2021:50 Koudelka Shooting Holy Land

There is no shortage of videos on YouTube that feature photographers out in the world, taking pictures. Many…too many… feature young, hipsters shooting film. These videos are one of the reasons that the aftermarket for old, analogue cameras has exploded over the past few years. What was once old equipment that no one wanted is now commanding ridiculous prices on Ebay. If there is a new YouTube video released featuring an up-until-then obscure camera, the price immediately starts creeping up. But the curmudgeon in me has to also tip my hat to these neophytes, since they are truly the ones keeping film photography off of life support.

I prefer my vicarious photo shooting viewing to be centered on masters of the medium. There is one film in particular that I’ve been wanting to see for some time. The movie is called Koudelka Shooting Holy Land. I’ve been waiting to see if it would pop up somewhere for free, but alas, I finally caved and dropped 10 bucks to stream it at home. Was it worth it? Absolutely. It is an often quiet meditation on the challenges of finding inspiring subject matter, and approaching it with a critical, yet compassionate eye. Koudelka shot the areas in Israel that are the meeting points between Palestinian lands and Jewish settlements. The photos resulted in an amazing book from a few years back that I’ve written about previously, titled Wall. It was a joy to watch him wander through environments that at one turn were mundane, and at another, quite tense. Koudelka navigates it all with a world weary resignation that I found charming and inspiring.

Some of the most compelling moments in the film occur when Koudelka navigates the hyper-security measures in place at border crossings and checkpoints. For a photographer who first came to prominence documenting the Soviet invasion of his native Czechoslovakia in 1968, he is no stranger to working in challenging situations. Yet most of Koudelka’s interactions with the authorities amount to mostly gruff but docile harassment from military people who are more concerned with threats of violence and not an old man with a panoramic camera. Still, hearing a voice shout from a watchtower as he sets up a few of his shots is enough to give me concern for his safety. Yet Koudelka slowly, deliberately continues his work, unfazed and unintimidated by the powers that keep watch over a complicated mix of politics and differences in faith, all while adding to the tension and division that the photographer himself is quietly, critically assessing. If you get the chance, spend the 10 dollars and watch a master at work.

2019: 33 (Josef Koudelka: Wall)

This year I have been making a concerted effort to expand my photo book library by purchasing at least one publication per month. Thanks to a great sale at Aperture, I recently received “Wall” by Josef Koudelka. This mammoth book is a powerful commentary on human intolerance, lack of compassion and our misguided need to separate ourselves from others.

What first struck me about the book is its physical size, and the huge typographical “WALL” on the front cover. Upon opening the book, it is easy to see why it was printed in such a manner. Koudelka’s photographs are all panoramic, and the book format is an appropriate size to let the images come to life as full double page spreads. This choice of format matches the subject matter spot on. Koudelka’s images were created in the Holy Land, and all focus on the barrier between Israeli and Palestinian territories. Most of the barrier is an impenetrable cement wall, but there are also scenes of barbed wire, observation towers and security checkpoints. And although there are images of physical barriers, we also see scenes that depict a vast psychological barrier between two lands, two peoples. This is all complicated, and any discussion is sure to take an emotionally charged turn, but as an artist, Koudelka brings us to a place that we can ponder and explore our own feelings of this place, and perhaps draw our own conclusions.

One thing that struck me quite quickly when I was flipping through the book was that lack of actual people in the photographs. With so many manmade structures… the walls, the wire, the barriers, roadblocks, the graffiti, the fencing, the abandoned dwellings… there is a huge void of actual humanity in these images. And it is that statement right there that finally sunk in. These are stark images of human division; of course we see very few actual humans in the pictures.

Another powerful component to the photographs is the depiction of nature. In many images, we see olive trees that have been destroyed, or moved, replanted… or simply abandoned in the no man’s land surrounding the walls. The abuse of the olive tree, so critical to the subsistence of human life (and commerce) in this region, is emblematic of the abuse and inhumanity we can inflict on each other. There are also numerous images that peer beyond the wall, or to the edges of human settlements, where the hills and the desert reinforce their presence, showing perhaps that even as we construct out barriers, nature will have the final say.

Photo by Josef Koudelka / Magnum Photos

While spending time with “Wall” I could not ignore the obvious connections with a wall so much closer to home. I live in New Mexico, and along our southern border there is the much discussed, much debated, highly polarizing border wall between the US and Mexico. I will set aside any overtly political discussion (i have my opinions, you have yours) but I must acknowledge the sobering thoughts this connection provokes in me. While the images in Koudelka’s book may be depressing to view, I have the luxury of distance from this reality. These photos were taken half a world way from me, in a place I have never been, and my opinion has been shaped by years of news accounts that can feed misperception or bias. Yet, a few hours south of where I sit right now, a similar barrier exists. A wall that separates human beings both physically and metaphorically. Why are we so good at building things that keep us apart, yet so poor at building understanding and empathy?

