Documentary Photo: September 2010

In the first 5 to 10 minutes of the film, all I could think was how no one was stopping him, wondering how he could be right in their faces and the people are letting him while they're grieving. I kept wondering if he had any respect of the individuals and the tumultuous emotions they were experiencing while his camera was so close as to be intrusive. It wasn't until a little later on when he was talking to a family about the situation that I came to understand his intent a little more. Every photographer wants to tell stories, but some have different motives. When I realized how pure James Nachtway's intentions were, I was completely captivated. Even without knowledge of the artist's narrative, the work is strong and evocative. With his commentary, it's just phenomenal. I was near tears through half of more of the film, which is difficult to do when you're sitting in a library surrounded by others and the humdrum of everyday life. I was blown away at the humility he showed. The interesting thing is that his photographs only show us a split second of the event. Even in that split second, though, we cannot even comprehend the actual experience. We have only an inkling of an idea, and yet the images are so powerful that even in that small section captured our emotions respond to what our mind cannot even grasp.

The image of the boy's head with the tall destroyed buildings in the background was one that really spoke to me. His gaze is so intense. To me the image is inspiring as if he's turning his back to the destruction and will forge on in this life. Grim but absolutely beautiful. It steps away from the shock value of war and emphasizes the personhood of the boy photographed even with only half of his head visible.

One of the more striking moments to me was from the cameraman's perspective on how Nachtway plead for the life of the man chased by the mob. I'd never thought about war photography much except to be amazed at the brutality and horror expressed. I can't get out of my head what he had said about not just about being in it, but being part of it. He's not just standing by photographing. He's put his heart and life on the line because what he's is about is more important than his well-being.

Another image that really stuck with me was of the boy with the scars on his face and the marks of the stitches that held it together. The aesthetic beauty of the photograph contradicting the skin's mutilation and the realization of how this boy got those scars is indescribable. The massacres that Nachtway witnessed and brought back to the world speak for themselves. For one person to endure even a fraction of it is an amazing testament to human fortitude.

To be there in it and to be photographing some of the same people who may have been part of those massacres the day before was in Nachtway's words "like taking the express elevator to hell." I don't think I could do what he does. I don't think I could see the things he has and keep the amount of compassion and optimism that he does. It would be hard to keep my sanity after witnessing this pain and suffering first hand. Not only that but he has this inner determination that his success, though built off personal suffering, is to give these people a voice and not for personal advancement.

I love that his goal is to evoke humanity. That photography is the antidote to war. That war suppresses and negates humanity, but by exposing the nature of war and what it does to the people we can end it: our humanity cannot allow us to continue and photography is a tool to help us.