The End Of Yugoslavia
Photograph by Darko Bandic, by courtesy of War Photo Ltd.
I was in Croatia recently and took the opportunity to visit War Photo Limited in Dubrovnik – an organisation whose purpose is to ‘educate the public in the field of war photography’ (http://www.warphotoltd.com/). There were several exhibition rooms but in the time I had I decided to zero in on the photos depicting the conflict which took place on the disintegration of the state of Yugoslavia in the early 1990s. It struck me that this was one of the last wars – perhaps the last war – to be recorded largely on analogue media. The result is that to this observer at least the photos look surprisingly historical and perhaps the reason for that is that they were taken by professional photographers. There are searing and appalling photos but they all conform to the standards of the genre: they use colour, form, outline, framing and movement to create a dreadful impact on the viewer. It is not therefore their content but their very style which creates their historical look. The two photos shown above and below illustrate the point.
Photograph by Paul Lowe, by courtesy of War Photo Ltd.
The advent of the mobile phone camera means that pictures of war are often taken now by witnesses, participants and increasingly by perpetrators and they bypass the conventions of the genre. Many are unashamedly partisan. And increasingly the professional photographer or reporter is seen to be parti pris. Sophisticated modern viewers know that everyone – or everyone’s editor – has an axe to grind. So the difficulty thrown up by conflict photography more and more is not so much obtaining the photograph as verifying it and this is compounded by the problem of volume – there are just so many pictures. (For example, a statistic that I came across from another theatre recently is that the Independent International Commission of Inquiry on the Syrian Arab Republic had to conduct forensic analyses of 26,948 images taken in government detention facilities alone.)
An interesting contrast comes just down the main street of old Dubrovnik, Stradun, where in the Sponza Palace is the Memorial Room Of The Defenders of Dubrovnik: (http://www.tzdubrovnik.hr/lang/en/get/muzeji/5705/memorial_room_of_dubrovnik_defenders.html).
This takes the monochrome identity card photos of the 400 plus men killed defending Dubrovnik during the 1990s war and displays them enlarged in grid form along the walls of the room with other memorabilia. Some of them were still in their teens. This, too, uses volume to effect. Yet so much is left to the imagination that the display has just as shattering an impact as the War Photo Limited exhibition. For those of us lucky enough to have grown up in the peace of western Europe in the second half of the twentieth century it is very difficult to imagine oneself in the circumstances of war. We have all figured, however, in identity photographs of one kind or another and it is that which seems to join us subconsciously to these fresh young faces.
(My thanks to War Photo Limited and the photographers for permission to reproduce the above photographs for this article.)