ZEKE Magazine: Spring 2023
Feature articles on Ecuador by Nicola Ókin Frioli; Ethiopia by Cinzia Canneria, and Ukraine by Svet Jacqueline. Contents: Piatsaw:A Document on the Resistance of the Native Peoples of Ecuadorian Amazon Against Extractivism Photographs by Nicola Ókin Frioli Winner of 2023 ZEKE Award for systemic change Women's Bodies as Battlefield Photographs by Cinzia Canneri Winner of 2023 ZEKE Award for documentary photography Too Young to Fight, Ukraine Photographs by Svet Jacqueline Picturing Atrocity: Ukraine, Photojournalism, and the Question of Evidence by Lauren Walsh Interview with Chester Higgins by Daniela Cohen
Feature articles on Ecuador by Nicola Ókin Frioli; Ethiopia by Cinzia Canneria, and Ukraine by Svet Jacqueline.
Contents:
Piatsaw:A Document on the Resistance of the Native Peoples of Ecuadorian Amazon Against Extractivism
Photographs by Nicola Ókin Frioli
Winner of 2023 ZEKE Award for systemic change
Women's Bodies as Battlefield
Photographs by Cinzia Canneri
Winner of 2023 ZEKE Award for documentary photography
Too Young to Fight, Ukraine
Photographs by Svet Jacqueline
Picturing Atrocity: Ukraine, Photojournalism, and the Question of Evidence
by Lauren Walsh
Interview with Chester Higgins
by Daniela Cohen
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2023 VOL.9/NO.1 $15 US
ZEKESPRING
THE MAGAZINE OF GLOBAL DOCUMENTARY
Published by Social Documentary Network
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 1
Published by Social Documentary Network
SPRING 2023 VOL.9/ NO.1
$15 US
Photo by Nicola Ókin Frioli from Piatsaw
Photo by Cinzia Canneri from Women's Bodies
as Battlefield
Photo by Svet Jacqueline from Too Young to Fight
2 | PIATSAW
A Document on the Resistance of the Native Peoples of Ecuadorian Amazon
Against Extractivism
Photographs by Nicola Ókin Frioli
WINNER OF 2023 ZEKE AWARD FOR SYSTEMIC CHANGE
14 | WOMEN'S BODIES AS BATTLEFIELD
Photographs by Cinzia Canneri
WINNER OF 2023 ZEKE AWARD FOR DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHY
38 | TOO YOUNG TO FIGHT
Photographs by Svet Jacqueline
48 | PICTURING ATROCITY
Ukraine, Photojournalism, and the Question of Evidence
by Lauren Walsh
26 |
56 |
2023 ZEKE Award Honorable Mention Winners
Interview with Chester Higgins
by Daniela Cohen
58 | Book Reviews
62 | Contributors
65 | Cover photographer
2023 VOL.9/NO.1 $15 US
ZEKESPRING
THE MAGAZINE OF GLOBAL DOCUMENTARY
Photo by Antonio Denti from The Longest Way
Home
Photo by Michael Snyder from The Queens of
Queen City
On the Cover
Photograph by Cinzia Canneri
A Tigrinya woman is showing a
religious pendant belonging to her
husband, who went missing during
the conflict in Tigray. She has had no
news from him since. Today she lives
in poverty, supported only by the aid
provided within the camp. Um Rakuba
Refugee Camp, Gedaref, Sudan. June
15, 2021.
ZEKE
THE
MAGAZINE OF
GLOBAL DOCUMENTARY
Published by Social Documentary Network
Dear ZEKE Readers:
It is always so great to present the winners of the ZEKE Award. Coincidentally
both winners this year are from Italy. Nicola Ókin Frioli is the recipient of the
ZEKE Award for Systemic Change for his project on Indigenous revolt against
extractive industries in Ecuador. And Cinzia Canneri is the recipient of the
ZEKE Award for Documentary Photography for her project on violence against
women, and particularly Tigrayan and Eritrean women fleeing war on both
sides of the border. Congratulations to both! There are also six honorable
mentions who you will find starting on page 26.
As Russia’s destruction of Ukraine continues into its second year, so does
the outpouring of images documenting this horrific war against civilians,
infrastructure, and combatants. In this issue of ZEKE, we are presenting a portfolio
by U.S. photographer Svet Jacqueline, Too Young to Fight, that shines light on the
youngest victims of this senseless war. And to put these photographs in context,
Lauren Walsh, professor at New York University and author of Conversations on
Conflict Photography, has an article Picturing Atrocity: Ukraine, Photojournalism,
and the Question of Evidence that looks at how this outpouring of images by
photojournalists can also be used as evidence of war crimes.
We are also thrilled to be able to present an interview in this issue with Chester
Higgins, a New York Times photographer for more than 40 years and leading
voice in the community of Black photojournalists working to bring a diverse
perspective to our media landscape.
This is our seventeenth issue of ZEKE! With each issue our overriding objective
is to present outstanding documentary photography that we hope educates
and sensitizes our readers to important issues in our world today by using the
language of visual imagery. So much of our intellectual understanding of the
world today is driven by language, which is a much more recent development
in human evolution. Our sight and sensitivity to clues from the visual landscape
have been with us much longer, and we believe these clues give us an
important perspective on our world that we cannot gain by words alone.
Fundamentally this is why we publish ZEKE and is also the foundation behind
the Social Documentary Network.
I hope you as readers agree on the importance of this visual landscape and
will continue to value ZEKE magazine as a vital source of information about our
fragile and forever changing planet and the people, animals and other forms of
life that cohabitate this precious speck in the universe.
Glenn Ruga
Executive Editor
2023 ZEKE Award Jurors
Barbara Ayotte: SDN
Communications Director and
Senior Director of Strategic
Communications at GBH
Greig Cranna: Director,
Bridge Gallery, Cambridge,
Massachusetts
Donny Bajohr: Associate Photo
Editor, Smithsonian magazine
Lisa DuBois: Independent photographer
and curator, SDN Board
member
Anne Farrar: Assistant Managing
Editor, National Geographic
magazine
Avi Gupta: Director of
Photography, U.S. News and
World Report
John Heffernan: President,
Foundation for Systemic Change
Michael Itkoff: Cofounder,
Daylight Books
Danny R. Peralta: Executive
Director, En Foco
Eli Reed: Member of Magnum
Photos and a member of
Magnum’s Board of Directors
Barbara Ayotte
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 1
ZEKE AWARD FOR SYSTEMIC CHANGE
FIRST-PLACE WINNER
Piatsaw
Photos by Nicola Ókin Frioli
Ecuador
Piatsaw was the first man, and God, of
the Sapara mythology who prophesied
the end of the culture of his people.
This documentary tells the story of the
resistance that the Indigenous people
of the Ecuadorian Amazon have
waged against extractive companies
that threaten their territories through
continuous concessions and contamination
caused by Texaco during its
presence in the country. In 1964, Texaco
(now Chevron), arrived in Ecuador with a
concession of 1.5 million hectares in the
provinces of Sucumbíos and Orellana. At
that time, they were extracting oil from
450,000 hectares. The oil giant admitted
in court to having dumped 19 billion
gallons of crude
oil and harmful
A Document on the Resistance of the Native
chemicals directly
into unlined
rivers and pools
in a particularly biodiverse region of the
Ecuadorian rainforest over decades. The
health and future of the inhabitants were
affected by contaminants present in the
soil and groundwater, quantities exceeding
permissible levels in Ecuador.
Following the events that indelibly
marked the future of many families,
the Native peoples of the Ecuadorian
Amazon applied different defense methodologies
against mining, oil companies,
and the government. Armed confrontations,
national strikes and their presence
in the courts were the strategies that the
Indigenous nationalities used to stop the
loss and destruction of their territories as
they consider their environment part of
their body and plants and animals are the
other members of their society.
2 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Peoples of Ecuadorian Amazon Against Extractivism
Indigenous women in protest,
confronting police in Quito.
December 2016.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 3
A Kichwa woman looks into the window
of a light aircraft that has landed
in the community of Morete in Sapara
territory. Morete, like other communities
within this territory, can only be reached
by air and the arrival of a plane is a
special event.
The Sapara are the ancestral owners
of the largest Indigenous territory in the
Ecuadorian jungle. It is estimated that
only 573 Sapara Indians now live in a
territory of more than 3,100 hectares of
primary rainforest.
Today, the Kichwa communities and
some settlers also live in this territory
and consider oil extraction as a solution
to their economic instability without
considering the environmental impact,
destruction and contamination that it
would cause in their surroundings.
4 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 5
Antonio Mayancha, coordinator of
Sisa Ñampi (Border of Life), planting
trees under the rain. In 20 to 40 years
these trees will exceed the size of the
rest, and when flowering, they will
delimit the perimeter of Sarayaku’s
sacred territory, Pastaza Province.
The struggle for the conservation of
the Kichwa territory began with the
arrival of oil companies in Ecuador.
Since then, the community has
remained united in resistance for the
defense of the forest and the preservation
of their biocultural heritage.
Sarayaku is called, according to
an ancient prophecy of the shaman
ancestors, “The people of the Noon”
for being a pillar of territorial, cultural
and spiritual defense, a lighthouse as
strong as the midday sun, and the last
Native people to fall in the face of the
extractivist threat.
6 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 7
Singangoe Community, Sucumbio
Province, Ecuador.
Osvaldo, Indigenous from Sinangoe
community, with his viewfinder during a
day of training to use drones and GPS
localizers.
On October 22, 2018, the Kofan
people of Sinangoe from the
Ecuadorian Amazon won a landmark
legal battle to protect the headwaters
of the Aguarico River, one of Ecuador’s
largest and most important rivers, and
nullify 52 mining concessions that had
been granted by the government in
violation of the Kofan’s right to consent,
freeing up more than 32,000 hectares
of primary rainforest from the devastating
environmental and cultural impact
of gold mining.
8 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Gerardo Gualinga, Chief of the
Wío Indigenous security group, of
the Kichwa Indigenous people of
Sarayaku.
Wío is the name for a small ant that
lives in the jungle. Despite its size,
its bite produces painful itching,
fever and blindness. For this reason
it became the name of the security
and monitoring group of Sarayaku.
