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From the darkness of the soul

Internationally, he is considered a legend, but in Norway few have heard of war photographer Stanley Greene, who died earlier this year.




(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)

How to live a normal life after covering the cruelest acts of war?

One of the last days of Film from the South Festival in Oslo is shown Last Men in Aleppo by director Feras Fayyad. It is almost incomprehensible that the city I visited in November 2008 is now in ruins. At that time, I experienced a warmth in Aleppo's residents that I see again in the critically acclaimed documentary, where we come close to "The White Helmets" – a group of men trying to save civilians after air strikes. Last Men in Aleppo is a unique portrayal of fellowship and presence in a terrible day of war with daily loss of someone you love.

Stanley Greene, AFP Photo / Valery Hache

The ability to see. Like the film's director, the recently deceased photographer Stanley Greene has portrayed the situation in Aleppo throughout the war years. Both show the ability to truly see the people they portray by taking them and their life situation seriously. Photography and film are powerful mediums that directly affect our emotional lives without going through the possible pitfalls of words. Intelligence, a present and committed heart and – most importantly – a humane attitude are needed to create a good image, Greene said.

From 1989 until his death, the photographer delivered the latest news from the world's war-torn countries to American and European newspaper readers. He left to others to cover the more comfortable sides of existence; he himself would point the camera at the darkest room of the soul. Green's images are raw and direct, but not only that. Many also have something poetic, or carry on a story. Green's knowledge of painting is clearly present in many of the images. The photographer also provided strong portraits of women in war, especially from Chechnya, whom he knew well after working in the country for a decade. "Every time I was offered a job in Chechnya, I was ready to go in no time," he writes in the book Black Passport (2010)

To give back. Greene (1949–2017) was born in New York, as a child of politically active actress parents. As a young man, he joined the civil rights group Black Panthers, which fought for African Americans like himself to gain increased rights in the United States. Through his then-girlfriend he was introduced to photographer legend W. Eugene Smith, who recommended him to study photography. After graduation, Greene traveled to Paris, which became his base until he died. In the 80s, he worked as a fashion photographer, but the death of AIDS to a friend and recalling his mentor's words about the importance of giving back led Greene to change course and devote his life to photojournalism.

"The circle ended when I died for myself."
Stanley greene

For the next ten years when Greene worked in Chechnya, among other things, he knew of every war photographer's dilemma: How to live a normal life after covering the most gruesome acts of war? Having witnessed dramatic events, a life back in the ordinary fort can seem superficial and meaningless. The stresses and tensions – like those in Goma – settle in the spinal cord. Pictures and memories of corpses in decay haunt you.

Greene struggled with bad conscience every time he was amused, and would not talk about what he had seen – but closed down. Eventually he still managed to calm down and accept what the world was like. He began to play with the idea of ​​a normal life, of getting married, having children. But then he went to Falluja, Iraq, in March 2004.

From the Paul-Dupuy Museum in Toulouse, June 2017 during the Toulouse photo festival. AFP PHOTO / ERIC CABANIS

Another situation. When he arrived in Fallujah, four American contractors from the company Blackwater were killed the same morning. While Greene was present as one of very few Western journalists, the bodies were set on fire. The people around stood almost as one does around a barbecue, waiting for food. Some began cutting into the dead bodies to obtain souvenirs. What were the locals thinking, where some looked away, others smiled? That the Americans had got what they deserved? The burnt bodies were once living people; now they were nothing. How did Greene and his colleagues handle situations like this? And what about people who grow up in such conditions? How young are they when they "die" emotionally? Can they avoid becoming numb, immune to events where human life has no value? Greene photographed without emotion, he said himself, concerned with composing the images correctly. The pictures were sent home – they were exclusive and he made good money on them. "The circle ended when I died for myself." His pictures were too long to be printed in the morning newspaper – maltreated American corpses are not shown for breakfast.

Intelligence, a present and committed heart, and – most importantly – a humane attitude are needed to create a good image, Greene said.

What can we do? One of Greenes Fallujah photos is printed in Michael Chamber's book Photojournalists on War. The Untold Stories from Iraq (2013), with interviews and photos of 39 Iraqi photographers. The otherwise silent war witnesses here describe what working conditions war reporters live under, in wars without front lines and with bloody actions in the midst of ordinary people. Greene says that working conditions have changed a lot from 1989 until today. "In the beginning we were romantics, but you can no longer romanticize the Taliban and Hezbollah [They] have their own agenda and can turn emotionally in no time."

Stanley Greene was active until recently. In April – the month before he died – he left for northern Russia to begin a project on the 100th anniversary of the Russian Revolution.

Kaisa Ytterhaug
Kaisa Ytterhaug
Ytterhaug is a freelancer in Ny Tid.

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