Last week was full of horror, disbelief and touching compassion. It was also a week driven by photographs and discussion about photography. From the iconic photo by Boston Globe’s John Tlumacki on the cover of Sports Illustrated, to the hundreds of citizen photos turned in to the FBI, the story and the events that followed were driven by photography.

It’s fair to ask whether that has been a good or bad thing. Thousands of people uploaded photos and the online world took to acting like sleuths, isolating people in the photos, no matter whether they were right or wrong. It was that intense group action that gave the NYPost its chance to libel two teenagers with their cover.

Some newspapers and online sites doctored and cropped images so that we wouldn’t have to see the real carnage of the event. They censored images even before the dust had cleared. So not only are we seeing a multitude of images, but also we are being directed as to what we are allowed to see, what we should see, and what we should remember.

And it was overhead infrared photos that told the police that the second suspect was still alive, hiding in a backyard boat. But what does it all mean?

It is illogical to expect that the public won’t put their crime fighter hats on and pour through thousands upon thousands of images with no real idea what they are doing. It’s only a game, after all. There are no more editors, or we are all editors, regardless of whether we know what that means or not. When every photo has equal value, is it surprising that people find themselves slandered with a shocking casualness? Media outlets don’t feel the need to apologize or correct them.  They either stand firm (Rupert Murdoch), or the use the excuse that “everyone did it.”

We live in a time where nothing is unseen. Public events are now recorded by cameras everywhere, be they in the hands of the public or positioned all over our cities by authorities. And it soon became apparent that more photos just meant more confusion. Just like every photo on the web morphs into every other photo after a while, more doesn’t mean better.

The mainstream media played their part in fanning the flames of slander: CNN, AP, even the Boston Globe, reporting the name of someone who was not connected in any way. They got their information from people on Reddit who wanted to join in the hunt. We know that real reporting has been replaced with the hysteria of quickly grabbing nuggets of information from the Web regardless of its veracity in order to fill the endless hours of airtime. And these photos, these tangible (although not really since they are all digital) bits of visible evidence become the medium through which all events are reduced to an online game, complete with arrows and circles, not unlike a football play.

It was authorities who showed restraint and wrestled with their decision to release photos of the two suspects. They were measured in their action, waiting until they were fairly certain they had the right suspects.

When all photos are given equal weight, do they all become meaningless? People are looking for the iconic photo from the Boston bombing. Why? So that they can easily categorize the event, put it into a safe box that we can all refer to, therefore making this a shared experience. What is your choice? The runner falling down? The grainy video grabs of the two suspects? The sight of military-armed officials banging on doors in their house-to-house search? Military vehicles rumbling through the streets?

For me, there are 2 images. One, the eerily empty streets of Boston, and two, the man who was covering a woman right after the blast, talking into her ear, just being with her. It was a quiet moment in the midst of hysteria. Probably most of you don’t remember it–it was devoid of drama, just full of human compassion. We eagerly search out the intense, look for the frenetic, get caught up in the action. But it is the silent, calm, human moments that can remind us what was lost.

Today we finally met our students and looked at their personal work to get a sense of their abilities as photographers. I have to say I haven’t seen such a group of talented photographers in ages.  Every one of them had fascinating work. The work ranged from portraiture to documentary to landscape to autobiography to travel to reportage.

It was so amazing to see such strong work and meet such motivated students. Janette and I were excited to begin our workshop, and so, we got ready to take the students out shooting. First up was a recording studio, where we watched our students try to figure out how to shoot in a small space where not much action was going on. In groups of three they worked hard to make something out of very little, until there was really nothing more to do.

Then, we went to Los Dos Caminos, a park downtown where skateboarders try jumps and kids hang out in the afternoon.  It was wonderful to see our students go right up to people and ask if they could take their photos.  In fact, several of the students came up to me and said they had no idea “these people” were so friendly and nice.  In Caracas, the rich and poor never mingle. Both groups believe the other to be dangerous. It was a revelation for our students to find out that people are just people.

