OLIVER CHANARIN AND ADAM BROOMBERG: FIG. JOHN HANSARD GALLERY UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHAMPTON, ENGLAND FEBRUARY 6-MARCH 31, 2007 In the first half of the twentieth century, photography became an integral element of newspapers and magazines, with photojournalists effectively dispatching artist reporters to the rubbish bin of history. For some time, there have been fears that a similar fate awaits photojournalists. Their professional insecurity has multiple causes. Since the mid-twentieth century, television has been perceived as a threat, particularly with the arrival of 24-hour news stations in the 1990s. Politicians have also been blamed for restricting access, especially to war zones. Cultural theorists have been blamed for querying photography's evidential reputation from various angles. But lately, it has been amateurs--armed with camera phones at newsworthy events like Saddam Hussein's execution, and able to e-mail digital imagery to newspapers and television stations--who have provoked a new round of gloomy reflections on the future of professional photojournalism. [FIGURE 31 OMITTED] On the other hand, the first decade of the twenty-first century has also been marked by an unprecedented interest in documentary photography in fine art institutions. most obvious example is the last Documenta in Kassel, Germany, in 2002, which concentrated on what the event's curator--New York City-based Okwui Enwezor termed counter-hegemonic strategies from the world's cultural margins, with photography a favored medium; or Cruel and Tender: Real in the Twentieth-Century Photograph, the first major photography show at the newly opened Tate Modern in London in 2003. This exhibition was more sedate than the eleventh Documenta, yet the organizers shared Enwezor's assumption that photography continues to be a valuable medium for recording and commenting on the world. above remarks are relevant to any assessment of the photographic team Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin, South African Jews who now live and work in London. Both still under forty, they have quickly established an international reputation with a fresh approach to documentary photography that is evident in books like Ghetto (2003), about various forms of institutional confinement; Mr. Mkhize's Portrait (2004), about post-apartheid South Africa; and most recently Chicago (2006), a chilling portrayal of contemporary Israel apparently reconciled to a state of permanent emergency. All of these projects bear traces of Broomberg and Chanarin's formative experience as creative directors of the magazine Colors. Published by the Italian clothing company Benetton, Colors was launched in 1991 to celebrate cultural relativism and global diversity, mainly via the universal language of photography. case against Benetton has been well rehearsed since the 1990s: that advertising campaigns and promotional magazines that blur traditional distinctions between news and commerce merely trivialize serious issues; or that the stress on human diversity is nothing more than a bland update of New York City's Museum of Modern Art's notorious mid-1950's exhibition The Family of Man. But a case for Benetton can also be made, especially if one references the editions of Colors edited by Broomberg and Chanarin, for instance, their 2003 issue on slavery (Colors 53), produced in collaboration with Anti-Slavery International. For many, human bondage is assumed to be merely of historic interest, but Broomberg and Chanarin deftly edit words and images to reveal its scandalous, present-day manifestations in various locations around the world, including the United States. Critics complain about the aestheticization of misery. Broomberg and Chanarin counter that they are exploring ways of addressing and raising the awareness of young people whose enthusiasm for high street fashion by no means precludes a willingness to seriously engage with current affairs. …
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