one person for one moment on one day, but meaningful nonetheless. They’re our life’s work, our legacy.
C. Hoppe wrote, “I hope my achievements in life will be these — that I will have fought for what was right and fair, that I will have risked for that which mattered, that I will have given help to those who were in need … that I will have left the earth a better place for what I’ve done and who I’ve been.”
As long as abuse and injustice remain, we must have a social conscience and bring these issues to light for others to judge. There is satisfaction in hearing your work has made someone angry, then made them think, then made them act. Each of us leaves behind what we’ve done and who we’ve been.