We also met some rappers in this square, and took them into a nearby alley to shoot. Everyone was having a great time shooting and posing and hanging out. We stayed as long as the light lasted before breaking up and heading back to the school to download the images and prepare for the next days outing.

Tomorrow we visit a Chavez-supported compound, Tiuna el Fuerte, so stay tuned. It was our best day yet!

All photos Stella Kramer

Since Janette Beckman and I went to Caracas to teach about Street Photography and Youth culture we did a bit of research before we left. One of the things we found online was a school that taught a kind of hip hop dance called “Tuki.” The problem was that it was only a virtual school. We were worried there wouldn’t be anything for Janette and our students to shoot., since we were relying on Roberto and others at RMTF (our hosts) to make things happen.

Luckily for us, we were able to connect with the same group of dancers we saw online, and went to the community center in Petare (the largest slum in Caracas) where they hang out and practice. It was our first foray into a different part of Caracas, and we were so happy to be able to get out and meet people.

Tuki music is electronic music that grew out of the barrios of South America.  In the same way that “punk” was a slur, so is “tuki.”  The dancer we saw on YouTube, Elberth “El Maestro”, seems to be a pretty well-known dancer. Tall and skinny, with rainbow kicks, his body is like a rubberband-malleable and bendable in extraordinary ways. We watched in awe as he and the other dancers in the crew showed their stuff. All around the yard were stenciled images of Chavez: as a b-boy, dunking a basketball, ever present and being whatever people wanted him to be.

The dancers, and everyone else were friendly, fun, and even though we don’t speak Spanish, they talked through the interpreters to be sure we understood them. And they loved being photographed.

After an amazing afternoon we returned to the school to give our lectures and meet more people, including some who had heard us on the radio! The word seemed to have gone out and rappers and hip hop followers came out to hear us, to meet us and to look at Janette’s seminal work.

The next day would be the start of our classes which would go on through the weekend. Little did we know then how incredible our students were, and what fun we would have, even as our days got longer.

Follow my next post tomorrow about Los Dos Caminos Square, Tiuna el Fuerte, and the wonderful work done my our class of 18 or 19 students.

All photographs by me

We began the morning in Caracas by appearing on local radio shows to talk about the photo school and why we are here.  Since neither Janette nor I speak Spanish (I know, typical arrogant Americano), Mariana comes to translate.  She is fantastic, a producer who went to NYU and is not only whip smart, but has a great sense of humor.  We will appear on 6 radio shows while we are here.

Tonight is the opening of Janette’s exhibit at the school, so we go and meet with the printer, Laura (an incredible woman) and to the framer. We do this twice because there turned out to be a problem with one of the prints. From there we continue to drive around and get stuck in traffic. Everywhere you look are colorful graffiti and murals. The government supports the efforts, but the painters go out at night.  There is some tagging over existing work, but not much.

Then we’re back at the school while the show is being hung. Chantal and Emilio work hard to put it up after Janette and I figure out the flow. The “Archive of Attitude” show features some of Janette’s famous black and white photographs of the Sex Pistols, The Specials, Run DMC, Beastie Boys, Salt ‘N Pepa, The Modettes, Debbie Harry, and fans from both the punk scene and the early Bronx hip hop scene. Sprinkled in are some of the East LA gang girls. It’s incredible to see the work on the wall.  I have never seen Janette’s work this way, and it once again makes me realize what an amazing photographer she is. The prints are large and gorgeous—lush black and beautiful shades of grey really give them depth and make them dynamic.

The Roberto Mata Taller de Fotographia is a great space, hidden like most things in Caracas, behind a nondescript doorway. The gallery is large with high ceilings, and upstairs there are classrooms, and a full darkroom for developing and printing film. But like anywhere, it is seldom used, and the top of the line equipment sits idle.