Strategically prepared, they monitor
and defend the territory when
necessary, make operative rescues,
take care of women, manage the
entry of foreigners and strangers
to the territory, and the security of
the Chairman of the Tajsajaruta
(Government of the Kichwa Nation).
Gerardo poses for the photo with
a firearm, the last option for an
armed confrontation in case there
is a violent action by the military or
members of an oil company.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 9
10 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Don Luis has not walked for a year.
He suffers from a disease unknown
to him and his relatives. There has
been no official medical diagnosis.
Local doctors hypothesize that it is
colon cancer and muscular dystrophy.
For men, colon cancer is one of the
most common diseases in the region.
Sacha District, Orellana Province.
A recent study by Unión de Afectados
por Texaco (UDAPT) confirms that
the percentage of cancer patients in
Ecuador is much higher in provinces
with extractive activities.
ZEKE ZEKE SPRING FALL 2021/ 2023/ 11
12 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
A group of young Kichwas people in
Cantón Santa Clara on watch during
a meeting organized in order to stop
the construction of the hydroelectric
plant above the Rio Piatúa. The community
was not consulted before the
start of the process.
The company Genefran started
preliminary works that were stopped
by Indigenous pressure in defense of
the river, their primary source of water.
The Indigenous declaration was that
they would burn one machine each
day until the company removed it
permanently from the site.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 13
ZEKE AWARD FOR DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHY
FIRST-PLACE WINNER
WOMEN’S
BODIES AS
BATTLEFIELD
Photos by Cinzia
Canneri
Ethiopia
The targeting of women’s bodies
in times of war, but also in times
of peace, has come to light as a
systematic strategy that has been
used by different actors in many
different contexts worldwide. This
project has analyzed the condition of
Eritrean and Tigrinya women who moved
across the borders of three countries
geopolitically linked to one another:
Eritrea, Ethiopia, and Sudan. From 2017
to 2019, the work has documented
Eritrean women fleeing from one of the
most repressive regimes in the world
and seeking refuge in Ethiopia. From
November 2020, following the invasion
of Tigray (Ethiopia) by the Ethiopian
Federal Army supported by the Eritrean
military forces and Amhara militia, the
project’s focus has broadened to include
also the Tigrinya women, who joined
Eritrean women in their escape from
Ethiopia to Sudan. In Tigray, the Eritrean
army used sexual violence as a weapon
of war against both Eritrean and Tigrinya
women: to punish those fleeing their
country in the former case, and as an act
of extermination in the latter. The bodies
of women became a battlefield on which
there are no sides.
14 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Yohanna, 22, lies next to her mother
after having a kidney removed
following being shot in her abdomen
at the border in Shambuko, Eritrea.
The Eritrean police wanted to send
her mother home after two years of
detention due to her unstable health
condition. Yohanna’s mother had been
imprisoned for not providing information
about her husband’s whereabouts,
even if she had lost all contacts with
him, once he had fled to Jerusalem
in 2015. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.
October 31, 2017.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 15
16 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Regat, 37, grew up in Eritrea and
escaped to Ethiopia in 2010. She says
“I left Eritrea partly to help my family
with their deep economic troubles, but I
can't see a future ahead.” She currently
works at a café because she needs
money to try to reach Sudan, but she
only earns 600 birr – 12 dollars – per
month. Axum, Ethiopia. April 4, 2019.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 17
18 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Yemane, 23, shows a scar caused by
soldiers during a shooting in Tigray.
Yemane escaped from Eritrea and
lived in the Mai Aini camp when the
war broke out. She was there with her
husband, two children, and her sister.
During the escape she was raped in
front of her children and her husband
was captured and taken away.
At the border, while soldiers were
shooting at her husband, her sister
was wounded and Yemane managed
to run with her children. She still
doesn’t know whether her sister is
alive or dead. Yemane suffers from
anxiety disorders linked to posttraumatic
stress, and she feels
responsible for not aiding her sister.
The UNHCR declared that 24,000
Eritrean refugees in the Mai Aini and
Adi Harush camps, located in the Mai
Tsebri area in Tigray, have lived in a
state of constant terror and could not
access humanitarian aid of any kind.
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. November
30, 2022.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 19
A refugee Eritrean woman stands
under a tree just outside the Hitsats
Refugee Camp, Ethiopia, March
31, 2019. The Hitsats camp hosted
almost 23,000 Eritrean refugees and
its population has more than doubled
since the border opened following
the peace deal between Eritrea and
Ethiopia in 2018. It is one of the four
refugee camps in Tigray for Eritreans,
who make up the third largest refugee
population in Ethiopia with 173,879
officially registered. The war in Tigray
started on November 4, 2020 and
has caused violence against Eritrean
refugees gathered mainly in the camps
of Hitsats, Adi Harush, Mai Aini and
Shimelba, in north Ethiopia. Different
sources have reported that forced
repatriations have been practiced from
these camps and the estimated number
of deportations is 6,000.
20 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 21
Rita, a refugee from Eritrea, shows
some objects she treasures, once
belonging to her daughter Elena
who died when she was seven
years old while she was crossing the
border between Eritrea and Ethiopia
in 2016. Elena had a congenital
liver disease and her health condition
did not allow her to survive the
journey. Elena was buried along
the migration route in a place that
doesn’t have any connection with
her family. Rita says she would like
to live where her daughter was
buried: “Having moved away from
my daughter's body means having
lost her a second time.”
22 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 23
An Eritrean girl walking along the
railway that connects Eritrea with
Ethiopia. The majority of children
in Eritrea grow up without the
protection of parents, who have
emigrated or are serving in the
military indefinitely in unknown
locations. This causes children to
develop a strong desire to escape
to a new life and to leave their
country at a young age.
As a result of the peace agreement
between Eritrea and Ethiopia
signed in September 2018, the
average daily arrivals to Europe
in the three months following the
reopening of borders revealed that
many children have actually run
away without their family knowing
it, often in the attempt to reach their
parents already abroad.
Foundation Human Rights for
Eritreans (FHRE) has denounced the
international community for providing
aid to Eritrea, which even after
the peace agreement with Ethiopia
still maintains a dictatorial regime
considered the worst after North
Korea. This causes Eritrean people,
including many unaccompanied
minors, to leave.
Asmara-Massawa road, Eritrea.
March 23, 2019.
24 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 25
ZEKE AWARD HONORABLE MENTION WINNER
Jacinta Legei, 44, advances the
women’s traditional praying
group in the dry Dol Dol landscape.
The prayer ceremony is
held for rain amid the ongoing
drought. It usually lasts for four
days. The people in this area
have not had good rains for
the past three to four years. The
landscape is dry and it is full
of invasive cacti species. This
combination leads to increased
deaths among their livestock.
Consequently, poverty is widespread.
Dol Dol, Laikipia county,
Kenya (February 2022).
26 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Rasha Al Jundi
Red Soil: Colonial Legacy in Maasai Land | Kenya
This is a story that spans
generations.
About the man in a redshuka,
and the woman with a beaded
necklace.
Indigenous peoples, once mighty,
controlling territories that
spanned borders.
A tribe, rich with traditions,
culture, knowledge and history.
Uprooted, fragmented and fenced
off from their ancestral lands.
A historical injustice with
contemporary consequences.
The Maasai, of Laikipia county,
live in a state of negative peace.
Colonizers pushed them away
from the red soil of the Rift
Valley, into confined reserves.
Present day governance trades
with their lands and grievances.
Fortress conservation, drought and
bouts of conflict surround them.
Prejudice mutes their voices.
Peace, without justice, is present.
The threat to their way of life is
real.
Yet, they are here, holding us
witness to their story.
One of perseverance, adaptability
and courage.
That of the man in a redshuka
and the woman with a beaded
necklace.
Above: A warrior from the
Samburu tribe, armed with an
AK-47, watches his herd of cows
cross the river separating Laikipia
from Isiolo county. Guns are
increasingly becoming the weapon
of choice among pastoral tribes in
Kenya for the purpose of protection.
They can be easily bought
in the black market for the price
of five to six cows (approximately
USD 2,000-5,000). Laikipia
county, Kenya (February 2022).
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 27
ZEKE Award for Systemic Change
HONORABLE MENTION WINNER
Antonio Denti
The Longest Way Home | Vatican City and Canada
28 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Indigenous Canadians at the Vatican
to meet Pope Francis. Vatican City.
In April 2022, it was quite
something to see Indigenous
Canadians, proud in their
costumes, under Bernini's
colonnade at the Vatican waiting
to meet the Pope. When the
impressive monument was being
built in 1600, their colonial
catastrophe was starting. It was
also quite something only a few
months later to see the aging
Pope, in deep pain due to a troubled
knee, travelling to Canada's
desolate plains, to the Arctic
frontier, to the sacred lakes, to
the ancestral lands to say: “I am
sorry.” Systemic change may have
started then as the beginning of
a difficult path of reconciliation in
the scarred lands.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 29
ZEKE AWARD HONORABLE MENTION WINNER
Nyani Quarmyne
Connecting the Caucasus | Georgia
Lasha Tunauri and his packhorses
wait while Konstantin Stalinsky,
Giorgi Kirvalidze, and Amirani
Giorganashvili complete
construction of a tower on Kheki,
a mountain peak in Tusheti in
the Greater Caucasus Mountains
in the Republic of Georgia.
The tower was part of a solarpowered
wireless network to bring
broadband Internet access to
Tusheti. The project was the result
of a partnership between several
local and international Internet
and development organizations
and aims to provide a way for the
people who live in Tusheti to build
opportunities while preserving
their local heritage, traditions, and
ways of life.
30 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Tusheti, draped across the
Caucasus Mountains in
Georgia, is all but cut off
for most of the year—the
only road in, through the treacherous
Abano Pass, is impassable
in winter. An occasional Border
Police helicopter becomes the only
link with the outside world. The
region is the ancestral home of
the Tush, traditionally nomadic
shepherds. Today, due largely to
Soviet-era resettlement policies,
most live in the lowlands; few
brave winter in the mountains.
But when the Abano Pass
opens in spring, Tush flood into
the highlands, shepherds among
them making a ten-day trek with
their flocks. There is a sense that
for most Tush, the mountains
are their real home. Tourism has
become the economic mainstay:
seasonal guesthouses cater to
summer hikers. But they are constrained
by the very remoteness
that is their main attraction.
