Born, from his mother’s womb: Andre Friedman October 22, 1913, Budapest, Hungary
We think that photographs are a reliability of memory. We misread them. They are statements that mediate between the what before the lens and the who behind the lens; between the what on the paper and the who of the beholder. This deconstructed elastic modulation of relationships provides us with a silvered mirror of history, a sense of context. Alex Kershaw’s Blood and Champagne: The Life and Times of Robert Capa chronicles the deconstructed life of the photojournalist who created defining images of the Spanish Civil War and World War II with the same artistry Capa used to erase then to recreate that life. Capa’s images are so deeply buried in our consciousness that when Steven Spielberg used them as the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan we thought how realistic the image. They were but we misunderstood that reality.
“A photograph is not the thing itself. Nor is it a painting. But that does not make either of them a copy. Each becomes a new thing, a new real, new in the world, a new original.”—J. M. Coetzee, Slow Man
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