Driving around Caracas the one thing you see plenty of is color. From the red of Chavez supporters to the multi-colored graffiti, to the red, yellow and blue of the Venezuelan flag, you are swept up in the vibrancy of the city. The sky is clear blue, and looming on one side, the green mountain. On other sides, the rust colored barrio houses layer the hills to the far east. Greenery dips from all the balconies, and it makes the city seem so alive.

Driving everywhere without being able to roll down windows, while frequently stuck in traffic exhausts me. I live in a walking city, and as a person who never drives, I cannot imagine living this way. It is also apparent that the rich live in a bubble completely separated from the poor. As much as we wanted to get out and walk, and experience the city, we could not. And so we bow to a way of life we do not understand or have any experience with.

There are no stop signs here, or at least none that people really obey, except at major intersections. Everyone edges up on everyone else, and the first one who moves most aggressively wins. People have to walk between cars in a totally different way than how we in New York jaywalk. There are barely car lanes either.

We have our first taste of arepas and cachacas, and they are both delicious. Add to that the gorgeous taste of fruit (whether cut up or as juice), and I am really enjoying this bit of Caracas. We have visited a well-known bakery, Danubio, where Roberto knows the owner, Andreas, and he allows us to walk in the back to watch the pastries being made. We are then treated to spectacular desserts and café marrone (like cappucino), which I adore. What a treat! I could get used to that.

Roberto seems to know everyone, and that makes for a really pleasant day, even if the constant driving makes me exhausted.

The opening is a great success that brings out a lot of our students-to-be, as well as some local rappers. Since we are here to teach (and hopefully photograph) the youth and music scene, this bodes well for the future. People come up and introduce themselves and are so sweet and interesting we both have a wonderful time. It is so frustrating to not be able to really speak Spanish, but with some translating and a bit of effort we have some fun conversations.

We go to bed excited about what the next day will bring.

Tomorrow we meet Tuki dancers, drive around new parts of the city and actually begin to meet people and see the other part of town, so stay tuned for more of my Caracas adventure.

CARACAS DAY ONE

I returned from Caracas on Monday, and yesterday’s announcement of the death of Hugo Chavez was not unexpected.  Just before we left last week, there was a close-up photo released of a smiling, rosy-cheeked Chavez and his daughters.  It was the first public photo and mention of Chavez in more than two months. And since the last photo I remember seeing of him had him bloated and hairless from chemo, I wondered when the photo had actually been taken.

Yesterday, VP Maduro went on a strange rant about “enemies” giving Chavez cancer, and that Chavez was battling a very severe, new infection. American diplomats were expelled. It seemed Venezuela was being prepared for dire news. Then today, the death announcement.

Janette Beckman and I went to Caracas last week at the invitation of Roberto Mata, who wanted us to work with the students of his photography school (the Roberto Mata Taller de Fotographia), teaching “Street Photography and Youth Culture” (our idea).  We didn’t know what to expect, but the looming uncertainty about the health of Chavez, and the basic uncertainty of life in Venezuela colored all that went on for the week we were there.

Caracas is a city that seems to have so much potential—it looks like it should be a glistening international center of culture and commerce.  Yet it is standing still. With the largest oil reserves in the world, Venezuela should be bustling. But production is down under Chavez, and a myriad of other problems, including a sharp division between rich and poor, and unrelenting violence, has deeply hurt the country.

Since oil is so cheap, Caracas is jammed with cars and motorcycles. Traffic is terrible. Several years ago Chavez cut off imports of new cars, so you pass large car dealerships that are completely empty. Many car companies have left the country.

As we drove around the city on our first day (you don’t walk ever, it’s too dangerous), the motorbikes zoomed past from all sides at a crazy, frightening pace.  But it’s the fastest way to travel. We were not allowed to roll down our windows, so for several hours we were in a bubble: a very strange way to view this city.  As a result, it was a strange emotionless experience for me. There was graffiti everywhere, very colorful, much of it focused on Chavez.

