Photography hides things; it hides details, the things outside of the frame, the time before and after the moment the shutter opens then closes. It can hide things in full sight, through the guise of revealing and making visible, upon which judgements are made and actions carried out.
Photographs from above, from a before time and a terrifying after time, of the destruction of Gaza, today and over the past four weeks. A quarter of the buildings in northern Gaza have been destroyed. Photographs from above show details, show overviews of astonishing destruction, but simultaneously show me nothing.
Today, all communications have been closed off for the second time, so that no information is coming out of Gaza or can aiding hospitals or food supplies. I heard on the news that ambulances simply have to drive towards the sound of explosions, hoping they can help. And children are being killed.
Last week I re-ead 'Vectors of Looking' by Ella Chmielewska, which explores a series of photogrpahy taken of Warsaw before the bombing of the city by the Luftwaffe, surveying the city for the purposes of reconstruction. I'm thinking about the descriptions she offers of the dust of ruins and the mixing of materials (and bodies) that occurs in the moments that a bomb hits a building, or destroys an home with a family in it. Sitting with these thoughts today.
Chmielewska, E 2013, Vectors of Looking: Reflections on the Luftwaffe's Aerial Survey of Warsaw, 1944. in M Dorrian & F Pousin (eds), Seeing from Above : The Aerial View in Visual Culture. I.B. Tauris, London, pp. 227–248.
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