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| Craig J. Barber, "Hope Is All There Was," 1997. |
Award-winning photojournalist Louie Palu, whose photographic collection Zhari-Panjwai: Dispatches from Afghanistan is on display at the 麻豆传媒 Art Gallery, resides in Washington, DC. The weather in Washington, he says, is stiflingly hot. The fact that the American heat bothers him at all comes as a surprise. Mr. Palu just spent three months in Afghanistan, and he will return to the war-torn country in two weeks. Surely the weather there will be much warmer?
鈥淚t鈥檒l be a hundred degrees,鈥� Mr. Palu agrees. 鈥淚t鈥檒l be really, really hot鈥� hot and dry and brutal. It鈥檚 an extremely unforgiving landscape鈥� Canadians are almost suited to it,鈥� he adds 鈥� in terms not of warmth, but sheer extremity of temperature.
Afghanistan鈥檚 weather is not its most dangerous feature. 鈥淲ith the troops, I was received very well,鈥� Mr. Palu says. 鈥�(Other) people shot at me. I would say they were people who did not receive me as well.鈥� He discusses his close shaves with surreal cool. 鈥淚鈥檓 not the only journalist to ever get shot at鈥� If there were 20 Taliban, and one was a journalist, and a firefight started鈥β� I don鈥檛 think anyone would say, 鈥楬ey, that guy鈥檚 a journalist. Don鈥檛 shoot him.鈥欌��
What are some of these elusive pieces? 鈥淒ifferent tribes, different languages, money, road-building鈥� there鈥檚 not even one road that connects the whole country.鈥� Mr. Palu鈥檚 photographs are displayed with an accompanying audio track of battle in Siah Choi. Between gunshots on the track, people yell, gasping breaths, speaking 鈥� in different languages 鈥� the lingua franca of fear.
Craig Barber was an 18-year-old Marine when he first stepped on Vietnamese soil. He returned to Vietnam as a photographer, in 1995鈥�30 years later. 鈥淢y return allowed me to understand who I was, and appreciate who I have become,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 was able to learn many aspects about the Vietnamese people鈥� that I knew nothing of while there (previously).聽 It was an incredibly cathartic experience.鈥� Mr. Barber has platinum-printed his suite of pinhole photographs. Invented in 1873, platinum-printing鈥攗ncommon in modern photography鈥攑roduces images which are extraordinarily long-lasting.
His聽photographs are cryptically named 鈥� in 鈥淭he Old Man Served Tea鈥� (1997), for instance, there is no old man and no tea. 鈥淢y titles usually reflect what was happening at the moment of the photo,鈥� says Mr. Barber, 鈥渂ut also speak to memories of my time there during the war.鈥�
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| Craig Barber embraces Louie Palu, as curator Alison Devine Nordstrom looks on. (Bruce Bottomley Photo) |
The human figures in Mr. Barber鈥檚 work are ghostlike, blurred (鈥淎lways Curious鈥� 1995) or double-exposed (The Gatherers鈥� 1998) into transparency. 鈥淲ith colour, you state, and with black and white, you suggest,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 feel my work leaves more to the imagination than it would if it were in colour鈥� I appreciate my audience鈥檚 intelligence, and anticipate their bringing that intelligence into the gallery and their desire to understand the mood of my work.鈥� His Vietnam is a Pacific dreamscape, radiating a tropical beauty shattered by broken village kilns (鈥淭he Kilns of Vinh Long鈥� 1998) and abandoned hotels (鈥淪apa Hotel鈥� 1997).聽
Craig Barber鈥檚 collection from Vietnam, in contrast with the immediacy of Mr. Palu鈥檚 work, is black-and-white, ethereal, and haunting. Yet what the two collections document is similar: the wars in Vietnam and Afghanistan have much in common. 鈥淓ach fought against a determined insurgency, each destroying the lives of a young generation on both sides of the conflict,鈥� says Mr. Barber, 鈥渁nd each fought against a culture and a people that we do not understand or are attempting to understand鈥� Wars are brutal. Vietnam was, Afghanistan is, you name it鈥� War is just not pleasant.鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 not so much dealing with a message鈥� as with documenting reality,鈥� says Mr. Palu. 鈥淚鈥檓 not trying to show exactly the way Afghanistan is鈥� War for me is all in one box. When someone is shot and dying in front of you, it鈥檚 pretty much the same thing.鈥�
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