Aiming to boost tourism by
getting businesses online, a group
of volunteers set out to bring the
Internet to the mountains. They
hope that increased economic
opportunity will slow the drift
of young people to cities, and
make it possible for the Tush to
once again live year-round in the
mountains.
Top: A shepherd driving a flock of
sheep into the Abano Pass along
the road to Tusheti
Bottom: Tamari Khucishvili playing
with her daughter, Sophia, at their
home in Omalo, the central village
in the remote mountainous region
of Tusheti.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 31
ZEKE AWARD HONORABLE MENTION WINNER
Jean Ross
Displaced | Georgia
This family is one of the few left in the once-grand Metalurgi
Sanatorium in Tskaltubo. During the past two years, the
Georgian government has stepped up efforts to relocate
residents to better housing.
32 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Top right: Murtazi lives in Kartli, a former cardiology clinic
near the shores of the Tbilisi Sea, on the outskirts of the nation’s
capital. He has a daughter and new grandchild in the U.S.
Bottom right: Gulo wore this coat, representing a large share of
the family’s wealth, when she was forced to flee Abkhazia. She
and her husband, Oscar, are now among the last remaining
residents of the former Aia Sanatorium in Tskaltubo.
.
Long before the invasion of
Ukraine, Russian military
forces intervened in
multiple wars in Georgia;
first in Abkhazia in the early
1990s and later in South Ossetia.
Roughly a quarter of a million
people, mostly ethnic Georgians,
were displaced during the
conflicts. While many remained in
the areas bordering the conflict
zones, others relocated to Tbilisi
and other cities, often living
in large congregate housing
complexes. Continued hostility,
exacerbated by ongoing Russian
presence, has dimmed displaced
families’ dreams of returning
home. These images, and the
stories that go with them, document
their multi-decade struggle
for social and economic integration.
They also explore broader
questions regarding the treatment
of civilians displaced by armed
conflict broadly and the specific
humanitarian toll of Russia’s wars
against its neighbors.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 33
ZEKE AWARD HONORABLE MENTION WINNER
Mustafa Bilge Satkın
Drowned History | Turkey
Aye is the youngest member of a family of eight children, and
she has to work at harvest time like all family members. In the
past, these people were able to do irrigated farming on their
land near the Tigris River. Now the farmers are forbidden to
use the water in the dam. Drought caused a decrease in the
amount of grain in the region.
34 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
The construction of the
Ilısu Dam in Turkey had
devastating impacts on
the local community and
environment in the Dicle Valley,
a 100 km-long area along the
Tigris River. The project resulted in
the displacement of over 10,000
people, most of whom are Kurdish
and Arabic, and the submergence
of 198 villages, including the
ancient city of Hasankeyf, one of
the world’s oldest continuously
inhabited settlements.
Despite this, the dam was
constructed as part of the state’s
water policies, with little regard
for the consequences it would
have on the local community and
environment. The inhabitants of
villages were forced to abandon
their ancestral homes, sell their
livestock, and move to a hastily
built new town. The process of
moving was emotionally distressing,
as people had to exhume the
graves of their loved ones and
carry their remains to the new
town so future generations could
visit their ancestors.
Top: A suburb near the center of
Sırnak. The Kurdish group, which
came from different places, is
trying to keep their old traditions
alive. They have fun in solidarity
with their local clothes and traditional
games.
Bottom: Elif is a family member
engaged in animal husbandry.
Due to the overheated water that
has become stagnant, his family
is considering giving up livestock
and emigrating to the big city.
Many families cannot get enough
efficiency from agriculture and animal
husbandry due to the negative
conditions created by the dam.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 35
ZEKE AWARD HONORABLE MENTION WINNER
Above: French Silk poses in a practice bow hunting range on an unoccupied floor
of a commercial building near Cumberland, Maryland. “This place is as country as
it gets. Pretty much everyone that I knew growing up went hunting. It never seemed
like the kind of place where different sexual identities and things like drag could
ever exist. It still blows my mind that this is happening here. But I am proud that it is.
I am proud to be a part of this.”
This project is funded in part by the Pulitzer Center
and will be published in the summer issue of the
Virginia Quarterly Review.
36 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Michael Snyder
The Queens of Queen City | Maryland, United States
America is, by admission
of most of its political
leaders, a nation shaped
by deeply held religious
beliefs and cultural values. And
perhaps nowhere is this truer than
in Appalachia, a mountainous swath
of America’s eastern midsection,
known for its Rust Belt work ethic
and its Bible Belt conservatism.
Here, Cumberland, Maryland was
once the “Queen City,” a hub of
industry and culture. But the story
of Cumberland has paralleled that
of many once-great cities throughout
the Appalachian region: the gradual
departure of industry and, with it, a
slow descent into economic stagnation
and cultural decline.
But even here, flowers are
growing in the cracked pavement:
a queer community has banded
together, created a thriving drag
scene, and—against all odds—built
the largest Pride movement in the
region. The “Queens of Queen City”
is a documentary project exploring
the courage, risks, and repercussions
of openly expressing LGBTQ identities
in rural, conservative America.
The project charts the course of this
queer community over five years as
they struggle with loss, bigotry, and
acts of arson, to build an inclusive,
vibrant community.
Top: Claire, Mary Jane, and Aradia
cool off in a local swimming hole
outside of Cumberland, MD. “I
grew up outside.” Says Aradia. “I
am just as country as anybody is.”
Bottom: Iva Fetish blow dries their
nails during a drag pageant at
the Embassy Theatre. “I’m a dirty
Queen.” She says. “I’m a dirty
girl. I’m not like one of these pretty
things here.” She says, pointing
toward the pictures on the wall.
“It’s OK though honey, I love myself
anyway. I embrace my bad side.”
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 37
Young To Fight” focuses on the
“Too
lives of Ukrainian children since
Russia invaded Ukraine on February
24, 2022. The stories are heartbreaking.
I first arrived a week after the
invasion started. I was thrown into the worst
parts of this conflict. I spent my mornings
at funerals, my afternoons watching fathers
say a tearful goodbye to their families
boarding trains, and my nights in bunkers
listening to the echoes of artillery fire.
I have now spent over five months
documenting this cruel and unnecessary
attack on Ukraine—and democracy. The
landscape of this war changes daily. As
of September 2022, over 1,000 children
had been killed in Ukraine—some have
been tortured and their bodies burned.
Others have sustained injuries from shelling
and are spending birthdays and holidays
in hospitals getting fitted for prosthetics.
Thousands are accepting a new life of living
underground dreaming of a day when they
can go back to school—or just to dance
class. The rest—those who account for the
over five million refugees who were forced
to flee since the war started—are doing
their best to assimilate in places that will
never feel like home.
The beautiful thing about children is the
joy they find in the most unlikely of circumstances.
They embody the Ukrainian spirit
in its purest form. They run, play, and laugh
in the face of the evil that has become their
reality.
As they grow older, some of them will
be drafted into the war as young adults.
Some will help raise the siblings that their
parents died to protect and some will never
return to their childhood homes or cities
again. I will continue to photograph their
stories—the ones that capture the innocence
that war destroys. As the world starts to turn
away from the headlines from the war, I ask
that we recognize that the shadows of this
period in history will follow us, reflected
through the eyes and stories of Ukrainian
children as they find a more permanent
identity.
Too Young
to Fight
Photos by
Ukraine
Svet Jacqueline
A family takes a train toward Lviv as
violence increases in Eastern Ukraine
on April 25, 2022. The displacement
of over four million refugees has
been recorded since the start of the
Russian invasion.
38 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 39
Police guarding Liberty Square
in Kherson are passed by a
young girl running. Kherson was
officially liberated after eight
months of Russian occupation on
November 11, 2022.
40 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 41
42 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Petro, 49, and his daughter Emily,
6, read a book together in his
hospital bed in Lviv on November
16, 2022. Two months into his
service, outside of Kherson, his
vehicle hit an anti-tank mine causing
him to lose both his legs and
two fingers on his left hand.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 43
44 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Two young boys emulate Ukrainian
soldiers at a makeshift checkpoint on
May 25, 2022. They have become a
symbol of playful hopefulness in their
neighborhood in Chuhuiv in eastern
Ukraine.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 45
A young girl and her brother
look out the train car window on
March 18, 2022, as they head
west to Poland not sure when they
will return home.
46 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 47
Picturing
Atrocity
By Lauren Walsh
Ukraine,
Photojournalism,
and the Question
of Evidence
48 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Iryna and Viktor Dudnyk weep over
the body of their son Dmytro, 38,
killed in a Russian rocket attack in
Kherson, Ukraine, December 10,
2022. © David Guttenfelder for
New York Times.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 49
Picturing Atrocity
A
little
over three
years ago, I published
my book Conversations
on Conflict Photography.
It takes a deep dive
into the journalistic
world of photographing war and
crisis, exploring topics such as
physical risks and emotional tolls
that photographers face, questions
around censorship of graphic
imagery, public fatigue in response
to difficult images, and the impact
of repeatedly negative portrayals
of peoples and places. The whole
book was born from an episode that
happened in one of my classes at
NYU, where I teach. In response to a
photograph of a severely emaciated
man, taken during a devastating
famine, a student said, “I don’t see
why I should care about that person.
There’s nothing I can do anyway. So
why should I be made to feel bad?”
He went on to say that he had plans
that night and didn’t want his mood
spoiled by the depressing photo.
It was a stunning moment for me
as an educator, normally privileged
to spend time with students who do
want to engage with the subject
matter and who do endeavor to
think about ways to raise public
awareness or minimize others’
suffering. It was a moment that
forced me to think deeply about
why images of pain and atrocity are
created, how they are seen, and
when (or if?) they have value. After
all, though my student’s choice of
words may have been insensitive, he
isn’t the only one to feel that way. If
we are being honest, we probably
all have seen a photo that generated
a sense of “but what can I do to
make things better?” Sometimes the
photo is just too much to take in, too
distressing to look at.
So, is there a purpose to making
pictures of the most horrific scenes
imaginable? Do photojournalists
actually record all the brutally
egregious situations they witness? Is
there benefit to that documentation?
