Seamus Conlan: Lost and Found
In Rwanda in 1994 covering a notoriously lethal civil war, photojournalist Seamus Conlan found himself suddenly and unexpectedly reassigned, not by a magazine or newspaper editor, but by his conscience. “I was working in Rwanda as a freelance photographer doing documentation on the lost children, a very big problem and a huge story,” says Conlan. “As I was riding in the back of a truck, photographing the orphans and collecting them at the same time, I decided to take a photo of every child as a means of tracing them.”
Conlan dropped out of photojournalism to complete his self-assigned new mission, photographing 21,000 orphans over a period of a year and a half. But because the children were known by ambiguous names such as Child of Hope or No Man Should Dishonor Me — “There were no John Smiths” — Conlan completed his tracing solution by posting the photographs on billboards sorted by place of origin. “If a child came from Kigali, the parents would go to that billboard, point to the child, give the ID number to the Red Cross and take that child home.”
Conlan’s photographic tracking method is now used by all major relief agencies. The photographic activism that forged the solution derives from his unconventional view of the photojournalist role. “I believe that a good photojournalist is 95% a journalist, and only 5% a photographer. If you’re only a photographer, then you’re only going to make pretty pictures. I am a committed journalist, so I do my best obviously to portray the situation the way it is — and then do something about it.”
Africa Redux
After launching a large photographic exhibition of the lost children images that toured the world until 2001, Conlan returned as a photojournalist, again chiefly covering areas of conflict. But when he was invited back to Africa as part of the corps of photographers assigned to shoot the continent in a single-day, all-digital shoot, Conlan opted for a more life-affirming theme, tracing man’s roots in Namibia.
“It turned out that it was too complicated to find the single place of origin because of a controversy among the anthropologists,” says Conlan. “Instead, I was able to find the oldest surviving tribe in Africa, previously called the Bushmen, now referred to as the San people. The San are linked to the oldest human beings on the planet, so in a way I did go back to man’s roots.”
“I believe that a good photojournalist is 95% a journalist, and only 5% a photographer.”
A Caged Tribe
Unknowingly, Conlan had also found another “lost” cause. “I drove 2.5 thousand kilometers across the desert and found that the San were penned off into 800 kilometer areas. Where traditionally they would go out to hunt, because of all the new game farms, they are now caged off to keep them away from the animals. These people are living off of bits of root. I went out to portray this beautiful and romantic life, but there wasn’t any. Maybe 10 years ago I would have got the antelope being hunted and all this family cook fest going on. It doesn’t happen any more.”
As in Rwanda, Conlan addressed the issue with a camera, this time a digital camera, recording with late-model technology rare images of a people cut off physically from their past, but still deeply engaged with their spiritual traditions. “They’re the most beautiful people I’ve ever come across, completely pure, uninfluenced by television, radio and newspapers, although obviously affected by politics. I shot a traditional San hunting dance that induces a trance state intended to help them locate and bring back the animals,” he says.
