It’s always tricky to talk about big events while they’re still in progress — it’s the first draft of history, and all those similar cliches. But the worldwide Black Lives Matter protests after the murder of George Floyd do feel different in this moment. I don’t know what will stick, what overdue changes might push through the status quo until the next horrible distraction arrives. But it’s clear to me that power is never freely given by the powerful; it’s only taken by the oppressed as a consequence of the instability created by injustice.
Photography is historically one of the tools we use to force people to confront that oppression — I’ve often heard it said that photojournalism is crucial in the moment “so at least people can’t say they didn’t know what was happening.” I don’t know how much I believe that anymore — I think, to an extent, many people believe what they can justify. But it’s clear that the only reason George Floyd’s murder has caused millions of people to take to the streets is that the horrible crime itself was visually documented.
Photojournalism’s historical prescription of “objectivity” is a fig leaf, of course. Objectivity is itself context-dependent on individual perspectives. We choose where to point the camera, and when, and at whom. In this moment, where horrible actions are shown to be systemic, we need photographers to show us their perspective of what’s happening. A perspective that hews to their truth, complicated as it may be.
I’ve spoken with many photographers about covering this month’s protests, and several folks around the state have kindly chosen some work to share here. I want to share their thoughts as well, in their own words — that’s more than enough gloss from me.
Let’s start with Beth Nakamura of The Oregonian and OregonLive:
“Journalism practices and culture are undergoing radical change, and I’m not even talking about the economics of it.”
“I am trying to be more reflective than reflexive in my approach. On the ground that means more conversations about what it all means and where people are in that and less conversations about constitutional protections afforded journalists. On the ground it is very humane. Online it is not. I think of myself as a photojournalist working in community. That for me means covering people I live alongside. It means not parachuting in looking to confirm pre-existing biases. It means reflecting back to the community what is happening in a way that accurately shows the dimension and humanity of it. And trying to do that in a way that is both fair and truthful. I don’t feel ethically compromised in any way by this. That’s a conversation for Twitter #journalism. In real life journalism it’s much more humane, much more personal.”
“What I’m saying here is not specific to any one photograph I offer you here. But it is the essential conversation and it’s happening now.”
From Mariah Harris in Portland:
“It’s been overwhelming juggling a million plates at once. Here’s a couple of my favorite photos. So far, this has been 400 years on the making of pain. It’s so powerful to be able to document history. The fact we are still going daily is so empowering.”
“In 2 of the photos majority were laying on the ground or kneeling for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. The other 2 are from the group of protestors making their way. You can see a person handing out roses, a young girl in the middle of screaming “black lives matter” with such passion. I have about 20 favorites but had to choose a random 4 to send. It’s so hard to even choose my favorites as so many of these photos speak volumes.”
From Brian Hayes, newly hired at the Statesman Journal in Salem:
“I was on my fifth day of work at the Statesman Journal when I was teargassed for the first time.
“With the recent killing of George Floyd, protests and riots had taken place all over the country. In Salem, we had a somber vigil. The tone of the whole event was sadness, grieving. Sad for a life unjustly–and very publicly–taken away. It was a far cry from what was happening in other cities, including Portland and Eugene that night. By the second night a small group of demonstrators had gathered at the Capitol to protest police brutality, and a few blocks away a heavily armed group felt the need to protect select businesses from possible looting. I went and spoke and photographed both groups.
“As it got darker the group at the Capitol grew. They began peacefully marching. They’d pass Glamour Salon, the headquarters of the armed civilian militia. As the protesters would pass by, the armed group would take a defensive posture, flip on the lights at the ends of their barrels, uncover the optics mounted the rails of their rifles. While crouching to make a photo, I was instructed to ‘not stand in the line of fire.’ The gravity of that isn’t lost on me. I was downrange from a caliber of machine that could deconstruct all the pink and red bits inside me, with just the twitch of a finger. I made the photo anyway and then asked him for his name for my caption. He declined.”
“The group marched past maybe three or four times. The tension ebbing and then intensify, then low tide again. As it ebbed to its lowest point, the armed group were making coffee and beer runs. I decided it was a good point to head home. This surely was the anticlimactic conclusion. Called my editor, let her know that not much else was happening and I was headed home.
“I could hear it before I saw it. At the steps of the Capitol, I came to the largest, unruliest group I had seen yet. This wasn’t the peaceful protesters marching and holding signs. This was an angry, young mass rumbling and thrashing against anything that offered any resistance. Walking through the group to find out what was going on and get my bearings, I saw fist fights breaking out, people getting jumped and swarmed. It was chaos.
Without any prompting the group of a few hundred started towards downtown, I followed while on the phone with my editor again, letting her know I can’t go home yet. A couple blocks away they walked directly into a wall of militarized police. I start making photos, trying not to get hit by bottles and fireworks from one side or rubber bullets from the other. I used a fortunately — or unfortunately for the vehicle’s owner — placed car as cover. A few of the peaceful protesters were trying to urge the unruly wave of people to calm down and be peaceful. It wasn’t going to happen. The crowd had started to throw large artillery shell style fireworks at the unwavering police line.”
“The little metallic canister popped about 6 feet away from where I was. I didn’t really know what it was. When it clicked in my head, I didn’t think it was real. Then the noxious gas started to burn my sunburn from Memorial Day weekend. Then my eyes, nose, throat and everything else. My legs, without the help my brain, carried me away from the cloud. Teargas is VERY unpleasant, albeit very effective for dispersing a large crowd. The crowd, en masse, had been pushed back to the Capitol. By the time I regained my composure and could see, I was behind the advancing police line and unable to make photos from the thick of it. I decided to walk back downtown to see what was happening there. Pockets of protesters had the same idea and started to clash with the armed groups. I just continued to make photos. Document everything that seemed meaningful at 6400+ ISO.