These are questions I still think
about – now anew with the war in
Ukraine. Accordingly, this essay
Is there a purpose to making pictures of
the most horrific scenes imaginable?
Markings on the wall inside a torture chamber, where, allegedly, Russians held individuals to extract information.
Survivors claim they were kidnapped, bound, detained, and starved, and the brutality included electric
shock torture and psychological threats. Kherson, Ukraine, November 2022. © Julia Kochetova.
explores these questions through the
contemporary lens of photographing
atrocity—war crimes and other
grievous violations—in one of the
deadliest conflicts in Europe since
World War II.
TOUGH DECISIONS
Photo editors occupy a vital part
of the photojournalism chain. They
make the tough decisions about
which images to disseminate, how to
contextualize them, and why. Violent
images can lead to visceral reactions
in the news-consuming public. Some
may look away (as my student
advocated), but others get upset, if
not angry.
The violence of an image isn’t
necessarily graphic. Photographer
David Guttenfelder caught the
emotional devastation etched on
the faces of an elderly couple, as
they stand over the body of their son
who perished in a Russian rocket
attack in Kherson in December. The
accompanying words in the New
York Times article [Dec 15, 2022]
amplify the impact of the image,
referring to the “unspeakable grief”
that consumes survivors in the wake
of random death as “the world
shrugs and moves on, often oblivious
to the terrible impact on families and
lives.” Guttenfelder’s photo is a visual
attempt to stop us from shrugging,
and to force us to acknowledge
the far away suffering, possibly
asking us to suffer (or at least feel
discomfort) a little bit, too.
That image, though raw with
emotional anguish, is, in many
regards, discreet. The body of
the son is largely hidden, only his
blanket-covered legs in the frame.
For many photo editors, the most
difficult decisions play out around
images of explicit physical violence—
much of which they themselves must
examine. Washington Post photo
editor Chloe Coleman describes
this in an article for Nieman Reports
[Apr 15, 2022], “As the Russians
have retreated from parts of Ukraine,
journalists’ access to the sites of
apparent atrocities have resulted in a
flow of especially gruesome scenes,
many of which I must review and
consider from my desk: body bags
(closed and opened); murdered
50 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
civilians, burned, their hands bound,
some dismembered.” She then asks:
“What do readers need to see to
understand the reality of war without
our coverage being gratuitous?”
In short, there is a line that photo
editors try not to cross—one that isn’t
overly sensational, one that doesn’t
re-traumatize survivors, one that
doesn’t repulse their readers. Because
a repulsed reader is one who turns
away and doesn’t take in the news.
Coleman explains that news
consumers need to understand that
civilians and soldiers alike are dying.
But, she muses, “Do they need to see
identifiable faces of these people?
Not usually.” Both Coleman and
Heidi Levine, a seasoned combat
photographer who has been
covering Ukraine for the Washington
Post, refer to such images as
“evidence.” In particular, Levine, who
authored a Post article [Apr 8, 2022]
about what she witnessed after
Bucha was liberated from Russian
control, observes, “It was a scene
that I knew had to be documented
for evidence.”
EVIDENCE
But whom is this evidence for? And
what is it evidence of?
At a basic level, it is for the broad
public to see, generally in a way
that isn’t utterly visually repugnant—
so we can grasp the destruction
occurring during this war.
It is also evidence for policy
makers. The international outrage
after Bucha was liberated was no
doubt influenced in large part by
the journalism created in early April
2022, including photos of dead
bodies, mass graves, and tortured
victims—“the visible signs of war
crimes,” as Levine put it.
“I am horrified by the images of
civilians lying dead on the streets,”
stated Michelle Bachelet, then-UN
High Commissioner for Human
Rights. Heads of state condemned
the apparent crimes in Bucha;
the president of the European
Council, as well as other European
leaders, promised greater sanctions
on Moscow. Zelensky called it
genocide. And Biden labeled Putin
a war criminal, as he pledged a
continued supply of weapons to
Ukraine alongside further sanctions
against Russia.
The on-the-ground accounts from
photojournalists like award-winning
Carol Guzy are chilling. In a
Yahoo!News piece [Apr 22, 2022],
the photographer describes Bucha,
saying “It was just horrendous. Its
[sic] apocalyptic.” The images in that
article, like many that were published
when Bucha was liberated, are
difficult to view; some even push the
envelope with the graphic nature of
what is depicted.
By and large, however,
mainstream media handles such
documentation very sensitively,
offering views of death that protect
both the viewer and the dead.
The composition of an image may
render faces obscured or individual
identities imperceptible; piles of
bodies might be pictured from a
distance; and torture may appear as
a detail— a close-up of bound hands
on a deceased victim, for example.
We can think of such imagery as
taking an evidentiary stand against
Russian disinformation. Responding
to allegations of carnage in Bucha, the
Russian Ministry of Defense asserted
that “not a single local resident
suffered from any violent actions”
under Russian occupation.
For some photojournalists, there
is also the hope that their images
may be used to provide evidence of
violations of international humanitarian
law (IHL), a set of rules that govern
conduct in armed conflict and which
seek to mitigate the suffering of
non-combatants. As veteran war
photographer Lynsey Addario said
[Business Insider, Mar 8, 2022] after
witnessing a family killed by a mortar
strike outside the capital city of Kyiv,
“I thought it’s disrespectful to take a
photo, but I have to take a photo. This
is a war crime.”
The International Criminal
Court (ICC), working with special
investigators, is already probing
the possibility that war crimes have
been committed in Ukraine—one
of the few times in history that such
work has been undertaken within just
weeks of the apparent crimes.
Evidence of a war crime, or
of other violations of IHL (such
as genocide), could lead to the
indictment and prosecution of
the perpetrators. In an extensive
analysis of the killings in Bucha,
published on December 22, 2022 in
A hand in a mass grave in Bucha, Ukraine, April 2022. As of June that year, the Head of the National Police
in Ukraine reported that 1,137 people were killed in the greater area of Bucha during the Russian occupation.
© Julia Kochetova.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 51
Picturing Atrocity
the New York Times, the reporters
observe, “Historically, journalists
and investigators relied on a single
photograph or video to expose
wartime atrocities.” Today, the
authors note, there is so much more,
in quantity and detail, in terms of
documentation. So does the still
photo remain as useful a piece of
evidence? And can photojournalists
really produce documentation that
will stand scrutiny in a tribunal?
PHOTOJOURNALISM
AND WAR CRIMES
Janine di Giovanni, a longtime
war correspondent, has helped to
initiate a novel approach to human
rights monitoring and journalism.
She is the Executive Director and
Co-founder of The Reckoning
Project, which, she explains, is a
Ukrainian-led team of experienced
human rights professionals—former
investigative journalists who have
received training in understanding
international humanitarian law and
how to create viable documentation
for IHL cases. “My vision for this
was that frontline witnesses were
absolutely the most important people
in this puzzle of international justice.
But in prior cases, when journalists
got called to the Hague, most of the
time, their evidence didn’t stand up.
It wasn’t transcribed correctly, or they
haven’t got witness statements. I know
because I myself have been called
several times to give evidence.”
This “mobile war crimes unit,”
as di Giovanni describes the team,
focuses on gathering and verifying
evidence and building cases in
order to combat the “plague of
impunity” she sees in the wake
of armed conflict. The Reckoning
Project currently consists of twentythree
researchers, all journalists
by background but none of whom
are photojournalists. This raises
the question of whether wartime
press photographers should receive
training or knowledge around IHL
and tribunals. If photojournalists
were given this background,
could their work be more useful to
investigators and prosecutors?
In some senses, yes. Lawrence
Douglas, a titled professor and prolific
author based at Amherst College and
Can photojournalists really produce
documentation that will stand scrutiny in a
tribunal?
an expert in war crimes and other
mass atrocity prosecutions, explains,
“If you’re taking a picture of a corpse
on the street, we need to know not
only exactly where that street is,
but a sense of the environment. For
example, let’s say there is a trail of
blood. Document it. The corpse has
been moved. That’s relevant. It might
not be relevant as an image to supply
to your newspaper; but it could be
very important for the purposes of
establishing what exactly happened
there.”
Wendy Betts, the Founding
Director of eyeWitness to Atrocities,
concurs: “I wish I could say to the
photojournalist, ‘But what’s behind
you?’ A panorama would be great,
just one 360 so we can see what’s
around.”
For Betts, this gives a fuller picture
and can help the work of investigators.
Her organization, established by
the International Bar Association,
works to collect verified images of
potential war crimes through an
app, facilitating the authentication
process and streamlining some of the
forensic work required for building
IHL cases. She explains that there
are two primary aspects to consider
when evaluating imagery for use as
evidence: its relevance to the case
(how does it matter here?) and its
reliability (is it authentic? Is the “chain
of custody” intact? That involves
tracing the lifespan of the image to
ensure it has not been compromised,
for instance through Photoshop or
other manipulation).
Betts recalls a training session
where a crime scene investigator
asked a journalist, “What would you
photograph?” The response from
the photographer? They would find
what’s most compelling, would be
thinking about framing and angles,
would capture what’s most emotive
for a viewer to induce them to read
and learn more. By contrast, says
Betts, evidence photos are “often
boring. They’re shot at 90 degree
angles and they are looking at things
like license plates and shell casings.
That makes them relevant.”
In this sense, Douglas appreciates
that photojournalists, particularly
those with experience in war
zones, likely recognize that they
are documenting “not just an act of
war, but potentially a criminal act.”
But he adds, “knowing how to do
that in a professional [investigative]
fashion,” will strengthen the value of
the imagery for potentially building
an IHL case. “Once you decide to use
the images for specific evidentiary
purposes to prove the guilt of the
accused, then you’re suddenly in a
very different world than you are in
when you’re using the images in the
national or international press for the
purposes of trying to get people to
take these atrocities seriously.”
PHOTOJOURNALISTS
ON THE GROUND
Evgeniy Maloletka, a Ukrainian
Associated Press (AP) freelancer,
offers the photojournalist’s perspective.
He has a working if not studied
knowledge of what constitute violations
of IHL: “When Russian tanks shoot
apartment blocks. When airstrikes
hit apartment buildings or hospitals. I
52 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
Maloletka’s Instagram post on January 14, 2023.
