James Nachtwey is a combat photographer who utilizes photography to promote social, political and economic change. His work is a voice for those in war or extreme poverty and devastation who cannot speak themselves. To capture expressive images, he thoroughly documents war refugees and mourners in the midst of their grief. However, he is so meticulous and calculating that I wonder whether or not he offends his subjects and invades their privacy.
The documentary “War Photographer” (2001), directed by Christian Fei, shows how Nachtwey uses photography as a medium to evoke a human response. Throughout the documentary, he is mostly expressionless and reticent, with deep grooves in his hardened face as proof of what he has witnessed. He is relentless, silent and calculating; he and his camera are always focused, trying to get the shot, even if that means risking smoke inhalation by approaching a burning building.
His relentless is exemplified by his thorough, up-close, invasive documentation of the grief and misery of families, friends and communities who have lost loved ones or are suffering themselves. For example, early in the movie, Nachtwey is in a village in Kosovo during the height of the region’s conflicts. He pursues an elderly woman as she discovers her home in ruins. He follows her, stops to take a few pictures of her from afar or in front of her face and continues moving with her throughout what used to be her house. She seems too distressed to care he may be invading her privacy, or she pretends Nachtwey is not hovering over her.
In Kosovo, he also takes pictures of a family mourning over the death of one of their own. Nachtwey documents everything from the dread that the young man has died, to the discovery of the body, to the arrival of his coffin at his family home. He quietly observes the scene and moves around the mourners to concentrate on the man’s mother. Nachtwey snaps photos as the woman in hysterics, beats her breast, calls out loudly and unable to stand on her own, leans on female family members behind her. His meticulousness again calls into question the appropriateness of his work in such situations and whether or not he even considers his subjects’ privacy.
Their nonchalance may be an expression of their desire to be left alone, however, Nachtwey firmly believes they are allowing him to cross over the usual lines of privacy and that they want him to be there documenting their pain. He explains he cannot take these photos without being welcomed, accepted or wanted by those suffering because they demand he show the world what is happening to them, to give them a voice they will never have. They understand he is there draw attention to their crises and send a message to the rest of the world; they support his purpose by granting him such exposure.
Nachtwey says he is never felt complete or satisfied with his work, possibly because of his greatest fear, profiting off someone’s misery. He gains grim satisfaction on bringing attention to devastating events. He does not want to be seen akin to a cold-hearted surgeon, says the foreign editor of Stern magazine interviewed in this documentary. Nachtwey says he tries to approach with respect for his subjects and their situation. He intentionally does not move fast, speak loudly or act openly, but they acknowledge him and with few to no words, permit him to work. He says he would not be able to overstep privacy lines if he did not work in war or other devastating scenes. War changes the rules because there are none. The chaos created by the absence of rules allows Nachtwey to chronicle this.
Nachtwey’s work appeals to humanity’s sense of right and wrong. We must look at these pictures, he says, we are required as humans. Nachtwey recognizes this need, and his response is to take pictures as proof to show the rest of the world in the hope that these photos will help prevent future suffering. He recognizes that his work at best can be a powerful ingredient to end war, not the solution.
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