You might think that they are the same people: photojournalists and documentary filmmakers both use images to uncover and tell the human experience. But they are not the same. Just as German Shepherds differ from Bloodhounds – they may be the same species, but they ain’t the same breed.
After five days of bouncing between films and panel discussions at Hot Docs, my butt landed at a CONTACT interactive photo exhibit led by Magnum photographers. Just looking around the room, the differences between the two breeds began to contrast in my mind.
First of all, the location of the Magnum event was the Drake Underground – the basement event space at Toronto’s uber-hip and boutique Drake Hotel. Conversely, the location of the Hot Docs industry events were held at the Harry Potter-like antiquated buildings of the University of Toronto’s Victoria College. The chow of one dog was steak frites. the tender vittles of the other a greasy shawarma.
I was tired when I sat down. I was happy to have a pint of beer in my hand and sipping I thought: “this is the way to watch a screening.” The lights were dim and soft music played. As with Hot Docs audience, there was a buzz of excitement from the crowd. Here going to speak and exhibit were some of the world’s best photographers. Like a Hot Docs screening, every last seat was taken, and some agreed to standing room only.
As I sat there, waiting for my partner to arrive, I looked around me. What makes these two breeds different? Don’t they essentially work on the same material? For instance: kids as young as nine escaping Honduras by train to get to the United States for a “better” life; Haitians escaping their tumultuous nation by leaky home-made boat also aiming for a better life in the U.S. Who documented what? And would if matter if I told you? They do the same work I tell you.
But boy do they look and act different.
Photographers dress mainly in black. Their style is minimalist and functional but they exhibit something punk-rock – a leather cuff bracelet, heavy black boots, a stylish haircut. Documentary filmmakers’ garb is made up of one-of-a-kinds – at least the women. The men are just about the most un-sexiest bunch of professors and rumpled geeks you have ever seen. Photographers strike me as arrogant, selfish and pig-headed. Documentary makers are unfailingly socially-minded – but sometimes cross the line into self-righteousness. Ultimately, though, both are compassionate types prone to bluster because of the injustices in the world that provoke them so deeply they cannot live without recording them.
I can say this because I live and work with both of these breeds (my partner is on the Gardiner Expressway covering a major Tamil protest as I write.) They are part of my day-in-day-out. But of course, these are my own observations and I feel a little guilty to assume as I watch the slide shows and listen to the commentary. What finally confirms my conjectures is the photographers’ commentary: each of them (Peter Marlow, Christopher Anderson and David Allen Harvey) said “I do these stories to understand them for myself.” Which is intrinsically different than the documentary filmmaker, whose constant focus is getting the message out to the masses.
I’m not saying that their sentiments and approaches aren’t shared – I am certain that they are – but there are marked differences between the two and I think I have figured it out: both are harbingers yet one is a maverick while the other is a pilot.
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