“Russia attacked civilian neighbourhood. This is a
War Crime.” Screenshot by the author.
didn’t study war crimes; I don’t have
training. I learned it in the field.”
But his images differ from
investigators’. As a photojournalist,
he prioritizes affect. “You concentrate
mostly on emotions, so viewers can
connect.”
Both Douglas and Betts see
tremendous value in photojournalistic
images, even if the photographer isn’t
trained in IHL. “The photos may help
to corroborate witness testimony. They
may help to flesh out the story that
some of the more forensic information
is offering. And really there’s no
one silver bullet piece of evidence in
these types of trials, because they’re
so vast. It is one incredibly large
evidentiary puzzle,” says Betts. She
adds that the traditional means of
getting photos entered into evidence
is to bring the photographer in to
testify to the fact that they took the
image and have not manipulated it.
“This is still the primary and probably
preferred way of most courts.”
In short, mainstream media and
war crimes investigators bring
differing expectations to their
approach to visual documentation.
As Betts observes, evidence photos
may reveal victim’s identities or
even perpetrators in commission
of the crime itself – imagery that is
sometimes sanitized by media outlets.
Maloletka echoes, “You’re
thinking prior about whether you will
show the faces. You don’t want to,
if possible. If you’re photographing
an injured person, you don’t know
if they will live or die, so you try
to hide their identity, for example,
because you don’t want their
relatives to find out this way.”
Betts and Douglas, while mindful
of limitations, emphasize the benefits
of photojournalistic imagery. “You
might see bodies lying on the
street, but not see their faces,” says
Douglas. “Yet often the identity of the
victims isn’t necessarily crucial if you
are aware that they are civilians,” he
adds, referring to the fact that attacks
on civilians is a violation of IHL.
Maloletka explains that he will
document a graphic scene—even
knowing the AP may not use some
photos for being too brutal—for his
own remembrance, to acknowledge,
if only personally, what he witnessed.
Rarely, he may share those images
publicly, via Instagram, with a
graphic content warning, as he did
in October 2022 with photos of
rotting Russian corpses, because,
as he says, “war is ugly and
Russians should see their own dead
soldiers as well.”
Julia Kochetova, another
Ukrainian photojournalist who has
worked for outlets such as Vice,
Guardian and Der Spiegel, echoes
many of these points. She, too, has
never received any training in crime
scene photography, but assuredly
states, “I witnessed the aftermath of
war crimes in Bucha.”
In relating an episode from
Kherson, Kochetova adds another
layer to this discussion: the
photojournalist cannot alter the
scene. “I saw the body of a woman
who had been raped and killed
violently. You could see the bruises
and the signs of the sexual attack. I
spoke with neighbors who confirmed
that Russians did it. They were in
uniform.”
“I knew that I was the only
person there with a camera so I
needed to document. The body
was partially naked, partially
covered. Her face was obscured
by a jacket. As a journalist, I can’t
change the scene, so I can’t move
the jacket to reveal her identity. I
have the photos of what I saw.”
This of course differs from the
work of investigators, who would
collect and preserve physical
evidence, take measurements and
statements, and document the entire
scene and each piece of evidence
photographically.
Bodies of civilians who died during the evacuation of Irpin when Russian troops opened mortar and artillery
fire on them. Irpin, Kyiv region, Ukraine, March 6, 2022. © Maxim Dondyuk.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 53
Picturing Atrocity
MORAL PRESSURE
But the photojournalistic work
operates on many levels. In addition
to their potential evidentiary worth,
Douglas sees photos as uniquely
powerful in inciting an emotional
response—a moral outrage—that
presses for legal action. “We have
these images coming out of Ukraine,
for instance, the pregnant woman
who was injured by the rocket attack
[in Mariupol] and ended up dying
and losing the fetus. That had an
incredibly galvanizing capacity in
ways that words simply don’t—and
that can actually lead towards
mobilizing the necessary political will
to create war crimes trials.”
Yet the moral pressure on the
public also comes with a toll on
the frontline witnesses. Maxim
Dondyuk, a Ukrainian documentary
photographer who has observed
scenes of war crimes, says, “There
were a lot of things that broke me
down.” Kochetova confirms, “this has
been traumatizing. It’s personal. It
will affect me for decades.”
Dondyuk expresses a bigger
picture outlook: “For me, the
whole war is already a crime.”
He reiterates the point that photojournalists
are not investigators: “It’s
not my job. Yes, I have witnessed
war crimes and took as many photos
as could, but it’s not my role to dig
into that.” That is for prosecutors to
take up.
Alison Fitzgerald Kodjak, Acting
Global Investigations Editor with
the AP, makes a related point. She
has helped to head up War Crimes
Watch Ukraine, a joint project of
the AP and the PBS investigative
documentary series FRONTLINE,
that catalogs incidents of apparent
IHL violations. Influenced by, as she
says, “the flood of images” out of
Ukraine in the early days of the war,
Fitzgerald Kodjak and colleagues
developed this database—which
works with significant numbers
First responders and volunteers carry an injured pregnant woman from a maternity hospital that was damaged
by Russian shelling in Mariupol, Ukraine, March 9, 2022. The woman and her baby later died. © Evgeniy
Maloletka/AP.
of photos but also other forms of
evidentiary records—to increase
public understanding. And while
Ukrainian prosecutors as well
as international law researchers
have expressed interest in the
documentation amassed, Fitzgerald
Kodjak is clear in stating, “this is
a journalistic enterprise. We aren’t
working to meet legal definitions.” In
short, there is a gap—one protected
as well as respected by many in the
field—between journalism and legal
application.
Even so, though he has no
experience with tribunals, Maloletka
nevertheless hopes his images may,
one day, provide a frontline view
that can hold Russian perpetrators
accountable in a court of law.
Ultimately, Dondyuk says, “I
hope that people not only see these
pictures, but feel it for themselves,
tear themselves from their cup of
coffee or glass of wine in their warm
refined world.” In short: Ignorance
and impunity are unacceptable.
THE FUTURE
The collection of evidence for potential
use in tribunals is set to outpace, by
an order of magnitude, the evidence
“I hope that people not only see these pictures, but feel
it for themselves, tear themselves from their cup of coffee
or glass of wine in their warm refined world.”
—Maxim Dondyuk, Ukrainian documentary photographer
amassed in Syria. As Betts says,
“you have the technology to collect
information, the political will to act on
that information, and the capacity of
society to assist this process.” The pace
will also be faster. Historically, such
trials could take years, even decades,
to come to fruition. We are now likely
to witness prosecutions that feel closer
to “real time.”
And as Dondyuk states of his current
work, “I’m not a war photographer.
When the war in Ukraine is over, I will
return to my artistic projects not related
to war, and definitely won’t continue
covering conflicts in other countries.
But this is my country now and I feel
that this is my duty to capture this
historical moment for the present and
the future.”
With gratitude to all in this essay who
gave time for an interview or allowed use
of imagery.
54 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
A Home for Global Documentary
Photo by Jean Ross from Displaced
Social Documentary Network
SDN Website: A web portal for
documentary photographers to
create online galleries and make
them available to anyone with an
internet connection. Since 2008,
we have presented more than
4,000 documentary stories from
all parts of the world.
www.socialdocumentary.net
ZEKE Magazine: This bi-annual
publication allows us to present
visual stories in print form with indepth
writing about the themes
of the photography projects.
www.zekemagazine.com
SDN Salon: An informal gathering
of SDN photographers to
share and discuss work online.
Documentary Matters:
An online place for photographers
to meet with others involved with
or interested in documentary
photography and discuss ongoing
or completed projects.
SDN Education: Leading
documentary photographers and
educators provide online learning
opportunities for photographers
interested in advancing their
knowledge and skills in the field
of documentary photography.
SDN Reviews: Started in April
2021, this annual program brings
together industry leaders from
media, publishing, and the fine
art community to review work of
documentary photographers.
ZEKE Award: The ZEKE Award
for Documentary Photography
and the ZEKE Award for Systemic
Change are juried by a panel of
international media professionals.
Award winners are exhibited
at Photoville in Brooklyn, NY and
featured in ZEKE Magazine.
Join us!
www.socialdocumentary.net
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 55
Interview
Karnak Temple, Egypt,
2023. Photo by Betsy
Kissam.
CHESTER HIGGINS
Chester Higgins, Jr. has spent over five
decades documenting the African American
experience, past and present. Born in
Fairhope, Alabama, Higgins worked as a
photographer at the New York Times for nearly
forty years. Published collections of his photography
include Black Woman; Feeling the Spirit:
Searching the World for the People of Africa;
Elder Grace: The Nobility of Aging; Echo of the
Spirit: A Photographer’s Journey; and his latest
book, Sacred Nile.
By Daniela Cohen
Daniela Cohen: I’d love to hear
more about how your journey into
photography started?
Chester Higgins: My beginning of photography
was accidental or just fortuitous.
I was a business management major at
Tuskegee and needed a photographer
for display ads in the newspaper. This
photographer had missed a deadline, so
I drove to his house.
Some photographs on his wall struck
me because they were photographs of
poor people, very dignified people.
They reminded me of the dignity of
people from my hometown.
It made me think wow, the image validates
whatever is showing. Most people
of color did not have money to go for a
formal sitting, so I thought, what if I could
give my great aunt and uncle a picture
of themselves to hang on their wall? But
I didn’t know how to make photographs,
so I asked this man to teach me.
A year later, I started making pictures.
I had them framed and took them
down to my great aunt and uncle and
placed them on their wall. My reward
was seeing their faces light up when
they recognized that they themselves
were worthy enough to be on their
walls. Not that they felt any inadequacy
about being themselves, it’s just something
they never thought about.
Essentially, validation is what I’ve
always done with my camera. I started
out with a love for my immediate family.
But it’s been consistently a love
for people who look like me and who
experience the same experience.
I didn’t try to show how badly
Black people are suffering. That sort of
photography sacrificed the humanity
of the people on the altars of racism,
and I refuse to be a party to that sort of
sacrifice. I want my images to be good
food for the mind. It’s very important you
balance out your imagery by using both
the head and the heart. And that’s what
I’ve always done.
DC: It sounds like you’ve been consciously
shifting the narrative that’s
being put out there by the choices that
you’re making.
CH: I cannot do away with the racist
images that everybody has been producing.
