{"id":6568,"date":"2021-04-09T09:52:07","date_gmt":"2021-04-09T13:52:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/?p=6568"},"modified":"2025-08-24T11:07:54","modified_gmt":"2025-08-24T15:07:54","slug":"the-photographs-that-trapped-history-in-a-filmstrip","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/2021\/04\/09\/the-photographs-that-trapped-history-in-a-filmstrip\/","title":{"rendered":"The Photographs That Trapped History in a Filmstrip"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Any prospective or aspiring photographers or photojournalists seeking inspiration need look no further than the Pulitzer Prize winning photos themselves. Collectively, they\u2019re practically the professions\u2019 Bible. Moments in time are fleeting, and history seems to be passing us by wherever we look. But tonight, just for the 10 minutes it will take to read this, you may relive life through the eyes of others: other ambitious and brave visionaries who have spent their lives working to inspire people very much like you. Let their triumphs guide you in your own pursuit of the powerful.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Consider, first, Iwo Jima: a dormant Japanese volcanic mass surrounded by clear blue oceans. World War II is nearly over and done. The soldiers are exhausted and embedded journalist for Associated Press, Joe Rosenthal, is determined to get a good shot. During wartime, there are no second chances for photographers. Joe struggles up the mountainside, but Marine photographer Louis Lowery informs him that the small makeshift flag has already been raised on the side of the island (and that its raisers have been shot at by the Japanese, now aware of American presence). Lowrey had broken his camera diving for cover.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Iwo Jima.<\/p><\/div>\n

Rosenthal refused to accept that this iconic moment was now lost, and he continued climbing. Upon reaching the glorious summit, he took notice of a group of men getting ready to raise a second, much larger flag, newly delivered from a massive American battleship \u2013 they wanted to see it from the water. This was his chance. His eyesight was poor, but he raised his camera, clicked a single shot and prayed for the best outcome possible. And he got it – not just a beautiful image, but a Pulitzer winner. Ensconced in a clouded grey mass, six soldiers work together in harmony to plant the symbol of victory among the wreckage surrounding them. It flutters triumphantly in the wind, knowingly.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Or perhaps Saigon, 1969. A dilapidated city lane lined with desolated buildings sits dormant as a group of South Vietnamese and American soldiers escorts a handcuffed prisoner out onto the street. His worn flannel shirt and shorts are torn, and he looks as though he hasn\u2019t slept in days. His hair is disheveled. He looks as defeated as he feels. Eddie Adams, embedded journalist, immediately reaches for his camera as a Vietnamese man immediately reaches for his pistol. Eddie knows to photograph the prisoner until he\u2019s out of sight, but this prisoner never would get\u2013 Eddie snaps several shots quickly. The man aims his pistol at the prisoner\u2019s temple, just five inches from the barrel and pulls the trigger. Eddie snaps the shot just as the bullet is discharged. The frame captures the prisoner\u2019s expression: eyes shut tightly, body leaning away from the gun instinctively, but showing no sign of emotion, as if he has accepted it. The man holding the gun, back to the camera, doesn\u2019t even flinch. His side profile appears indifferent to the murder he\u2019s committing, as if it\u2019s routine. A soldier in the background smiles, looking onward.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Trang Bang, 25 miles west of Saigon. The Vietnam War is raging. South Vietnamese planes, loaded with napalm (a sticky, flammable, petrol-based gel), fly low over the land, raining fire down on the enemy they share with the United States: Communist powers. But one plane misses. Embedded journalist for Associated Press, Nick Ut (Huynh Cong), watches in horror as the allied residential village he was photographing becomes a terror scene. The napalm burns away women and children\u2019s clothing and outer layers of skin in mere moments. Screams and thick smoke fill the air. The streets are wet. The survivors swarm toward him, arms outstretched and mouths gaping, begging for help. One 9-year-old girl, Kim Phuc, is completely naked. It is suddenly explicitly clear to Ut what has happened: she has gotten the worst of the napalm. Her eyes are clenched and her body is patched and bleeding. She is perhaps no further away than seven feet when he decided to snap the photo. \u201cShe said, \u2018Too hot, please help me.\u2019\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a> He drops his camera and pours water all over her, then rushes her to the nearest hospital in his own personal vehicle. The photo is later recovered and goes on to win a Pulitzer Prize in 1973, before ending the war itself shortly after in 1975. Ut credits this to the inherent empathy people have for children and how many adults can visualize their own children in similar situations. The fact that the girl wasn\u2019t even the enemy could only help the case.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And what of a simple high school in Chicago–1982?\u00a0 John White\u2019s Pulitzer photos may lack the shock value of wartime images, but they have an irreplaceable timelessness to them. A young teenage boy sprints past onlookers and parents in long overcoats. This inner-city school doesn\u2019t have a track–this kind of meet is all he knows. He shoots them a quick glance, making a tight corner around a ceiling support beam. His mouth is open, gasping for air, and his muscles are visually strained. His right leg has landed on the tile floor below his feet with intensity, forming a hard 90-degree angle. His arms maintain the same pose. He could be any teenage runner. Within minutes, he\u2019ll probably be in the same hall he\u2019s leaving in the dust now, discussing the indoor meet with his teammates, congratulating them on a race well run. And in 20 years, his son may look back on these photos and see himself in them. These Chicago schools and kids may not have a lot of money, but they do have a lot of heart and determination.\u00a0 And White has captured it.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And finally, the Tanzanian border, 1998.\u00a0 Martha Rial sits with a group of Burundian refugees who have successfully made the trip across. They have just arrived and are seeking immediate medical attention. A young woman in tattered clothes carries her newborn baby on her back.\u00a0 He is only 4 months old. He is severely malnourished, and his eyes are filled with fear. Veins protrude around his forehead. Rial snaps the photo. She is fascinated by the children and their parents and believes that putting a human face on migration changes the international conversation around these victims. No child that young should have seen things that could elicit that expression.\u00a0 Rial knows this, and she knows it will influence people. And it did. The photo won a Pulitzer shortly afterward.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0These photos were all more than deserving of their place in history. The Pulitzer is a great journalistic honor, and for any winner, it\u2019s a moment that will live in their memory the same way that their photos will live in eminence. LIFE Magazine wrote it best: \u201c<\/span>To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of life.\u201d And that is exactly what these images have captured. What better exemplars could we ask for?<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Any prospective or aspiring photographers or photojournalists seeking inspiration need look no further than the Pulitzer Prize winning photos themselves. Collectively, they\u2019re practically the professions\u2019 Bible. Moments in time are fleeting, and history seems to be passing us by wherever we look. But tonight, just for the 10 minutes it will take to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":228,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7381],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6568","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-archives","et-doesnt-have-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6568","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/228"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6568"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6568\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8291,"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6568\/revisions\/8291"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6568"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6568"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.umpi.edu\/utimes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6568"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}