The city has incredible architecture—every building is different.  I found it fascinating. Some of the office buildings have been taken over by squatters with the tacit approval of the government (you’ve probably read about the “Tower of David”). You see residential buildings painted red, built by the government. Many of the buildings have balconies with plants exploding out from them. It makes for a beautiful sight. But the old buildings downtown are filthy, and if you didn’t see people walking around, it would look sort of apocalyptic.

Janette and I were staying in a lovely hotel near the mountain (Altavista). It was strange to discover as we drove around that there were businesses behind the walls, since without signs or addresses you would never know anything was going on there. The mountain is a national park, and so there is no development on it.  But there is a now abandoned hotel on the very top that fascinated me. Known as Hotel Humboldt, it was designed by Tomas Jose Sanabria in 1956. The next time I am in Caracas, I want to go there.

Later that first night we were treated to a wonderful dinner party at Roberto’s home. I fell in love with the place—it was my dream of a place to live. It’s a large, open art-filled space with a huge front terrace and large back patio overlooking hills of quiet, blinking home lights. It’s hard to adequately describe how perfect it was. Roberto and his wife, Lisa, treated us to their friends and a great meal. That was a special treat. But it was sad to hear that because of the fear of kidnapping, they lived in essentially a closed community where their youngest son, Ignacio, was never allowed to go out to ride a bike, or play alone.

We went to bed very late that first night, not sure of what to think, but excited to find out what would come next.

I will be blogging each day of our visit for the next week, so stay tuned for more, including being on radio shows, meeting rappers, going behind the counter of a popular bakery, eating arepas and cachapas, watching Tuki dancers and much, much more.

Graffiti image by Janette Beckman

I’m heading down to Caracas, Venezuela to lecture and teach for a week with the incredible Janette Beckman.  Having never been there before I’m really excited, and have heard great things about the Roberto Mata Taller de Fotografia, and the students there.  Stay tuned to this space for more blogging as I hope to tell you all about it, and show the work of our students.

Sebastiano Tomada Piccolomini has been photographing conflict zones from Afghanistan to Haiti to Libya to Syria. His work has been published both in the US and Europe. I met Sebastiano when he was part of a panel, “Picturing War” that I moderated at PhotoNOLA in 2011.  I have also edited his work, and when I saw this project, now featured in The New Republic, I knew I wanted to have him answer some questions.

Give us a little background about how you came to photography

“I wish I had an interesting story about how I first picked up a camera but I really don’t… I wanted to impress my family and friends. I wanted their attention. I was not looking to make a difference.”

 Tell me how this project came about?

“I was covering the conflict in Syria and had been “Embedding” with the FSA (Free Syrian Army) in late October as the fight between the regime and the opposition was at its most kinetic point.

During a particularly bad day of fighting between the Free Syrian Army and the Assad regime, a band of rebels took refuge in the basement of an abandoned factory building in Aleppo. They had just lost two men and were in desperate need of more supplies and more fighters. As we all waited for the shelling to stop, I discovered a small hole in one of the factory walls. With that opening providing our only light, I photographed many of the rebels, each with the single item they claimed was the most crucial in their struggle against the government.”

It’s very different from what you normally shoot, how has it influenced you?

“In a War zone, at least for myself, you enter in a automatic mode; you know what your assignments are, you know what your editors want, you know what the magazines are looking for so you work around those lines. You don’t have the time to look for a side project; you shoot what you need, you keep your head low and you file your work daily while preparing for the next day.

Working on a personal project is good break from reality, it’s a way of stepping back and taking a deep breath, it’s refreshing, it gives you the time to realize that War itself is just a frame to everything happening around.”

 What do you want people to think about when looking at these photographs?

“I don’t think I want people to think anything in particular about these series of images, this was a simple and straightforward series of portraits, it simply happened and it fitted naturally within the events of the day…I came to terms with the fact that no one can understand or experience what it is you really feel, nor what your work is about. I stopped explaining what my work consists of and what I am trying to convey. Information is what comes to mind, all the rest is way to personal to explain in words.”