What I can do is add another
perspective, so that people will notice
another view as well. So, the spirit
that allowed me to be at the New York
Times for almost 40 years and to apply
change in that paper. I was not the only
photographer there, but I was one who
consistently felt it was my duty to broaden
the view for New York Times readers of
people who look like me. And it being
a paper for decision makers, that was a
very important place to be.
DC: I’m curious about the idea of your
photography giving visual expression to
your personal and collective memories.
Could you talk more about that and how
your photos are connected to themes of
place and identity?
CH: Living is very ethereal—like smoke
from a cigarette. We certainly produce
it, but as smoke, it disappears. So, on
a very personal level, my photographs
are another aspect of keeping a journal.
I keep a journal to unload what has
happened during the day and to have
that as a record that today actually
happened and then as another record of
how I internally process today.
I also tried to get the smoke of the
reality of people in a time before me.
This was a 10-year project looking at
historical photographs made of my
people by other photographers, 99%
White. I spent years going back and
forth to the Library of Congress, going to
see the FSA photographs, going through
the archives of Black colleges or universities
and public libraries. And then
doing more primary research by trying
to locate the family historian in different
communities to see what they had in
their shoeboxes underneath the bed. I
looked for the pictures that I would have
made. That had the same sensitivity that
I would have had, had I been on-site.
I didn’t want to take anybody else’s
pictures though, so I came up with an
idea that I needed a nice, big negative.
I started shooting four by fives with a
light stand that I took with me. I would
have pictures that I fell in love with and
copied. Those copies gradually grew to
many hundreds of contact sheets. And
eventually I was able to do a book called
Some Time Ago: A Historical Portrait of
Black Americans from 1850–1950.
DC: Can you tell me about what first
took you to Africa?
CH: In America, as a Black person, you
are convinced that you’re not American
because you’re not accepted. Your
sense of history comes from people
who despise you, which means that
it can only be warped. As a student
with a minor in sociology, I understood
that if I was going to find out about the
multiplicity of who I and we are as a
people, I had to create my own sources.
And those sources had to be in Africa
because the American academy had
already proven inadequate to that task.
I started spending summers in Africa
hanging out with my ‘cousins’ to learn
from their side. I learned Asante culture
in Ghana, Islamic and Wallof culture in
Senegal, Amharic culture in Ethiopia. I
had a job that took me to Egypt in 1973,
but then the October war broke out,
and I was stuck for another four weeks.
It would turn out to be great for me
because I got a chance to spend more
time at the museum and antiquity sites
and interrogate these things in front of
me that I had had no idea existed, that
no history book told me about. All that
56 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
“There is no one like you” a couple’s passionate embrace.
Brooklyn, New York 1987. © Chester Higgins.
All Rights Reserved.
interrogation is part of the memories,
the memories coming back alive only
because there is physical evidence that
remains of those previous lives that make
up the experience of the African people.
DC: Tell me about the inspiration behind
your latest book, Sacred Nile.
CH: It’s a product of five decades of
work that looks at how the Nile as a
migratory bridge connected Ethiopia,
Sudan and Egypt and how it shares its
cultures back and forth. It’s looking at the
earliest remnants of culture, that belief in
the sun and the sky that was developed
by Ethiopians migrating down the river
into Sudan and then further migrating
into ancient Egypt. And then over time,
after 7,000 years, it reversed.
The ancient nature religion of Egypt,
Ethiopia and Sudan bifurcated and
became the patriarch religions of the
Old Testament, the New Testament and
Islam. So 7,000 years earlier, what
went downstream, 7,000 years later
something else comes back upstream.
In Feeling the Spirit, I’m trying to
show that we all have similarities. We
have our differences, but the differences
are usually nationalistic, not cultural.
And the cultural differences hold us
together. So, in the book, I’ll have a
picture of something that you recognize,
say a mother. She could be in Alabama
and in the next picture, she’s in Ghana.
The next picture, she may be in Nigeria.
With Sacred Nile, my hope
is that we recognize our history.
Because it’s not something that we
have been taught…. I tell people,
slavery is not the beginning of our
history. Slavery is an interruption of
our history.
DC: It seems one of your main
goals is capturing the spirit that’s
present in all things, that transcends
the labels that we put on ourselves
and each other. Could you tell me
more about why that’s so important
to you and the techniques you use
to bring that out in your work?
CH: I had an out-of-body death
experience when I was nine years
old. Early in the morning, I hear
this sound in my room and it’s in
my head not in the air and I open my
eyes and see this big circle of white
light on the wall. And this Black man
standing in the middle with his hands
raised, wearing a toga. He begins to
walk toward me and says, “I come for
you,” and I’m scared but I’m pissed.
I’ve heard about this angel of death,
but I’m only nine years old. And what
the fuck, I gotta die? So, I scream. My
parents and grandparents came in. My
mother was at the foot of the bed holding
my hands and I began to feel I was
ascending and she was getting smaller.
She kept rubbing my hands so viciously
that at some point, it must have worked
because I came back down. But when I
was seeing her getting smaller, it made
me realize this is what dying is like.
Then I begin to intuitively realize there’s
a parallel thing going on here. Because
I’m dying and she’s there living and
I’m beginning to get a feel for a whole
other kind of reality. So, I put that away,
but I’ve always benefited from that.
Whenever I see something, I know that
there is something else behind it. What
it appears to be is only one dimension
of it. But the other dimensions that
are really pulling the strings going on
behind it are a lot more interesting.
DC: So, when you’re making the photographs,
it’s in the multi-dimensional
reality and you’re allowing that which is
beyond the surface to emerge and that’s
what you’re capturing.
CH: At that moment when the shutter is
pressed, I have to make that decision.
Every photographer has to make that
decision based on whatever their reality
is about. My reality is the same as
yours on one level, but there’s something
underneath that speaks to me. There’s a
certain timeless quality to my imagery,
and it cannot be arrested. The simplest
arrested photograph is a fashion
photograph. It gets arrested in time. I’m
always trying to create an image that
does not get arrested in time. I’m surfing
on the spirit.
Solar Aksumite Obelisk in Ethiopian highlands stands as a Royal tomb marker. 2016. © Chester Higgins. All
Rights Reserved.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 57
BOOK
REVIEWS
CHRIS KILLIP
Thames and Hudson, 2023
256 pages / $75
The book opens with two softly lit,
full bleed head and shoulder portraits
of a young brother and sister.
The faces stare back at us, one (fouryear
old Chris), with a slight smile, a
hint of rascal, open with possibility. The
other, (five-year old Anthean) is already
set, tinged with sadness, maybe a bit of
anger, resigned to a life without possibilities.
It is impossible not to wonder
what happened to them.
This begins our journey through Chris
Killip, the aptly titled monograph of one
of Britain’s most important, but least well
known, documentary photographers.
Killip’s black and white images, a mix of
portraiture and candid reportage, are an
empathetic rendering of working class
life in 1970s and 1980s Britain when
jobs disappeared and communities were
destroyed by gentrification and then a
spiral into poverty.
The book is divided into four chapters
that roughly mirror Killip’s main projects:
work from the Isle of Man; the Edgelands,
which included projects from Askam,
Skinninggrove and the seacoalers from
Lynemouth; the North Country; and The
Last Stories, a hodgepodge of work made
later in Killip’s life. Each section features
an essay either about Killip or his work.
Killip’s images do what traditional
documentary photography does best:
create an origami of time as past
present and future converge and unfold
like warped spacetime. He describes
photographs as “a chronicle of a death
foretold’ and that awareness is clear in
his photographs. It is not only the death
of the person, but the death of a way of
life. These are people to whom history
happened.
Killip photographed with a large
format camera, not the traditional 35mm
of his peers. The detail and expanded
tonality from a large negative, while not
so apparent in the book, is on display in
the amazing retrospective and traveling
exhibit at the Photographer’s Gallery
Cookie in the snow, Seacoal Camp, Northumbria, 1984 © Chris Killip Photography Trust/Magnum Photos
in London, curated by Ken Grant and
Tracy Marshall-Grant. (The book is
an expanded exhibition catalogue.)
The prints are exquisite and proof that
whenever possible we need to see
photographs on the wall.
In part because Killip was not
shooting with a 35mm camera, his work
is quintessential slow documentary. The
simple act of setting up a bulky camera
on a tripod creates a performative
space for the subject and photographer.
Often, we characterize portraits as either
mirroring the subject or revealing the
photographer. His do both. Also, these
are not extractive images. Killip knows
the people and places and because
of that we know them and him. The
photographs are familiar and intimate,
and you sense that Killip would return to
visit these people without his camera.
A lot of current debate in the
documentary world swirls around the
idea of insider versus outsider or who
should be allowed to photograph whom.
Killip’s images tilt towards the value of
being an insider or being willing to stay
long enough to become one. While
clearly an insider for the photographs he
took on the Isle of Man (where he grew
up), he became an insider for his other
projects through persistence.
For example, in his project on the seacoalers,
(men who make their living by
driving horse-drawn carts to collect and
sell coal washed up on beaches when the
tide recedes), he was chased off several
times until a serendipitous meeting at a
local pub with a man he had previously
photographed gave him a slight inside
edge. Still he didn’t feel he understood
the seacoalers well enough, so he bought
a caravan and parked it on the beach
at Lynemouth so he would have a sense
of the rhythm of the place, and to better
understand these men, he often invited
them into his warm caravan for tea.
This is very slow photography indeed
and because of that he makes the random,
accidental, and fragmentary details
of everyday existence meaningful while
preserving the actual details of the scene.
Killip’s image, “Cookie in the snow,
1984” —only possible because he was
living in the caravan—features “Cookie”
looking like a black apparition, leaning
into the wind and snow carrying a bag
(maybe of coal). The image is so visceral
we feel what a bone-weary job Cookie
has.
If the book has a weakness, it is the
editing and design. Less is more, but not
in this book. Trying to include too many
photographs, while understandable for
a retrospective, forces a design of often
cramming too many small images on
a page, which doesn’t do any of them
justice, or the odd choice of always
staggering two vertical images per page,
which creates a checkboard pattern. The
design works best with one image per
page, large enough for us to get lost in
the details of a large negative.
—Michelle Bogre
58 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
BEAUTIFUL, STILL
by Colby Deal
Mack, 2022 | 160 pages | $55
Colby Deal’s first monograph
Beautiful, Still is filled with photographs
in motion. A face turns
to the side and leaves a trail of light,
a child crawls in his mother’s arms.
Between the shutter’s open and close,
subjects move, leaving behind only a
trace: a flick of a person, of a place,
of a moment in time in Houston’s Third
Ward. These images in motion are a
reminder that traces can tell a whole
story. There is power in nuance.
Beautiful, Still carries itself like a family
album. The cover, a deep red with an
embedded gold title, holds black and
white images that seem to come from
no particular time. In grayscale, the
story separates from the specific, that
is the documentation of this community.
Disentangled from color, the images
represent more than the particular, and
begin to read more abstractly. The specific
is further complicated by variations in
style. Crisp portraits accompany blurry
still lives and bright whites of day are
countered by photographs from a night
stroll. In these visual antonyms Deal tries
to capture the broadest sense of the Third
Ward community in anticipation of death
by gentrification.
The Third Ward is historically Black.
Following the Civil War and into the
1950s White flight, the area became
predominantly African American – not
solely on the basis of population, but in
all aspects: the only African-American
owned bank (Unity), a non-profit hospital
for Black patients staffed by Black doctors
(Riverside), and multiple civil rights organizations.
The Third Ward is also a catch-all
name for multiple communities. As Garry
Reece puts it in the brilliant afterword to
the book, “which Third Ward we visited
depended on which auntie we visited.”
For the last couple of decades there has
been a White resurgence, a wave of gentrification.
A University of Houston (UH)
webpage dedicated to the Third Ward
describes the university’s own initiatives
to “revitalize” and “enhance” the area.
Reece, on the other hand, addresses UH
as one of the biggest drivers of gentrification.
From this process, in any way it’s
named, comes the urgency of Beautiful,
Still and the attempt to capture what may
be soon gone.
There is a ghostliness to the book.
Particularly spectral are several images of
women dressed in white. Their bleached
white dresses pierce through the gray
of the photograph. Deal enhances
this ghostliness by inviting in dust and
scratches. Rather than removing this
added layer, Deal allows it to function as
its own presence. This creative decision
is one of many in the making of this
book, which mark the tension between
documentary practice and art, between
the concrete and the abstract, between
the word and the poem.
This tension in Beautiful, Still is owed
in part to the complexity of subject matter.
Historical fact, personal relationships,
and photographic technique all precede
this book. To address the various facets,
Deal packs the book with an abundance
of photographs, often piling together four
images into a single spread. One of the
strengths of the work then becomes its
weakness, as the big picture outshines
the individual photograph. While many
images together allow the artist to build a
comprehensive narrative, there is power
to be found in a single picture and in the
space between photographs.
While the sequencing in Beautiful,
Still reads as poetry, there is also a sense
of loss. Beautiful, Still is a broad and
aesthetic journey through the Third Ward
Colby Deal, Image from Beautiful, Still. (MACK,
2022). Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
and Deal’s photography is both delicate
and powerful. Even so, and especially
owing to this artistry, much of the book
could have been said with fewer words.
In this book are outstanding individual
photographs which stand out as
microcosms. One such image is simply
a street view. The photograph seems to
split at the equator: the north is a house
with blocked out windows, and the south
is a grassy piece of earth. The focus
falls somewhat in the center, on a white,
studded lounge chair. It’s worn out and
torn, and still dazzling white, as if just
washed. It is a trace of life, forgotten and
left behind, yet still precious. Then there
are the shoes. One lies abandoned by
the chair, and the other is attached to a
body in motion. The person moves too
quickly for the shutter to capture, but the
shoe stays still. Crisp. This is an image
meant to be read for hours, to be looked
at over again. In it is the trace of a
place. In it is the resolution of the tension
between documentary practice and art,
concrete and abstract, word and poem.
—Dana Melevar
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 59
BRIEFLY
NOTED
EDITED BY MARISSA FIORUCCI
A TIME BEFORE CRACK
By Jamel Shabazz
powerHouse, 2022 | 184 pages | $40
Once upon a time before
crack, inner-city communities
were vastly different. Where
now you see drug wars tearing
families apart with violence and
addiction, there were once vibrant
and eclectic neighborhoods filled
to the brim with culture and style.
Thankfully, photojournalist Jamel
Shabazz was on the scene throughout
these decades, working the streets of
New York City, capturing the faces
and places of an era that has long
since disappeared.
Best known as Hip Hop’s finest
fashion photographer for his blockbuster
best-selling monograph, Back in
the Days (powerHouse Books, 2001),
Shabazz revisited his archive and
unearthed an extraordinary collection
of never-before-published documentary
photographs compiled for his third
powerHouse Books release, A Time
Before Crack. This collection serves as
a visual record of the streets of New
York City from the mid-seventies to
the mid-eighties. Shabazz’s distinctive
photographs reveal the families, the
poses, and the players who made this
an extraordinary age, before crack
changed everything.
60 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
SOME SAY ICE
By Alessandra Sanguinetti
Mack Books, 2022 | 160 pages | $70
Since 2014, Alessandra
Sanguinetti has been returning
to the small town of Black
River Falls in Wisconsin, creating the
photographs that would become the
stark, black-and-white series Some
Say Ice. The same town is the subject
of Wisconsin Death Trip, a book of
photographs taken by Charles Van
Schaick in the late 1800s documenting
the bleak hardships of the
lives and deaths of its inhabitants.
Sanguinetti first came across this
book as a child and the experience
is engraved into her memory as her
first reckoning with mortality. Van
Schaick’s work inspired her to explore
the strange relationship of photography
and death, ultimately leading
to her own photographic project on
Black River Falls.
The austere, sculptural scenes and
ambiguous, uneasy portraits that make
up Some Say Ice depict a place almost
outside of time. Presented unadorned
by text or explication, the photographs
Alessandra Sanguinetti, from Some Say Ice (MACK, 2022). Courtesy of the
artist and MACK.
are touched with the spirit of the gothic
as well as the unmistakable tenderness
familiar from Sanguinetti’s 2003 series
The Adventures of Guille and Belinda.
By bringing undercurrents of doubt
and darkness to the surface of her
images, Sanguinetti alludes to things
absent or invisible, playing on atmospheres
both real and imagined, as
well as the ghostly possibility of undoing
death through the act of photography.
With its title inspired by Robert
Frost’s famous poem equivocating on
how best one’s inevitable death might
be met, Some Say Ice is a humane
look at the melancholic realities underpinning
our lives as seen with glacial
clarity by one of the world’s foremost
photographers.
FOREST FOR THE TREES
By Rita Leistner
Dewi Lewis, 2021 | 256 pages | $55
In her early years, Rita Leistner
planted over half a million trees
in an attempt to save her beloved
forests. She spent the next twenty
years working as an award-winning
documentary photographer and
photojournalist, primarily in war
zones. In 2016, she returned to
the vast swathes of Canadian land
cleared by logging, living with and
documenting a community of 100
tree planters in the planting camps of
Coast Range Contracting.
Leistner spent four years creating
heroic and uncanny portraits of the
hardworking planters, the physical
toll of their sacrifice, and the precious
landscapes they tend. In addition to the
book, this project resulted in large-scale
works that are now in major collections
in Canada as well as the awardwinning
documentary film Forest for the
Trees (2021).
LOVE FROM MANENBERG
By Sarah Stacke
Kehrer, 2023 | 256 pages | $55
Love from Manenberg looks at
life in Manenberg, South Africa,
in particular the experiences of
women and their children. The work
makes room for complex narratives
pushed aside by the media and shows
the ways families look to the future
and carry the joy, grief, and everyday
realities of life in a community
plagued by gang violence. Through
fortitude and faith, they persevere
and prosper.
Stacke first photographed
Manenberg, a neighborhood of
Cape Town, in June 2011. For over a
decade, the women of the Lottering,
Pietersen, and Adams families shared
their lives, showing the texture, unity,
and comfort of Manenberg – their
home. The title of the book reflects the
love these women embody, but also
describes the relationships Stacke has
formed with them. They have become
a part of the fabric of each other’s
lives.
ON RAPE: AND
INSTITUTIONAL FAILURE
By Laia Abril
Dewi Lewis, 2022
228 pages | $50
On Rape is a visualization of
the origin of gender-based
stereotypes and myths, as
well as the failing structures of law
and order, that continue to perpetuate
rape culture. Abril explores why the
structure of justice and law enforcement
are not only failing survivors but
actually encouraging perpetrators by
preserving particular power dynamics
and social norms. To avoid feeding
the systemic victim-blaming society,
Abril switches the visual narrative from
the survivors to the institutions, allowing
her the opportunity to address
transgenerational trauma and social
accountability. Her book interweaves
compiled testimonies, political proclamations,
historical archives, popular
and traditional beliefs, as well as
society’s structural failures to deal
with sexual violence. On Rape is the
second chapter of Laia Abril’s longterm
project A History of Misogyny,
a visual compilation of historical and
contemporary comparisons of the systemic
control of women in the world.
WITCH HUNT
By Christo Geoghegan
DAP, 2023 | 424 pages | $55
“Shawi” is a term used in
Balsapuerto, a deeply isolated
district of Peru, to define
Indigenous persons who are skilled
in the use of ethnomedicine and its
botanical as well as spiritual components.
In 2011, over the course
of 10 months, 14 Indigenous Shawi
healers were brutally murdered for the
region’s ultimate crime: witchcraft. The
most perplexing aspect of this story is
not the modern-day witchhunt, but the
bizarre conspiracy theories around the
killing spree.
Christo Geoghegan’s Witch Hunt is
a fascinating investigation into these
murders. This real-world horror story
unfolds through photographs, original
artwork, interviews, police records, and
other archival materials. His haunting
color portraits bring the community
characters in this stunning account to
life. As you turn the pages through this
collection of evidence, the truth behind
the murdered and their perpetrators
becomes as mysterious as the alleged
witchcraft itself.
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 61
Contributors
Rasha Al Jundi is a Palestinian visual
storyteller who grew up in the UAE. Moving to
Lebanon for higher education, she worked with
partners to coordinate rural development and
environmental programs. An Ian Parry scholar
and graduate of the Documentary and Visual
Photojournalism program at the International
Center for Photography, she attempts to
decolonize oversimplified narratives around
historical injustices and their contemporary
impact on individuals and marginalized groups.
