Photo history is a long litany of the lost and found. Reputations rise and fall; trends and tools come and go. A photographer might be the toast of the town for a time, then fall into oblivion a few short years later. William Mortensen, anyone? The opposite of Mortensen might be someone like Mike Disfarmer or Vivian Maier who bursts onto the scene from nowhere and is quickly integrated into the canon. Critical variance seems more the rule than the exception, and the pace of that variance has only increased of late as we plunge further into the end-times.
The Hermitage Artist Retreat and its partner, the Greenfield Foundation, are presenting their first Greenfield Prize in the art of photography to internationally acclaimed photojournalist David Burnett
This special Business of Editorial Photography Panel Discussion features some of the best photographers on the planet: David Bergman, David Burnett, Al Tielemans, Rob Tringali, and via Skype, Robert Seale. Moderated by PhotoShelter's Allen Murabayashi, th
To be a photographer in this age, you have to really WANT to do it. Don’t do it just because you can’t think of anything else to do. Go to workshops, and perhaps more important, use your library and even the web to find work which inspires you. One of the things which I find so disconcerting is that very few young photographers today can tell you who the photojournalists of note were in the 50's, 60's, and 70's. I fear there is a certain kind of self-validation which shooting/seeing immediately engenders
How important are personal photography projects to distinguishing your voice? And will a project on the side help catch the eye of your dream client? In our guide, The Inspiration Handbook: 50 Tips from 50 Photography Trailblazers, we got advice from Davi
For nearly 50 years, David Burnett has been traveling and documenting the world – much of it on film. While most of the photojournalism world has shifted to using digital photography exclusively, Burnett stubbornly continues to carry around a Speed Graphi
If you haven’t noticed, we’re surrounded by photography. We not only consume copious amounts of photography through social media and everywhere else online, but we’re just as likely to create photos on a daily basis – whether it’s with our DSLRs or phones
I am not saying that there is no good to be had from the new technologies. Far from it. The new cameras let us make pictures that were never even imaginable a dozen years ago. But in all of that, in the rush to bestow the crown of technical achievement upon the head of digital photography, I think we risk losing a piece of the soul of all our work. And whatever each of us can do as individuals to get beyond the norm, the expected, the predictable, and the obvious that is what photography in the new century demands of us.
There just didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day that I could manage so that the work load of both shooting and file management was done with confidence and competence. In addition, I was exhibiting signs of retrograde camera envy. Besides the digital cameras at hand, I wanted to shoot with my 1940s Speed Graphic, a beautiful old beast of a press camera, with a 1943 aerial recon camera lens on it. I have shot with this camera for a decade, and find that when I look into its amazing viewfinder, I see things I just miss with my digi cams. The old lens, long and fast, sees the world in a very different way than the Canons, and in many ways IS a perfect foil for the smaller more agile counterparts. First, it uses Film. There is no practical affordable digital back for a 4×5” camera at least not yet, and frankly I kind of hope no one develops one anytime soon. There is, in the use of film, film holders, and a semi ancient camera, something very satisfying, very “I have to get this in ONE shot,” something very, shall we say, Romantic.
David Burnett has photographed seven summer Olympics, creating a few iconic images along the way. In conversation, he remembers the misses and triumphs, and discusses his commitment to a different picture as London’s games approach.
On the 40th anniversary of the famous “napalm girl” picture that changed the tide in the Vietnam war, another photographer who was there and missed that picture reflects on the power of that image and on waiting for the moment.
It’s difficult to explain to someone who has grown up in the world of digital photography just what it was like being a photo-reporter in the all too recently passed era of film cameras. That there was, necessarily, a moment when your finite roll of film would end at frame 36, and you would have to swap out the shot film for a fresh roll before being able to resume the hunt for a picture. In those ‘in between’ moments, brief as they might be, there was always the possibility of the picture taking place. You would try to anticipate what was happening in front of your eyes, and avoid being out of film at some key intersection of time and place. But sometimes the moment just doesn’t wait. Photojournalism – the pursuit of story telling with a camera, is still a relatively young trade, but there are plenty of stories about those missed pictures. In the summer of 1972, I was a 25-year-old photojournalist working in Vietnam, where I spent two years trying to cover the events of that war. Some stories present themselves in more obvious ways than others, but as the U.S. began winding down direct combat roles and encouraging Vietnamese fighting units to take over the battle, there were moments when trying to tell that story presented enormous challenges.