It was just more chaos. The police formed another line and was pushing the smaller groups directly towards the Glamour Salon stronghold.
“It had all but died down by 2:30 a.m. when I finally went home to let my adrenaline dump.
Looking back, I didn’t do much thinking after the shit fit the proverbial fan. I just shot. I tried to keep my head down and make photos to document what was happening. I don’t even remember feeling scared, or anxious or even calm. I remember the feeling of that burn. I remember my head hurting, but not sure if it was from the teargas or the shrill of the crowd control sirens. I just did what I knew I was supposed to. My cameras were on manual mode, but I was on automatic. I just shot and hoped it was sharp and exposed.”
From Chris Pietsch of the Register-Guard in Eugene:
“I have been working as a photographer for over 40 years and I still find myself witnessing new, crazy and inspiring things to photograph. I started out 2020 dealing with a global pandemic, adjusting to working remotely and suffering through furloughs. Then just when all of that started to ease up, George Floyd was senselessly killed by police officers in Minneapolis, Minnesota.”
“Friday night a couple weeks ago I covered a violent protest that left several businesses in Eugene looted and destroyed. Two days later I witnessed the biggest protest march I have ever seen in Eugene. Later that week at the end of yet another demonstration and march by hundreds of protesters through the streets of Eugene, demonstrators gathered in front of the Lane County Jail. There, one after another, members of the Black community took the microphone to call out fellow protestors for not listening to their true concerns and co-opting the protest. A young woman shared her dismay at watching the protest the night before turn into a dance party. ‘That man could have been my father,’ she said of Floyd’s death.”
“I am running out of superlatives and admit that I am still processing some of the events of the last few weeks. But here are some of my photographs. Please follow The Register-Guard’s coverage at www.registerguard.com or follow me on Instagram or Twitter @chrispietsch.”
From Jonathan House of the Portland Tribune and Pamplin Media:
“[This is from the] march over the Morrison Bridge to the SW Waterfront, and eventually the Justice Center. I had trouble picking an image because I have photography from various situations and settings, and I didn’t feel that there was one photo that wrapped up what Portland is experiencing right now during all of these protests for racial justice. Instead, I wanted to go with an image that I keep coming back to and thinking about. For me it’s about the passion I see in their eyes, which is something their face masks can’t hide. This had been one of many marches that has started from Revolution Hall (on the east side of the Willamette River) that would then wind back around, over a bridge, to downtown. On this particular day, the sun was setting and crowd was huge. I remember walking towards the Morrison Bridge from the west side, and I could hear the crowd before seeing it. Once on the bridge, I was blown away by the sheer size of the demonstration, with the column of marchers trailing off into the distance.”
“At the front of the march was a line of young activists locking arms. In front of them, in back of a moving pickup truck were organizers from Rose City Justice keeping the spirit high over a bullhorn. I’ve covered a lot of protests and marches in Portland over the last decade, but this was the one had the strongest, most visceral impact on me, by virtue of both its size and energy.”
From Jeremy Williams, a student photographer at the University of Oregon:
“The first [two photos] are from a silent protest and were my first time shooting professionally in lowlight, so I was nervous how they came out. The [next photos are from] my first protest I covered by myself and the protesters were pretty polite about my presence, if not a little on edge.”
“Its been a little tricky covering the protesters because they stress that they don’t want to be identified by the media, but it’s my impression that I (and all media around the protests) are important. It’s a movement that needs to be covered and I say that as Black person and a Journalist.”
And from Craig Mitchelldyer in Portland:
“The afternoon of June 4th my high school aged daughter said she wanted to go down to the protest and march. I loved that this was something she wanted to do and was more than happy to take her down there. We took the train downtown and then walked a couple miles up to where the march started. As we were starting to join other protesters I looked over and just happened to see Damian Lillard.”
“He wasn’t there for attention. He didn’t want anyone to notice him. He just wanted to march. I took a few photos at various points, trying to stay out of the way to let him do his thing. After a while I thought I had some decent images that the world might want to see so I called my editor at the AP and asked if they’d want them for the wire. They did and it was already 8pm and my computer was at home. Luckily I was able to file some images directly from the camera and she grabbed them and captioned them and filed them for me on the other end to meet any early deadlines.”
“I had no intention of working. I was there for the movement, but I am glad I brought a camera (It’s the journalist in me) and I am even more glad that my daughter Jordyn was able to participate and learn something. I think that just like we hire sports photographers to cover sports, I think we should be hiring Black photographers to cover these protests. They should be documented through the eyes of the people who know the pain more than I ever possibly could. Often times, we white people take for granted and don’t even think about situations where we put ourselves first. An example of this came this night at this protest. At one point, the march stopped and the leaders asked that the white people step out of the front, move towards the back and let the people of color move up. It, of course, makes perfect sense – but as I white person its not something I even considered. Not because I think white people should be in the front but because I didn’t see a problem with it and it made so much sense. Why should a white person be in the front of this protest? Why should white photographers be the ones assigned to cover this protest? It’s not just the huge and obvious things that we all know are racist, its the little things that we need to pay attention to. It’s the little things we need to listen for. It’s the things our fellow Americans are telling us and we don’t even think about and we need to hear them. I love what I am seeing and I hope the protests do not stop until real change and real progress is made. Until then, this will be the only day I shoot protest pictures and instead I will promote and lift up the voices of my fellow creatives whose images need to be seen much more than mine.”