As a conflict photographer your work is usually documenting activity.  Was this harder?  Liberating?

“Liberating, for me and the fighters, and a distraction from the reality we were experiencing, it was just me and them.”

Anything else you want to say?

“Clarity, simplicity, honesty, that is what I look for.”

Moussen Alawi, 25-year-old  FSA fighter says: “I’m in charge of the artillery, I carry our mortar rounds, they look like flowers”.

Aiman Swade, 31-year-old FSA commander says: “I am the leader of these fighters, my radio is what I carry with me all the time, its how I organize and direct operations…besides that I carry my families memories, they all died in Al Bab.”

As the fight between the soldiers loyal to the regime and the members of the Free Syrian Army intensifies along the front lines of the besieged city of Aleppo, a selected group of rebel poses in front of the camera and answers one question: “What do you carry?” They have entered the highly contested area of Ramussen, one of Aleppo’s regime-controlled neighborhoods, to fight against a fully equipped Syrian tank battalion. On the first day of their mission, they have lost two men and have had four injuries. Hidden in the basement of a abandoned factory building they wait for resupplies and more fighters.

Isham, 19-year-old FSA fighter says: “Cigarettes, yes cigarettes are what I carry with me all the time…”.

Kachadur Manukian, 25-year-old FSA fighter says: “They killed my mother and father, I will kill them with my knife, I wait for that day, this is why I always carry my knife, I will kill them like I would kill a goat…”

All photographs Sebastiano Tomada Piccolomini/SIPAUSA

Bill Eppridge is one of the giants of photography.  I can’t emphasize this enough: Bill Eppridge didn’t just photograph history, he made history (more on that later). As a LIFE photographer, in the days when photo essays would run for pages and there might be 20 or more photos, he was able to examine the world through his photographs.  It’s a shame that this no longer exists.

This is the photo that started Bill‘s career:

Bill Eppridge

He was a student, working for the Missourian, and shot this.  It won first place in the National Press Photographers Pictures of the Year competition.  His award was an internship at LIFE magazine.  Thus began the illustrious career of Bill Eppridge.

From the groundbreaking photographs of “Needle Park,” and the lives of junkies to spending days at Woodstock to photographing the Beatles first visit to America, Bill Eppridge sought to show people worlds they had not seen.

“I tend to look at photographs differently. I want to see what other people are looking at when they’re looking at the subject.”  

Bill‘s obvious curiosity, his instinct, and his passion for photography shows in all of his work. He was our eyes to history.

It is the iconic photograph of a bus boy cradling a dying Robert Kennedy after he was shot in California in 1968, while running for president, that is his most famous image.  In fact, it is one of the most famous images in American history. Bill was traveling with Kennedy, documenting his  campaign in a way that doesn’t exist anymore.  The open access he had, and the spontaneity of the potential candidate is a thing of the past.  Access was complete, not staged and choreographed as it is today.  And Bill was there, our view into the campaign and into the man Kennedy was.

Bill Eppridge/LIFE/TIme Inc.

Bill was there when Kennedy was assassinated, and continued to shoot amidst the chaos, not even looking through the viewfinder so that he missed nothing.  And as a result, he took this amazing photograph, where time has stopped, where history in America changed again.  You see the shocked face of the bus boy and the outflung arms of Kennedy; as poetic an image as can be imagined at such a horrible time.

And then there is this:

Bill Eppridge

When LIFE magazine folded in 1972, Bill got a call asking him if he wanted the original print made from his negative.  He flew to New York to get it, but he couldn’t look at it, so he placed it behind his sofa in Laurel Canyon.  Several years later a fire destroyed his home and everything in it.  When Bill was sifting through the burned out home, he found this print, partially shielded by the sofa.  It is so astonishing that the central image remained.

Bill Eppridge is a lovely man, generous with his time and knowledge, and tells incredible stories.  He is still shooting. FOTOFusion here in West Palm Beach, Florida has hung a show of his work.  It’s fantastic, and a rare treat.  If you are anywhere near the Palm Beach Photographic Center, you must see the work of one of the preeminent photographers of our time. This is not to be missed.