Barbara Ayotte is the editor of ZEKE magazine
and the Communications Director of the Social
Documentary Network. She has served as a
senior strategic communications strategist, writer
and activist for leading global health, human
rights and media nonprofit organizations, including
the Nobel Peace Prize- winning Physicians for
Human Rights and International Campaign to Ban
Landmines.
Michelle Bogre currently holds the title of
Professor Emerita from Parsons School of Design
in New York after a 25-year career teaching
almost every type of photography class. She
is also a copyright lawyer, documentary
photographer and author of four books, with
work published in various other books. She is
currently trying to finish a long-term documentary
project on family farms – @thefarmstories on
Instagram – among other projects.
Italian photojournalist Cinzia Canneri has
a Masters in Photojournalism from WSP in
Rome, a degree in Psychology and extensive
experience working in a mental health
department. Specializing in stories about the
human condition, social change, gender and
immigration issues, she has worked extensively
in the Horn of Africa. Published in various
international magazines such as The New York
Times, her work has won two awards.
Daniela Cohen is a freelance journalist and
non-fiction writer of South African origin based
in Vancouver, Canada. Her work has been
published in New Canadian Media, Canadian
Immigrant, eJewish Philanthropy, The Source
Newspaper, and Living Hyphen. Daniela’s work
focuses on themes of displacement and belonging,
justice, equity, diversity and inclusion. She
is also the co-founder of Identity Pages, a youth
writing mentorship program.
Sicilian-born Antonio Denti is an awardwinning
news cameraman, in love with still
photography. A Reuters staff video journalist for
over 20 years, he covered conflict in Kosovo,
Afghanistan, Iraq, Israel, Gaza, Lebanon. His
award-winning still pictures have been featured
in various international online photography
publications. He believes that visual storytelling
can help counter the contemporary
tendency towards results-focused, standardized
journalism, creating more authentic, respectful
narratives.
Maxim Dondyuk is a Ukrainian visual artist
working in documentary photography. His
works often explore issues relating to history,
memory, conflict, and their consequences
and integrate multiple mediums including
photography, video, text, and archival
material. Projects include ‘Crimea Sich,’
‘Culture of Confrontation,’ and the ongoing
‘Untitled Project from Chernobyl.’ Exhibited
internationally, his work has been widely
awarded, including International Photographer
of the Year in the Lucie Awards.
Marissa Fiorucci is a freelance photographer
in Boston, MA. She is former studio manager
for photographer Mark Ostow and worked
on projects including portraits of the Obama
Cabinet for Politico. She specializes in corporate
portraits and events, but remains passionate
about documentary.
Nicola Ókin Frioli is an Italian freelance
photographer. A fine arts graduate, he
has worked for 20 years in documentary
photography and advertising campaigns,
traveling mainly in Mexico and the Ecuadorian
Amazon. His work has been published in
magazines such as Washington Post, Time
Magazine, The Guardian, Stern, El País
Semanal and others. He has received numerous
awards and held exhibitions in various
countries.
Named by All About Photo as one of the best
modern photographers, Svet Jacqueline
documented the Black Lives Matter movement
in her book, 100 Days of Protest, migration at
the U.S.-Mexico border and the cycle of poverty
on Skid Row. After Russia invaded Ukraine,
she focused on visual stories around childhood
trauma in conflict zones and is a photo essayist
in Relentless Courage: Ukraine and the World
At War.
Julia Kochetova is a Ukrainian photojournalist
and documentary filmmaker focused on issues of
the war generation, post-traumatic stress disorder
and feminism. She has covered the Maidan
revolution, annexation of Crimea, and Russia-
Ukraine war. Her work has been presented at
exhibitions in various countries and published
in outlets such as Vice News and others. Since
February 24, she has been writing a visual diary
via Instagram – @seameer
Evgeniy Maloletka is a Ukrainian conflict
photographer, journalist and filmmaker,
who has been covering the war in Ukraine
since 2014 “to show the world what is really
happening on the ground.” During the Russian
invasion of Ukraine, Maloletka and his
Associated Press colleague stayed in Mariupol,
which was encircled by Russian troops and
extensively bombed. His photographs there
were extensively used for coverage by Western
media and won multiple awards.
Dana Melaver is a writer and artist. Her work
is rooted in the belief that everything is interesting,
and often acts as a bridge among art,
thought, and the sciences. Dana's most recent
projects include an experimental documentary
about sustainable aquaculture, and an ode to the
mischievous qualities of light.
Nyani Quarmyne is a freelance
photographer focused on global health,
the environment, and our shared humanity,
published in the New York Times, El País, and
others. His commissioned work ranges from
documenting famine in the Sahel, to grassroots
connectivity efforts in Kyrgyzstan, to CSR
projects for global brands. Personal work
includes the global snakebite crisis, climate
change, and exploring the lives of a cloister of
nuns in the Caucasus mountains.
Jean Ross is a California-born documentary
and street photographer exploring the interplay
between people and place. Studying at the
International Center of Photography, her work
has been featured in solo and group exhibitions
in the U.S. and Mexico and several online
publications. As a public policy researcher and
advocate, she has sought to reduce inequality
and promote economic and human rights
nationally and abroad.
Istanbul-based Mustafa Bilge Satkın is
an independent award-winning documentary
photographer with a doctorate in photography
from Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University. Primarily
focused on the Middle East, his work has been
published by Anadolu Agency and others, and
he has participated in national and international
solo and group exhibitions. With the hope for
a better world, he focuses on social injustice,
climate change, and migration issues.
Artist, educator, and environmental activist,
Michael O. Snyder is a photographer and
filmmaker who uses his combined knowledge
of visual storytelling and conservation to create
narratives that drive social impact. Michael is a
Portrait of Humanity Award Winner, a Climate
Journalism Fellow at the Bertha Foundation, a
Blue Earth Alliance Photographer, a National
Geographic Contributor, and a Resident Artist
at the McGuffey Art Center in Charlottesville,
Virginia, among others.
Lauren Walsh is a professor at New
York University, Director of the Gallatin
Photojournalism Lab and a leading expert
on the visual coverage of conflict and crisis.
She is the author of Conversations on Conflict
Photography (2019) and Through the Lens:
The Pandemic and Black Lives Matter (2022)
and the lead educator for new curricula on
media and visual literacy, as part of the Content
Authenticity Initiative.
62 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
The Foundation for Systemic Change (FSC) is proud
to support the 2023 Zeke Award for Systemic Change.
Congratulations to this
year's winner for your
powerful exhibit highlighting
the native peoples
of the Ecuadorian
Amazon and their
ongoing fight against
extractivism.
foundationforsytemicchange.org
Photograph by 2023 ZEKE Award for Systemic Change winner Nikola Ókin Frioli
ZEKE SPRING 2023/ 63
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THE MAGAZINE OF GLOBAL DOCUMENTARY
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ZEKE is published by Social Documentary Network (SDN),
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global themes. Started as a website in 2008, today SDN
works with thousands of photographers around the world to tell
important stories through the visual medium of photography.
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website and has had gallery exhibitions in major cities around
the world. All the work featured in ZEKE first appeared on the
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64 / ZEKE SPRING 2023
PROFILE: COVER PHOTOGRAPHER
Cinzia Canneri
Documenting Women’s Bodies as
Battlefield
By Daniela Cohen
Born in Italy, Cinzia Canneri started
photography at a young age, but her
20-year career as a psychologist in a
hospital and raising her two daughters
prevented her from continuing. Yet photography
stayed in her mind and heart, and once
her daughters were older, Canneri resumed
her art, becoming a photojournalist.
Her first project, “Like two wings,” in
2016 documented the effects of asbestos on
workers and their families, who she said,
“breathe the dust of asbestos in the house
because of the clothes of their husbands….”
Published in the New York Times Lens Blog,
this work won two awards.
Canneri then decided to use her privilege
to highlight social issues in places previously
colonized by her country. This, together
with her desire to understand why most
Eritrean refugees arriving in Italy were men,
led her to travel to the border between
Ethiopia and Eritrea in 2017. Initially, she
documented women fleeing Eritrea, which
she called “the second worst dictatorship
after North Korea.” Canneri named their
immigration experience “the still journey,”
explaining that women’s journeys can last
up to 20 years or even a lifetime because
they decide to remain in Africa, often at the
border, because they have children and are
waiting for their husbands.
Following the invasion of Tigray by the
Ethiopian federal army supported by the
Eritrean military forces and Amhara militia
in November 2020, Canneri expanded her
focus to include Tigrinya women, documenting
the sexual violence perpetrated
by the Eritrean army against both Eritrean
and Tigrinya women escaping to Sudan or
Addis Ababa.
“Sexual violence was used against
Eritrean women because they escaped
that country, against Tigrinya women
because they wanted to exterminate them,”
Canneri said. “Systematic targeting of
women’s bodies has come to light as being
a strategy during war.”
She said that sexual violence is also
prevalent in peace time, because of the
paternalistic culture women are living in.
There is “cultural acceptance of this violence
against women’s bodies because they
are vulnerable, because they cannot speak
out for themselves,” said Canneri.
Canneri’s work is a way to give these
women a voice. “Even though words are
not spoken, … there’s such a strength of
voice about what is taking place for these
women in a time of war, a time of peace,
yet both are so violent,” she said. “When
we’re looking at the Eritrean women
and also the Tigrinya women, there is no
division between ‘our women’ and ‘their
women’. They are women and … sex is
being used as a tool to punish.”
For Canneri, it is important to also
document these women’s strength, as they
raise their children in this context and support
each other across ethnicities. In one of
her photos, Eritrean and Tigrinya women
are seen praying together for their children.
In the cover photo for this issue of
ZEKE, a woman who recently arrived at
Um Rakuba refugee camp in Sudan with
her two children holds a religious pendant
from her husband left behind, telling
Canneri, “It is the only object I have of my
past life.”
Canneri wants to raise awareness that
true peace needs to go beyond political
agreements to respect human rights, with
the first step recognizing the victims and
the sexual violence using women’s bodies
as a battlefield.
ZEKE
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