Worth A Thousand Words: Josef Koudelka

This is the second installment of the new weekly series on my blog, where I intend to take a closer look at iconic photographs, and write 1000 words about each. For those readers who have returned after last week’s entry about Diane Arbus, I say “thank you.” And to those new readers… welcome. I hope you find this exercise as interesting and as thought provoking as I do. I encourage you to leave any comments at the end of this entry. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

This week I will discuss this fantastic image by Josef Koudelka, “Czechoslovakia 1966. Straznice. Festival of gypsy music.” First some background information on the artist himself. From the Magnum Photos website:

“Josef Koudelka, born in Moravia, made his first photographs while a student in the 1950s. About the same time that he started his career as an aeronautical engineer in 1961 he also began photographing Gypsies in Czechoslovakia and theater in Prague. He turned full-time to photography in 1967. The following year, Koudelka photographed the Soviet invasion of Prague, publishing his photographs under the initials P. P. (Prague Photographer) for fear of reprisal to him and his family. Koudelka left Czechoslovakia for political asylum in 1970 and shortly thereafter joined Magnum Photos.”

I believe so much can be gleaned from knowing the biographical details of a particular artist, and how these details affect their creative work. This is especially true when looking at the photographs of Koudelka. His history of challenging political oppression and his ultimate exile most definitely inform his work.

Which brings us to this specific photo. What do I see? I see a black and white photograph. It is a street scene. Most likely shot with a 35mm camera and a wide-angle lens, judging by the format of the framing and the wide view. It looks as though it was shot during some kind of public event or celebration, perhaps a parade or a festival. Without any previous information about the location, I would say that the location is either in Europe or possibly Central or South America. The appearance of the musicians looks vaguely Mediterranean, but they seem to be from somewhere different than the crowd of people behind them. The composition of the photo brings the attention of the viewer firstly to the three musicians in the foreground; two violinists and an upright bass player. The crowd that spreads out behind them fills most of the remaining frame, and most of the people seem to be looking off at another situation, not paying attention to the three musicians that have caught Koudelka’s eye. Lastly, I keep studying the crooked tilt of the lines of the building in the far background. The lack of alignment with the edge of the film frame is creating a feeling of unease in my mind. Now, to dive deeper into the main subjects of the photo. The three musicians have a striking difference of appearance. They do not appear to be related to each other. The man on the far right is darker skinned than the others, and he is resting his chin on his instrument, revealing his amazing teeth in what looks like the beginnings of a smile. His eyes though, seem slightly lost in his own world, slightly introspective. The musician in the middle looks like an Italian to me, with his hair slicked back, and his causal white shirt slightly unbuttoned, collar tucked under his jacket. His hand on the neck of the bass is gripping delicately. His gaze, though. Looking directly at the viewer. He doesn’t look sad, but perhaps a bit tired? A trace of pride? A look of longing, but for what? Now we look at the musician on the left. Older than the other two men. Balding. Wrinkles visible around his eyes, mouth and across his forehead. A striped suit that does not match the wardrobe of the other two men; this is no formal band uniform. He looks as though he is in the middle of playing a piece of music, judging by the position of his hands and the bow on the strings of his violin. He is looking out of frame, either in his own world of the music, or looking as if he is lost in his own thoughts. It is striking to me that the three subjects of the photo seem not only disconnected from the crowd around them, but also disconnected from each other.

Why did Koudelka take this photograph? I think there is plenty of information within the image itself to answer this question. The three men, it turns out, are gypsy musicians. They are performing as part of a music festival in Moravia. The year is 1966, but to me, it looks like it could be at least a decade or more before that date. The musician’s are part of a transient population, and thus, do not have a specific homeland to call their own. By their appearance, they look as if they are together by circumstance, not bound by familial connections, or even a specific ethnic / geographic background, in my opinion. They are not part of the crowd that surrounds them. They are not the focus of the crowd’s attention, but certainly Koudelka felt a connection with them. Are they strangers in a strange land, as they appear to be? This must be the connection Koudelka felt when he took this picture. The photographer himself was exploring a theme that he most definitely was feeling himself. Relating to the rootless nature of the gypsy life, which he went on to document more deeply over the years that followed this photograph. And, of course, then Koudelka himself became an exile, a stranger in a strange land himself. Unmoored from his homeland, for what ended up being most of his life, to date. He, no doubt, related completely with the wandering artists he shows us here.

The work of Koudelka was a revelation for me when I first discovered it. It introduced me to another world, literally. Though my familial roots are European (Italian and Sicilian) my life in middle-class America is very different from the people and places that Koudelka shows. Imagining the lives of others, who are struggling beneath oppressive regimes, or are living a life on the margins of society for whatever reason, these photos expanded my world view, and are a lesson in empathy. From a more strictly photographic standpoint, the work of Koudelka is an inspiration to dive deep into the world, with a camera in hand, and try to see the things that are universal to all of us, regardless of where we live, what we own, or where we call “home.”