Eclipse of the Sun by the Earth, 1930s

Charles Bittinger / National Geographic Society / Steven Kasher Gallery

What a great way to start the New Year, with the National Geographic show, “The Past and Future Present” at Steven Kasher.  Mixing vintage illustration with photography, we glimpse the beginning of the world, both real and imagined.  From the bottom of the ocean to planets far away, we see things that no longer exist.

What was once the ultimate source for discovering the world; National Geographic has taken us from the bottom of the ocean to planets far away, allowing us to see things that no longer exist.

I love the way Steven Kasher edits, sequences, and hangs his shows.  They are tight, beautifully displayed, and draw you in a logical fashion through the work.  This allows him to show a multitude of work that might seem overcrowded somewhere else.  This show breathes.

A Cascade of Weathered Ice Spills From the 14 Square Mile Glacier, Karagom Glacier, Caucasus Mountains, Russia, 1890

Vittorio Sella/National Geographic Image Collection/Steven Kasher Gallery

There are sequences from illustration to photograph that bring to life not just a location, but also its exuberance by juxtaposing the two.  We are brought closer to nature, and I’m reminded of a time when artists were in the field capturing the natural world in order to bring it to a larger audience.  Here is the spirit of adventure as an exciting, uplifting way of life.  And now, when the world has gotten smaller, and true adventure is harder to find, it is wonderful to be reminded visually of what it must have been like to visit and record places and people no one had seen before, whether in our world or in the artist’s mind.

The show is open until February 16. You should all go.

Jacques Yves Cousteau Films A Jet-propelled Submersible, Caribbean Sea, 1959

Jacques Ertaud/National Geographic Image Collection/Steven Kasher Gallery

So 2012 is finally drawing to a close, and I for one am not sorry it’s ending. In fact, good riddance! I always have ambivalent thoughts about the beginning of the New Year, but I do want to thank the people who made 2012 for me.

In no particular order, you are:

Julie Grahame, Janette Beckman, Giovanni Savino, Aaron Graubart, Jay Trinidad, Jennifer McClure, Jason Florio, Julien McRoberts, Mike Hartley, Matt Slaby, David Bram, Isa Leshko, Douglas Ljungkvist, Sari Goodfriend, Tony Gale, Wally Mason, Isadora Kosofsky, Roberto Mata, Paula Tognarelli, Maryann Camilleri, Robert Herman, Fatima Nejame, Allegra Wilde, Micah Diamond, Jessie Diamond, Marko Metzinger, Noah Fecks, Doug Menuez, Helen Jones-Florio, Louie Palu, Chris Buck, Michael Shaw, James Balog, Theron Humprey, Ashley Gilbertson, Frank Edie, Sam Edie, Lynn Ursic, Mackenzie Edie, Axel Kessler, Heather Brown, Andy Lerner, Chris Fitzgerald, Barbara Bordnick, Rolando Diaz, Leah Nash, Wayne Parsons, Bob Stevens, Kat Kojic, Rita Nannini, Calli McCaw, Jocelyn Baun, Steve Giralt, Mariana Becker Pineda, Sebastiano Tomada Piccolomini, Joseph Sief, Sarah Fretwell, Christian Kozowyk, Mariana Corporan, Katie Baum, Terri Gold, Jason O’Neal, Graham Jepson, Sheri Lynn Behr, Daile Kaplan, Debbie Zimelman, Beth Chucker, Mimi Ko, Fadi Asmar, Katrin Eisman, Gaia Danieli, Sara Terry, Sean Corcoran, Henry Jacobson, Jeff Jacobson, Angela Cappetta, John Edwin Mason.

We’ve worked together, laughed together, talked together, shared coffee together, and hopefully had fun together.  I salute you all.

Here’s to a better time for all.  More peace, more love, more compassion and more. May 2013 be brighter for us all.