Photographs as history

camera has hardly been there to record the horror of a land torn apart, the issues have not been focused on enough, Rai added.

Not one to let Dasgupta have the last word on the relationship between the editor and the photographer, Rai pointed out that on location, the latter shoots 20 to 30 frames, capturing many moments, each perhaps as compelling as the other; the editor on the other hand, "sitting in his air-conditioned office has already decided what he wants".  In other words, the photograph that appears in tomorrow’s newspaper or the week’s magazine is one that can sustain the readers’ interest (Dasgupta); clearly, it may not be what the photographer wanted. Rai believes that people haven’t learned to read photographs – and editors are no exception. "Most editors and educated people are visually illiterate’’ he declared with a wide smile, reminding the audience that often enough he had listened to the editor’s brief – and then taken just the photographs that he wanted. One could hear the audience and the panel say beneath their breath – "Ah, but then you have to be a Raghu Rai to be able to get away with that one!

In some ways, Rai’s lament on the lack of photo documentation of Kashmir was corroborated by a comment from the floor: how does one record history in a war zone where what one views and shoots is controlled? While agreeing with the question, panelist Alex Perry, South Asia Bureau Chief of Time magazine with considerable experience of Afghanistan, pointed out that despite limitations, some of the best and most poignant images of that war-torn country have come from still photographers: the TV crews just did not measure up, he felt. In part, Perry added wryly, the fact that still photographers were not paid as well as TV camerapersons meant that they felt emboldened to take risks and try hard for the less hackneyed image. They invariably came back with "unsurpassed visuals" and though TV visuals were on occasion "amazing, the commentary was dreadful". Bringing into focus once more the debate between the word and the image, Perry added that September 11 was "a real invigoration for the photograph"; not only TV, but text journalism rarely got beyond clichés.

The obvious interdependence between the editor and the photographer did not rule out the space for differences of opinion. Such differences could well surface at the level of differing policies: for instance, Swapan Dasgupta pointed out that it is India Today’s policy not to show blood and gore – the middle class reader is presented with a sanitised image; and this despite the fact that Indian disasters are replete with violence and destruction. He drew attention to the Rajdhani rail disaster of September 9 where the magazine chose not to use a painful image of a crushed boy keeping in mind reader sensibilities. One was reminded of the acrimonious debate when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated and some sections of the media were severely taken to task for displaying his mangled body. Obviously some self-censorship has come into play in the English language press: on other hand, the Bengali newspaper, Aajkaal displayed on its front page some horrific visuals of the rail disaster – and some readers made appreciative noises of how good the coverage was!

The questions from the floor – and there were many photographers in the audience - convinced one that the still photograph is no where near obsolete: its protagonists and practitioners are many and a lively discourse continues on the role, future and ethics surrounding the image. Does not a beautiful and poetic rendering of a horrific event change how we view the event, asked someone? Or for that matter, what about the healing power of the image of a painful incident? Such questions were a bit beyond the ken of the more hands-on approach of the evening’s participants. But they certainly added texture and soul to an enjoyable seminar reminding us that the photographic visual is about history – or maybe for some, it is history itself.

contact email:karlekars@vsnl.com