Don McCullin’s thoughts on photography
Continuing with our new blog section 2-Consider, today I want to share some thoughts from a photographer that I recently found, Don McCullin. He is one of the best war photographers in history. His thoughts on human photography have made an impact on my vision as photographer.
In this post are some phrases that I found here and there…
Give these words time to “digest” in your souls and let us know your thoughts on this.
At the same time, if you are interested in McCullin’s work, you can see part of his bibliography here.
© Don McCullin All Rights Reserved
“What purpose did any of it actually serve?” he asked early on. “People talk about the [Nick Ut] photo of the Napalm girl and say it changed things but the Vietnam War went on for three years after that. What do these pictures do? What good do they do? I’m asking myself that question. I thought those pictures that I took – that I risked my life for – would do something. They were meant to be seen by politicians, by decision-makers”.
“I didn’t have to go to these places. I was the man who wanted to be there…who wanted to ram the pictures down your throat on a Sunday morning. Now when I think back at it I do not think it was worth the risk. I’m a terrible pessimist. I’ve come to think everything I did as a photographer was completely futile. I cannot allow myself to feel celebrated…not for any of those images.”
“Today we have the Iraq war and Afghanistan. And we’ve got this silly word ‘embedded’, which makes me think of taking your dog for a walk on a lead. You’re not even allowed to get close to anything like I did in Vietnam. The pictures I and others took then would be totally impossible now. But of course if I was a young photographer now I would still agree to go on an embed because I was so ambitious. Now I think the price is too high. There comes a time in life when you have to pull the plug on that. I was fortunate to be sacked by [then-Sunday Times editor] Andrew Neil – he allowed me to save my life and prevent my own destruction.”
“What I would consider my self-portrait, if I had to, would be the Irish tramp who looks like Neptune. Because of his melancholy, his dignity. It is difficult to associate the word “dignity” with conditions such as I photograph, yet dignity is what I try to show. I find it most in the people who suffer the most, they seem to marshal the energy of dignity, because they will not surrender. Like the Biafran mother with the child at her breast, you cannot imagine a more dignified human being.”
“I feel that person’s pain and I transfer it onto myself. When people look at me as if to say : “Help me” and they can’t speak because their jaw is shattered, I try to respond with my eyes, I make my eyes say : “I hear you, I see you, I wish I could help you”. But at the same time I am photographing them and I feel shabby, I know that, instead of helping, I am an unnecessary burden to them. I also know that, more often than not, the people I photograph will die, because whatever help may come will be too late.”
