By Kenny Irby
Group Leader, Visual Journalism
On a bright, brisk December morning three teachers in a rented SUV toured the wind and water ravaged “Big Easy”.
It was some 108 days after Katrina, and no single photograph or video clip could capture the depth of damage.
I have always felt that journalists, particularly photojournalists, must journey to places and witness things that others cannot or will not ever see.
Over the past three months, several visual reporters commenting on their experiences covering Katrina and the aftermath have said to me, “You just won’t understand.”
So there we were in New Orleans last week – in the back seat was Bob Steele, Nelson Poynter Scholar for Journalism Values, driving was Poynter dean and New Orleans native Keith Woods, with me in the passenger’s seat up front navigating and offering instructions: “Turn left, watch out for that pot-hole, stop here.” We weaved in and out of streets littered with rubble but void of working traffic signals. We got only sporadic glimpses of human life.
Although most of the people were gone, stark remnants remained: overturned, abandoned vehicles, ice-like putrid mud, toxic mold, toothpick-like piles of ruins stretching as far as the eye could see.
As the visual journalism group leader and founder of the photojournalism program at Poynter, I’m no stranger to tragedy and trauma. I have witnessed death up close and personal on numerous occasions. Yet this was different.
The visual journalist in me understands what courageous women and men, equipped with still and motion cameras, do in times of tragedy. They document the events of life, as the eyes of the community, so that others will better understand the challenges and events of life. They are the visual reporters who rush to the center of the storm and the places hardest hit, while others evacuate to higher ground in the opposite direction.
While they are not out to change the world, they do seek to present the realities that need to be seen — and expose them to the people who have the power and responsibility to make change happen.
Immediately after Katrina hit, I fielded numerous requests from photojournalists via cell phone, sat phone and email seeking guidance, coaching and inspiration. The callers also told me about their experiences.
While I listened attentively, I was prone to forget.
Within hours of Katrina’s landfall along the Gulf Coast, there were photographs — visual records — documenting the impact of this gargantuan natural disaster.
I viewed, edited and reviewed thousands of still photographs and hours of broadcast video coverage in the comfort of my living room and office desk. But as I tried last week to remember what I’d seen, even with the of best intentions, I could still only remember a small selection of images.
In New Orleans, on this gloriously illuminated day, the warm Louisiana sun beamed upon my friend and colleague Keith as he sifted through the worldly possession of his deceased father, Verdun P. Woods Sr. Later, as we stood on the Industrial Canal levee overlooking the wasteland stretching out before us, I began to discern the magnitude of destruction unleashed by Katrina.
I stood on the levee with Keith at my side, my body shuttered as I focused the camera. I made a mental note that I was standing in the very place that haunted me from Vincent LaForet’s photograph. Keith wept silently and my eyes filled with tears.
Being there at that moment was an involving experience that allowed me to understand.
Three unforgettable things happened to me during my three days in New Orleans:
1. I had the privilege of documenting my friend’s return to his home community and to his father’s home, collecting treasures, beginning the healing and facing the future.
2. As I stood upon the levees and witnessed the massive destruction of nature, I connected with survivors who had exhibited such indomitable tenacity.
3. I met six amazing visual reporters (you can call them photojournalists or news photographers if you prefer).
For the vast majority of people, being there is not an option. That is why journalists are afforded a great privilege and tremendous burden as eyes and ears of the world. Our words, images (pictures and graphics) and audio make up the authentic information that help others understand the world around them.
Six lessons learned from this trip:
• Photojournalists can suffer from tremendous survivors’ guilt and need the opportunities to share their experiences and begin to cope with the rigors of the job. Newsrooms must take this seriously.
• You can’t fully comprehend the story and communicate it without being there. Just ask the people who risk their lives to seek and report the truth of tragedy.
• Far too often we fail to plan at all in our newsrooms. Photographers are essential players in disaster coverage and must be integrated thoroughly in the planning process.
• You can never plan enough. Issues ranging from general safety to transportation and communications should be determined in advance and reviewed periodically.
• Photographers are some of the best reporters in times of chaos. Use them to gather quotes, confirm sources, examine story ideas and bridge connections.
• Spend time in reflection. To learn from the past, newsrooms must devote time to review and reconstruct their actions with an eye toward learning what worked and what can be improved.
So, to Keith Woods and the visual journalists who took part in our conference in New Orleans — Ted Jackson, Arthur Lauck, Dominic Martin, Matt Stamey, Rick Hannon and Neil Giurintano — thanks for teaching me through your experiences.
