Press on the right to go forward, on the left to go back, and F for full screen

Introduction by Daniel Caselli
Translated by Ted O’Callahan

The photos presented here are selected from the book In Black and White, which was published in Argentina in 2006. The project, based on an idea by photographer Pablo Cerolini in conjunction with Alexander Reynoso, was edited by Jorge Durán, Daniel Garcia, Pablo Lasansky, and Dani Yako. It brings together some of the most important images from the period between 1969 and 1985, and is dedicated to the victims of state terrorism. These pages document the Cordobazo (1969), the last military dictatorship (1976-1983), and the trials of the military juntas after the return to democracy (1985). Each stage is narrated through photographs and through words from key figures who lived through the historic events.

In Black and White includes texts from anthropologist Josefina Martinez, political scientist Jose Nun, journalist Maria Seoane, sociologist Carlos Altamirano, photographer Eduardo Longoni, graphic designer Gustavo Lo Valvo, and activist Estela de Carlotto.

The prologue is presented by Cerolini and Reynoso. “This book is a tribute to the photojournalists who were there to document the events and to capture the spirit of the time,” they write at the end of the introduction. This tribute to the photographers doesn’t exist on paper only; the proceeds from sales of In Black and White were, and continue to be, directed to the Association of Argentine Photojournalists (ARGRA) and the Abuelas of the Plaza de Mayo, an organization founded to assist with locating the children disappeared by the government during the Dirty War.

Nuestra Mirada understood that it was critical to include this historical moment in the magazine because of its irreversible impact on photography in Argentina and its consequences which live on, resonating in every corner of Argentine society.

Photographs and recollections by Pablo Cerolini and Alejandro Reynoso

This book focuses on the period of Argentine history that goes from the Cordobazo to the judgment of the juntas, a period that included the bloodiest years of the dictatorship, during which the violence of the state was unleashed in full force against political demonstrations by citizens. From our position as photojournalists we set out to find existing material produced by the profession that could provide testimony of those brutal events, documenting the slow buildup, the horrific consummation, and the epilogue that renewed long-frustrated hope.

Each of the western societies that lived through the horror of genocide during the 20^th century, through state terrorism and bloody dictatorships, at some point has had to confront that past, to bring to light what occurred and thereby to reconstruct history. In other words they have undergone the necessary process of making memory. Historical memory is not the product of sudden illumination but rather a slow and patient work of reconstruction. There are paradigmatic cases — the Nazi genocide is one — that have been and continue to be untiringly studied in an effort that has no end.

The violent repression of political, labor, and student organizations, and generally any sort of popular discontent, has been part of much of this country’s history. The Cordobazo represents a particularly visible instance of this recurrent practice. The state terrorism carried out by the last military dictatorship (1976-1983) took repression and political murder to a scale previously unknown.

The dictatorships were times of censorship and repression, and thus the mass media were objects of special control. Closings, censorship, and armed interventions were wielded regularly. The responses to these efforts were varied. Some practiced open support or direct collaboration; others adopted strategies of invisibility, seeking to not call attention to themselves.

Those of us who became photojournalists after that era were accustomed to hearing that there were no images from that time because the archives had been sacked. To a certain extent, this book arises from a desire to explore that assumption with the secret hope that it wasn’t true.

After long investigation we discovered that there was more material than had been assumed. In the middle of these events it wasn’t possible to understand their real dimensions, but photojournalists walked the streets, documented the facts, photographed corpses, and portrayed the faces of dictators as part of their daily work. Much of that material was never published. It was locked up in anonymous archives without any order.

In the photographs that appear in this book state terrorism is a presence — implicit or explicit — in most of the images, which forces us to create a memory of the facts. We aren’t allowed the luxury of drowning ourselves in nostalgia or pain but instead must construct a future that includes the memory, the punishment, the culpability.

This it is a book of photography, not a history book. That explains the fact that neither every event nor every significant person is included. Those who are included were captured by a photojournalist in a moment that encapsulates the events. These photographs help reconstruct the kaleidoscope of history.

The narrative formed from the photographs is accompanied by texts written by a variety of authors. The journalist Maria Seoane sees in these images an invitation to feel, to recall, to find relief in forgetting while also feeling the pain of identifying. The president of the Abuelas of the Plaza de Mayo, Estela de Carlotto, tells us what is still missing and what has been accomplished. She remembers the first moments of the fight: the uncertainty, pain, and fear. And that later, those who asked peacefully for their loved ones were backed up by images of intimidation and state terrorism. The photojournalist Eduardo Longoni emphasizes the challenge of those years, the necessity of putting his body on the line to get photos with real impact. Finally, a series of anecdotes told in first person by photojournalists who worked then lets us see what it meant to do the work.

The book could be read in several ways, two of which we want to emphasize here. On the one hand, it is a subjective book that chooses to show some images of an intense and tragic historical period. On the other, it tries to cast light without compromise on an objectively horrifying phenomenon: the state’s terrorism, from its earliest events until its final conclusion.

But above all, this book is a tribute to the photojournalists who were there to document the events and to capture the spirit of the time.

Tags: Buenos Aires city, history, human rights, photojournalism

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 22nd, 2009 at 03:20 and is filed under Galleries. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.