By remarkable coincidence, Charlottesville, the town where I once lived in Virginia, is home to some of the world’s most well-known and respected photographers. They include Sally Mann, Sam Abell, Bill Allard and Michael ‘Nick’ Nichols.
The last of these, Nick Nichols used to host an annual slideshow party at his home where friends and photographers from the area could share their latest work. Its from this event that the ‘Look 3′ Festival of the Photograph has grown.
I’ve just got back from the second annual event, with my brain packed to bursting with new ideas after seeing numerous fantastic exhibits and listening to three talks by world renowned photographers Mary Ellen Mark, Joel-Peter Witkin and James Nachtwey.
The show-stopping event was James Nachtwey’s talk on the final evening. His war photography has documented conflict in Rawanda, Chechnya, Bosnia, Iraq and the Congo. I was curious to know what he was like. Was he going to be a ‘gung-ho’ hard-man war photographer, bristling with tales of daring do?
He was the complete opposite. A quiet, gentle character that was extremely nervous about talking in front of 1000 people in the sold-out Paramount theatre. He was interviewed by photo-editor MaryAnne Golon, a friend and colleague of 30 years. She put him at ease and was able to ask more direct and insigtful questions than a professional interviewer could have done.
The story that I believe will become part of photographic legend was his description of photographing 9/11. Just back from assignment, he was at home in his lower Manhatten apartment when the Twin Towers were struck.
He was framing a shot with a church and crucifix in the foreground as the first tower fell. He then moved to the second tower, which he admitted was ‘an error of judement’ in light of what had just happened. (Go to ‘9/11/01′ at www.jamesnachtwey.com” )
He recalled looking up and seeing the second tower starting to crumble. It was like a waterfall, he said, and one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. He knew he didn’t even have time to take a photograph, and in the 5 or 6 seconds it took for the tower to fall was able to dash into the elevator bank of a hotel, which protected him from the crashing rubble and shattering glass. He said he didn’t know how he was able to cover so much ground, so quickly, ‘it was like I was able to teleport myself across the street.’
The story was cajouled out of him by MaryAnne Golon, who was able to add her own experiences and viewpoint. She recalled talking to to other photographers during the day that said, ‘I’ve seen Jim.’ She asked, ‘was this before or after the second tower fell?’
She didn’t know if he was alive or dead until he walked into ‘Time’ magazine’s mid-town office, exhausted at the end of the day and covered in dust. He left footprints as he walked across the carpet, and his imprint as he sat in a chair. The following day, people asked ‘You’ve seen James?’ And MaryAnne could point to the floor and say, ‘you can walk in his footprints, and see the ghost of him on the chair.’
These revelations - and what was to follow - were significant in themselves, but even more-so in the context of the festival and talks by photographers and artists in general. It is extremely rare to have someone talk about their life and experiences with such intimacy and candour. Often, people will revell in the attention and delight at their opportunity to show-case and promote their work.
The question that drew gasps from the audience was when MaryAnne asked, ‘When you have seen so much pain, and so much suffering, do you still have the capacity to love?’
There was a pause, and we all realised that only a friend could ask such a question - and perhaps there was a momentary thought that maybe she’d gone a bit too far…… asking something like that in front of so many people.
‘Witnessing pain and sadness,’ James Nachtwey replied, ‘is an act of love.’
This reply was met with thunderous applause.
And rightly so. He told stories about 9/11, about leaping from fox holes after premonitions about shells exploding, about being in the back of a humvee in Iraq when a grenade was tossed in. (The writer with him, grabbed it and was in the process of throwing it out when it exploded. ‘That one hand saved four lives.’)
However, what shone through was his compasion and an inexpicable drive to document the worst that humans can do to each other. There are two images that are burned in my mind. The first, is a never ending pile of machetes from Rwanda. The second, is of an emaciated, African man crawling on hands and knees during famine. James Nachtwey explained how this man has probably lost everything. Farm, animals, family… yet his determination to keep going, even though he can no longer walk, should give us all hope.
(Go to ‘Famines’ at www.jamesnachtwey.com” )
The following evening, with the festival over and the attendees on their way home, I was sat on the downtown Mall in Charlottesville eating a slice of pizza with friends. As we chatted an un-assuming man with grey hair walked past. He looked completely anonymous and could have been someone’s uncle or Dad. However, I recognised that it was James Nachtwey walking back to his hotel.
Part of me wanted to run over and thank him for his honesty the night before, and give him a hearty hand-shake.
But instead, I decided to let him continue his walk in peace, with a silent and grateful thank-you.
To see a short film slideshow on the festival, you can go to: