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Visa Pour L'image, Perpignan 2022

Posted on July 27, 2022 - By Visa Pour L'image
Visa Pour L
Visa Pour L

August 27 - September 11, 2022

34th International Festival of Photojournalism

Yet another year where photojournalists have been prominent in tragedy. First there was Afghanistan, then Ukraine, not to mention so many other theaters of war, violence and atrocities standing as clear and often cruel evidence to prove that photojournalism is a leader in advocating human rights, condemning war crimes, and defending freedom of information, i.e. the right to critical information in a context of democratic debate.
Photojournalists, through their physical bravery and their quest for truth, in their investigations constantly pursuing facts and evidence, deserve our gratitude. They are soldiers of peace and deserve our active support so that they can carry out their professional duties under increasingly difficult and adverse circumstances.
Yet another year, and this time we shall be together in Perpignan, celebrating the city known internationally as the capital of photojournalism extending a welcome to photojournalists from across the world, with participation from French national authorities, the region of Occitania, the département des Pyrénées-Orientales, Perpignan Méditerranée Métropole, and the City of Perpignan, together with all the partners from the private sector and the different teams working on the festival to make Visa pour l'Image - Perpignan the major event that it is. All parties concerned are pleased and proud to speak up, to speak out, for the 34 th time, stating their admiration for photojournalism and reiterating their support for photography.
My personal ambition is for us to emerge from the crisis of the pandemic and have the festival renew ties and acquaintances with everyone involved in photojournalism around the world, with all the professionals who have chosen to work in photography and are doing so with such spirit across the globe.
I wish to invite not only the professionals in the world of photography, but also amateurs, and all advocates and supporters of freedom to come and explore the many exhibitions displayed in the city of Perpignan, and to come and marvel at the stunning evening programs on the giant screen in Campo Santo.
Yes, come and applaud the work of photojournalists whose range of interests and commitments also go beyond the horrors of the world to perceive the delicacy and beauty of nature, the environment and the human soul.

Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres: President of the Association Visa pour l'Image - Perpignan

Vyacheslav Veremiy - Andrea Rocchelli - Andrei Mironov - Igor Kornelyuk - Anton Voloshin - Anatoly Klyan - Andrei Stenin - Serhiy Nikolayev - Pavel Sheremet - Vadym Komarov - Yevhenii Sakun - Roman Nezhyborets - Brent Renaud - Maks Levin - Oleksandra Kuvshynova - Pierre Zakrzewski - Oksana Baulina - Mantas Kverdaravicius - Vira Hyrych - Oleksandr Makhov.

Since 2014, the Committee to Protect Journalists has recorded the deaths of twenty journalists in Ukraine, twenty at the time of writing this editorial. Eight years have gone by since Crimea was annexed and fighting broke out in the separatist regions of the Donbas - eight years of war being waged in eastern Europe.
But Ukraine is not the only country where journalists are losing their lives. Since the beginning of the year, far from headline news stories, some ten reporters have been killed in cold blood in Mexico. And no one could forget the death of Shireen Abu Akleh, shot in the head, reportedly by Israeli forces.
But this year Ukraine has been the main focus. So what should a festival of photojournalism such as Visa pour l'Image do in response to such an event? In September last year, pictures were screened at Campo Santo showing Afghans fleeing the return of the Taliban, scrambling over planes on the tarmac at Kabul airport. Who could have thought then that such images would be swept from world headlines? No one perhaps, but certainly we had not imagined the prospect. This year we will obviously be featuring Ukraine, giving the story the coverage it deserves, but we shall not be restricting the program to one single event, no matter how important it is.
What's more, this latest war has highlighted, yet again, so many of the issues confronting professional photographers, while also uncovering new developments in photography. Key reports have presented the news in the midst of the confusion of war, with substantial input from members of the visual investigation team of The New York Times, working together with their reporters in the field and presenting incontrovertible evidence to contradict the ''fake news'' spread by Russia on the Bucha massacre. And they have provided evidence of atrocities being committed on both sides, confirming the authenticity of a video showing Ukrainian soldiers executing a Russian soldier.
Such developments should not be seen as yet one more nail in the coffin of ''conventional'' photojournalism, but rather as an additional tool in the news ecosystem providing even stronger backing for stories reported in still pictures and which, here at Visa pour l'Image, is what we have been acclaiming and encouraging for so many years.
Looking inside the ecosystem, credit must be given to the exemplary and essential work done by the news agencies (AFP, AP, Reuters, Getty and more). Their networks of reporters, fixers and sources, their logistics and know-how make it possible for media around the world to present day-to-day coverage of the war. In September, we will have the privilege of presenting these pictures, exhibited on the walls in Perpignan and on the giant screen at Campo Santo for all our visitors to see.

Jean-François Leroy: Director-General, Visa pour l'Image - Perpignan

Sameer Al-Doumy

Un migrant sous sa tente dans un camp de fortune en périphérie de Calais. 14 août 2020. © Sameer Al-Doumy/ AFP Lauréat du Visa d’or humanitaire du Comité international de la Croix-Rouge (CICR) 2022

Sameer Al-Doumy/AFP
Winner of the 2022 Humanitarian Visa d'or Award - International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC)
Fatal Crossings
The report, covering the period from August 2020 to May 2022, presents the migration crisis as experienced in the north of France. Many migrants have spent years crossing country after country, fleeing war or natural disaster, then reach the city of Calais on the French side of the strait that is the narrowest part of the English Channel. There they spend weeks in makeshift camps hoping and waiting to reach the United Kingdom, their ultimate destination. People traffickers charge 3,000 euros for each passenger boarding an inflatable dinghy with a small outboard motor to cross the Channel and land illegally in England in their quest for a new life. On November 24, 2021, an inflatable dinghy with 27 migrants on board sank off the coast of Calais. But such tragedies have no effect on migration policies, yet, according to observers, such policies aimed at border security are the cause of these dramas.
Between January 2021 and November 24 when the tragedy occurred, a total of 31,500 migrants crossed the Channel from France to the United Kingdom. For, since Brexit, with more stringent security checks at the port of Calais and the entrance to the Eurotunnel where migrants hide on board vehicles, more and more have been attempting to cross aboard flimsy dinghies. The crossing is fraught with danger and now, after the Mediterranean, the fear is that the English Channel could become a new maritime cemetery.
Sameer Al-Doumy

Ana María Arévalo Gosen
Winner of the 2021 Camille Lepage Award
Días Eternos: Venezuela, El Salvador, Guatemala (2017-2022)
We must not forget that when a woman is in prison, it is not one individual but an entire social network that is suffering. In the 21st century, the witch hunt continues: women excluded remain trapped. Lisset Coba, 2015

The dire situation of women in Latin American prisons is rarely visible but has repercussions throughout the region. The prison system is in a critical state almost everywhere in Latin America, and a woman behind bars can have a negative impact on an entire generation. This photographic work has focused on the situation of women in prisons in Venezuela, El Salvador and Guatemala, causing situations of great vulnerability and lifetime stigma. The set-up of most custodial centers cannot provide separate facilities for men and women. In Venezuela, for example, there is no remand center for women only. Prisons for women, such as Ilopango in El Salvador, have the same design and construction as men's prisons. Prisoners are not housed according to the offenses committed or by age group, and they can be held for long periods before their cases come to court. For transgender women, the experience is particularly cruel as they are denied their chosen sexual identity and are held in custody with male prisoners. For female prisoners there is no assistance offered to help them return to normal life and mainstream society; they are locked away in an atmosphere of distress and suffering, in overcrowded cells, deprived of everything, held for interminable remand periods, in violation of their fundamental human rights. © Ana María Arévalo Gosen Winner of the 2021 Camille Lepage Award What's more, women have fewer visitors than male prisoners, yet they desperately need such visits to survive the experience as contact with friends and family is an essential way of maintaining moral and mental health; it also provides for their material needs as the national authorities fail to supply proper food, medication and clothing. No doubt the most difficult challenge in prison for so many is for the mothers of young children. Of the three countries featured in this report, there is only one prison facility for women with children. The mothers are obviously pleased to have their babies and infants with them, but feel guilty for inflicting such living conditions on them. And once the child reaches a certain age (3 in Venezuela, 4 in Guatemala and 6 in El Salvador) they can no longer stay with their mothers. Yet despite all this, the women do have their own life, forming strong friendships and displaying great solidarity and resilience. Living together, they share everything: food, bedding, clothing and their own private stories. Their bodies become symbols of resistance as they rebel against a system which has deprived them of so much. They tattoo their bodies, and do their make-up and hairdos, because there are some things that cannot be taken away. Once the women leave prison, traumatized and rejected, theirs is a life without hope, without employment and with no support network outside prison. When released, they are therefore likely to return to the gangs they were involved with before, and return to a life of crime.
Ana María Arévalo Gosen

Maéva Bardy
The Tara Ocean Foundation with the participation of Le Figaro Magazine
The Twelfth Expedition of the Schooner Tara
The month of October 2022 marks the end of the twelfth Tara Ocean Foundation expedition. In late 2020, the Microbiome Mission set off with the vast ambition of studying invisible life in the ocean, investigating microscopic organisms little known even to scientists, and yet they are the foundations of the greater marine ecosystem. Over a total of 22 months, international specialists in biology and biogeochemistry together with skilled sailors have spent periods of time on board the schooner Tara, following paths once sailed by famous ships such as the HMS Beagle with Charles Darwin on board and Ernest Shackleton's Endurance, and going as far as is possible across the planet. The Microbiome Mission is a saga with many chapters, and the exhibition has focused on one episode in Tara Ocean history: the expedition on the Weddell Sea, east of the Antarctic Peninsula. In the face of roaring winds, the crew sailed around giant icebergs, studying the melting of the ice cap and the impact on the ocean which is one of the world's largest carbon sinks. Almost 30% of human CO2 emissions are captured by the oceans, and 40% of that is in the Southern Ocean. As ice melts at an ever faster and dangerous rate, as temperatures increase in Antarctica, reaching a record high in March 2022, it is essential to gain an understanding of such effects requiring humans to change and adapt. Oceanographic expeditions are usually conducted on board huge icebreakers or other large vessels, but the Tara Ocean Foundation initiated its small-scale model in 2003 and has continued to use it, thus providing convincing evidence that scientific studies can be carried out on board less costly sailing boats, offering greater flexibility for logistics and technical facilities and causing less damage to the environment. The Tara Ocean program, conducted in partnership with UNESCO, the European Union and leading international research institutes, has brought change to the way basic research is conducted, and continues to sail the world as did the great explorers of the past.
Vincent Jolly, Feature Reporter, Le Figaro Magazine

Lucas Barioulet/Le Monde
Winner of the 2022 Ville de Perpignan Rémi Ochlik Visa d'or Award
Ukraine: war as a daily experience
5.30am, Moscow, February 24, 2022. Vladimir Putin was seated at his desk and announced the start of a special military operation in Ukraine. The first strikes hit the country, and President Volodymyr Zelensky called on his people to take up arms. The life of millions of Ukrainians changed in a matter of moments.
In a hospital in Kyiv, a mother is at her son's bedside; she has been there for three months; he was wounded in shellfire and his leg was amputated. In what remains of Borodyanka, an elderly woman is asking for directions; she is lost in her own home town. In Lviv, the curator of a museum is contemplating the empty walls. And a mother weeps for her son, her second to die in combat.
Here it is not just land that is lost; it is an entire country, its identity, heritage, and economy. Some, people have had no other choice than to flee; others have chosen to remain. Life is now in underground shelters, in trains and tunnels, to the sound of sirens as death comes from the sky, and the trauma of war permeates every thought. ''I saw a video showing Russian soldiers engulfed in flames, and I laughed. For a moment there I didn't know who I was; everything had changed. I would never have thought I could behave like that.'' Alina, who lives in Kyiv, was telling her story. The pictures here were done on assignment between March and May for the daily newspaper Le Monde. They are my endeavor to show the everyday experience of war, to show the impact it has on the people, presenting a documentary record of their life which, while torn apart, still continues. We realize that war is more than just weapons and destruction, that it has an impact on the lives of millions, some of them trapped in their homes, their cities, their country. At a time when news reporting has been exploited, distorted and instrumentalized, it is essential to show the real experience of war.
In the field are people doing their jobs: the fixers, doctors, volunteers and soldiers, and when we leave they remain, still working there. The experience is on both the outside and the inside, revealing what human beings can do, for better or for worse, what can be seen and experienced, and what the limits are. There is waiting, even boredom, there is fear, doubt, a sense of absurdity; there is life and death. These pictures can only convey a split second of everyday life out there where war is present, all the time, relentlessly so.
Lucas Barioulet

Valerio Bispuri

Femmes, hommes et enfants vivent tous ensemble. Centre d’accueil psychiatrique d’Avrankou, Bénin, 2021. © Valerio Bispuri

Valerio Bispuri
Nelle stanze della mente
My work tells the tale of mental illness today. This is the fourth chapter on freedom lost (after Encerrados, Paco and Prigionieri), continuing my extensive, in-depth study exploring the world of people hidden far from the public gaze.
Venturing into the realm of mental distress is a complex, delicate and demanding experience, and the challenge of presenting it through photography is even more complex, delicate and demanding. Who are these ''mad'' men and women? What do they feel? In a bid to find answers to these questions, I had to become part of their universe. Their movements and expressions are lost in an inner world, often totally cut off from the surrounding environment which they may see as hostile or even terrifying, a world that can lead to self-destruction.
The starting point I chose was Africa, there where mental illness has only recently been given formal recognition. This makes it difficult to work out how many people are mentally ill, and to find where they live. Often they wander the streets of huge cities, or they can be hidden away in remote villages. Mental disorders are often seen as an evil caused by non-human, supernatural and sometimes threatening elements. This is the case in north-western Africa, in countries such as Benin, Togo and Côte d'Ivoire where voodoo witchdoctors consider the mentally ill to be demons and tie them to trees in the villages. Fortunately there are some wonderful people such as Grégoire Ahongbonon, a missionary who for the past twenty years has been working to have the mentally ill treated with dignity in special centers which he has set up.
The first countries I visited were Zambia and Kenya, in 2018, going to mental hospitals where I saw the harsh reality of mental disorders, drug addiction and patients simply abandoned in the streets, both adults and children. In Kenya, I went to the slums of Kibera and Mathare in Nairobi. In Zambia, I went to the one and only mental hospital in Lusaka, the capital city. I saw patients locked in tiny cells, spending hours without moving, foaming at the mouth, or others left to their own devices, walking up and down the streets and trying to shelter in the markets. Some were born with mental disorders, while others have destroyed their minds with drugs. Some have suffered emotional trauma and lost all sense of space and time.
During the pandemic, I kept on working, but in Italy, at emergency departments admitting patients to prison-security psychiatric facilities. I would spend days with the patients, going through all the stages, from acute crisis to afternoons lounging around playing cards. The time spent without taking photos meant I got to know them, to look at them, to try and understand them.
Most recently, in 2021, I went to Benin and Togo to continue the work on Africa that is being exhibited here.
I have always believed that both patience and courage are needed for photojournalists to do their job of telling stories that convey the real experience. I always wait before I take a photo. I try to fit in with the time of the person opposite me. Who is the person? What do they feel? Are they in a state of mental distress?
Valerio Bispuri

Mstyslav Chernov & Evgeniy Maloletka/ Associated Press
Mariupol, Ukraine
The dead were largely abandoned in the streets. There were no funerals. No memorials. No public gatherings to mourn those killed by Russia's relentless attacks on the port city that had become a symbol of Ukraine's ferocious resistance. It was too dangerous.
Instead, authorities collected the bodies in a truck as best they could and buried them in narrow trenches dug into the frozen earth of Mariupol. The mass grave trenches told the story of a city under siege. There was the 18-month-old hit by shrapnel; the 16-year-old killed by an explosion while playing football; the girl no older than six who was rushed to a hospital in blood-soaked pajamas patterned with unicorns. There was the woman wrapped in a bedsheet, her legs neatly bound at the ankles with a scrap of white fabric. Workers tossed all of them into the trenches, moving quickly to get back to shelter before the next round of shelling.
The world would have seen none of this, would have seen next to nothing at all from Mariupol as the siege set in, if it had not been for Mstyslav Chernov and Evgeniy Maloletka, the Associated Press team who raced to the city when the invasion began and stayed long after it had become one of the most dangerous places on earth.
For more than two weeks, they were the only international media in the city, and the only journalists able to transmit video and still photos to the outside world. They were there when the young girl in the unicorn pajamas was rushed to the hospital. They were there after the maternity hospital was attacked, and for countless airstrikes that pulverized the city. They were there when gunmen began stalking the city in search of those who could prove Russia's narrative to be false. Moscow hated their work. The Russian embassy in London tweeted images of AP photos with the word ''FAKE'' superimposed in red. At a U.N. Security Council meeting, a top Russian diplomat held up photos of the maternity hospital insisting they were fake.
Eventually, the team were urged to leave. A policeman explained why. ''If they catch you, they will get you on camera and they will make you say that everything you filmed is a lie. All your efforts and everything you have done in Mariupol will be in vain.''
It was terrible to leave. They knew that once they were gone, there would be almost no independent reporting from inside the city. But they felt they had no choice. So they left, slipping away on a day when thousands of civilians were fleeing the city, passing Russian roadblocks, one after another.
Their work and the people they met speak for the agony of Mariupol. Like the doctor who tried to save the life of the little girl in her pajamas. As he pumped oxygen into her, he looked straight into the AP camera. He stormed with expletive-laced fury: ''Show this to Putin: the eyes of this child and the doctors crying!''

Sabiha Çimen
Winner of the 2020 Canon Female Photojournalist Grant
Muslims who memorize the entire Quran earn the title of ''Hafız'' to be placed before their name. The belief is that whoever memorizes the holy book and follows its teachings will be rewarded by Allah and will be raised to high status in paradise. The practice dates back to days when illiteracy was widespread, and paper and vellum were prohibitively expensive. The Quran has a total of 604 pages and 6,236 verses, so the hafızes, as the guardians of the holy word, have helped keep the text alive. The tradition of committing the verses to memory, dating from the time of Mohammed, has been practiced and passed on through the generations for almost 1,500 years. In Turkey, thousands of Quran schools exist for this purpose, and many are for girls. The students, aged from eight to nineteen, usually take three or four years to complete the task which requires discipline, focus and devotion. After the girls graduate, most of them marry and have families, but they will always remember the words of the holy book. My aim is to show the everyday life of female pupils in Quran schools preparing to become hafızes, including moments outside their studies when having fun or even breaking the rules. The narrative showing the girls' individual experiences stands as a record. Through these photographs I want to give the girls the possibility of speaking for themselves, thus avoiding any misconceptions or misinterpretations. Outsiders will see a rare view of the female perspective, with nuanced perceptions. My goal is to cast light on the experience, offering insights into the hearts and minds of young girls just like me and my twin sister as we were 18 years ago. My sister and I attended a Quran school from the age of twelve. I can therefore reveal this unknown, unseen world. My project shows not only the journey of the students on their way to becoming hafızes, but also shows that they can, as young hafizes, entertain dreams and have the same spirit of adventure as other young women of their age. Hafiz is my first long-term project and began in 2017. Thanks to the support of the Canon Female Photojournalist Grant (2020), I have been able to develop the project with additional content and images.
Sabiha Çimen

Jean-Claude Coutausse
On the Campaign Trail
Does political photography serve a purpose? Not really, or perhaps not at all. It depends on the sincerity of the photographer. A picture can never tell the truth, but it should not mislead.
I no longer present politics as a comedy; I stopped doing that when I realized that the characters in front of me were from a tragedy. I am not talking about distinguished members of parliament or ministers, but rather about the few men and women who put their lives and reputations at stake in a bid to conquer the ultimate position of power which they willingly accept. These are the ones who never give up.
While working for the daily newspaper Le Monde I have been able to cover political leaders, following them at close range to capture moments of joy, exhaustion and doubt that all contribute to their portrayal. The editorial team of Le Monde newspaper where the written word reigns supreme has, for fifteen years now, accepted my fragile images.
The only way I can cover politics is for a newspaper. There is no such thing as universal photography; we need to know who the audience is. I know who the readers of Le Monde are, just as I knew the readers of Libération in the 1980s.
Working for an editorial board is also a way of getting away from the pressure of the communications staff, those people who have turned political reporting into captive photojournalism, cutting back on space to move and time to shoot pictures, bringing us in line with official views and replacing us with in-house photographers. Therefore I am also covering politics to stop communication taking over the real world.
Jean-Claude Coutausse

Alain Ernoult

Iguane des Petites Antilles (Iguana delicatissima), île de la Grenade, Caraïbes. Espèce vulnérable (UICN). © Alain Ernoult

Alain Ernoult
The 6th Extinction
The environmental apocalypse confronting the world today now has recognized causes: climate change, overexploitation of resources, pollution, the loss of natural habitats, invasive species and the impact of massive deforestation and intensive agriculture, all causing permanent damage. Since 1970, vertebrate populations have declined in size by 60%; since 1980, some 600 million birds have been lost across Europe.
The future of the planet also depends on the oceans responding to climate change. Plankton and phytoplankton absorb CO2, but as temperatures rise and the oceans continue to absorb more carbon, the sea water becomes more acidic. And there is pollution, including industrial waste with heavy metals, solvents and toxic sludge. As a result ''dead zones'' have formed, unable to support most marine life; worldwide there are now more than 400 marine dead zones. The impact can be seen at every level, from coral reefs to fish and crustaceans. According to the report by IPBES, the United Nations expert group on biodiversity, a large part of nature has already been lost and the decline continues. Of an estimated 8 million animals on earth (including 5.5 million insects) up to one million are endangered, and many could become extinct in a matter of years.
Certain species seen as more ''charismatic'' by humans (the lion, elephant, giraffe, leopard, cheetah, gorilla, panda, wolf and polar bear) can be ecosystem engineers; the elephant, for example, brings down trees and stops the savannah from turning into a forest. There are also umbrella species providing indirect protection to other animals in the same habitat. As large mammals are less diverse they are more vulnerable, and losses of these populations are only the tip of the iceberg of massive decline in biodiversity and the collapse of ecosystems.
My work on the ''6th Extinction'' is intended to raise awareness on the vulnerability of species around the world. The photographic concept is designed to convey the emotional impact, being as close as possible to the animal so as to capture the magic then conveyed in the pictures. By seeing other species, by being attentive and acutely aware of non-human species and our relationship with them, we have the values needed to observe our own world.
Alain Ernoult

Françoise Huguier/Agence VU'
For more than forty years the photographer Françoise Huguier has been working discreetly. She all but defies description, but when trying to observe her at work, it becomes apparent that she is only rarely seen taking a photo.
The woman is invisible, a distinguished reporter distinguished by the art of disappearing, ready to lurk in waiting, in ambush perhaps, whether backstage during a fashion parade, in shadows in Africa or Siberia, in old communal apartments in Saint Petersburg, or behind the scenes in a Korean company.
There is no rush to grab the camera. She listens as people talk about their lives, asking a minor question that can open the path to scenes inside the everyday routine. And so her investigation techniques have developed.
(Translated, abridged and adapted from a text by Gérard Lefort)

Acacia Johnson
Winner of the 2021 Canon Female Photojournalist Grant
The Pilots Connecting Remote Alaska
Across Alaska's rugged, diverse, and sparsely populated terrain, one sound can be heard almost anywhere: the distant drone of an aircraft. Only 20% of Alaska is accessible by road, and dozens of its remote settlements, predominantly Alaska Native communities, rely on aircraft for essential services including mail and groceries, medical care, and emergency transport. Since the first mail-delivery plane took off in 1924, small aircraft capable of landing on short runways or on natural features like tundra, glaciers, beaches, and water have played a critical role in Alaska's development. Today, nearly all of Alaska is highly dependent on aviation, both for essential transport between communities and to access remote wilderness areas. For many pilots, flying is simply a way of life, a way to connect with the landscape and each other. Throughout my life in Alaska, I have known flying to have an almost spiritual aspect. It commands attention to safety and a deep respect for the land, weather, and the lives of the people onboard. While flying in Alaska is now commonplace, it is frequently romanticized as a dangerous enterprise. The early era of bush flying between the 1920s and 1950s is famous for the first bold pilots who flew without weather forecasts, navigational technology or runways, and who subsequently took risks with the weather, survived crashes, and were often stranded alone in the wilderness. Although the safety of modern aviation has progressed considerably since that time, the idea that flying in Alaska is dangerous still lingers, to the detriment of professional and private pilots who devote their flying careers to operating safely. From the city of Anchorage, to the Arctic, to the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta, these are portraits of pilots who have been part of the Alaskan aviation community for decades and of those who are helping to shape its future. Their airplanes also represent a living portrait of Alaska's past: most aircraft chosen by these pilots (e.g. the Piper Super Cub and de Havilland Beaver) have been used, maintained, and passed on between generations of pilots since they were first produced in the mid-20th century. As one pilot told me, ''So much happened before the time of airplanes, and so much will happen after the time of airplanes.'' As the aviation industry undergoes rapid changes with skyrocketing insurance costs, advances in electric aircraft, and the recent approval of cargo drones, the future of flying in Alaska is uncertain. To Know the Earth from Above frames a pivotal moment in time, telling the stories of pilots who connect remote communities, rescue people in need, teach and inspire newer pilots, and transport people to the wildest parts of the state. Acacia Johnson

Selene Magnolia
''Zor'' Inside Europe's largest Roma ghetto
In Europe today with the challenge of unprecedented migratory flows and nationalist movements operating not only along borders but also inside countries, minorities have been forced into ghettos where they are cut off, needing to be healed and prevented from infecting the immediate environment.
In 2019, Europe had more than 11 million members of Roma and Sinti communities, a number equivalent to the entire population of Belgium. But Roma communities suffer systematic discrimination. In June 2021 in the Czech Republic, a Roma man died when police officers knelt on his neck. In November 2021 in Greece, a little Roma girl was crushed by a gate, and died after more than an hour while passers-by simply looked the other way.
According to the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights (FRA) in its second survey on minorities and discrimination (EU-MIDIS II), 80% of Roma people are at risk of poverty. The same survey reported that Roma people formed the largest minority in Europe, and suffered more discrimination than other groups.
In the city of Plovdiv in Bulgaria is Stolipinovo, the largest Roma ghetto in Europe. In the Communist era, it was an ordinary neighborhood, but became a ghetto after the fall of Communism and with the privatization of industry when Roma people lost their jobs because of discrimination. Today, the people of Stolipinovo (approximately 80,000 according to the European Forum for Democracy and Solidarity) are social outcasts rejected by the Bulgarians living in Plovdiv.
The residents in the ghetto of Stolipinovo have a Turkish background, speak Turkish and identify as Turks. Most are Muslim, but diverse religious identities, including paganism, coexist within the community. The social structure is based on the family unit, with clearly defined gender roles and hierarchies according to levels of respect from the community and wealth. Cultural traditions are core values; events are celebrated in the open, usually on the streets, and are open to the community.
Residents of the Roma ghetto of Stolipinovo are victims of discrimination, being seen as stereotypes not fitting in with the local Bulgarian lifestyle and culture. They live in squalid conditions, with social, housing and health problems at critically dangerous levels.
Stolipinovo, being surrounded by hostility and an atmosphere of increasing nationalist sentiment, stands as a portrait of systematic discrimination in Europe in the 21st century.
Selene Magnolia

Siegfried Modola
Inside Myanmar's Armed Uprising
In Myanmar hopes for peaceful, democratic progress have faded. The Southeast Asian nation is now mired in conflict and chaos. Decades of poor governance and repressive military rule created a climate of violence, human rights abuses and chronic poverty. Steps towards democratic change were dashed when the military seized power in a coup on February 1, 2021. Thousands of civilians have been killed as fierce resistance from newly formed militias and ethnic armed groups are now waging guerrilla warfare on multiple fronts across the country. In the town of Demoso in Kayah State, destroyed buildings and empty streets testify to the intensity of the clashes. Most of the area is under the control of the armed wing of the government in exile and the Karenni Army that has been fighting the armed forces of Myanmar, the Tatmadaw, for over 70 years.
Maw Soe Myar* is no ordinary child. She is only one year old but her world has been turned upside down by the cruelty of a regime that plunged her country into violence and uncertainty, forcing thousands of families like hers to flee. Gone are the familiar voices of neighbors echoing through the village; gone are the bright colors of the floormats in her home, and the whispers of her parents rocking her to sleep at night. What remains is the silent, somber look of her mother, Maw Pray Myar*, as she carries her across rocky valleys, through teak forests and tall, sharp, elephant grass that scratches her skin. Every step is a calculated move for fear she might trip and hurt her baby girl. They cross the Salween River and venture into a thick bamboo jungle, towards the border with Thailand, to safety. Here hundreds of displaced families have found refuge from the regime's brutal crackdown.
In another IDP camp not far from Demoso, a woman voices her worries while keeping an eye on her three children playing beneath a clear blue sky. ''We always live in fear of airstrikes by the military. We know it is easy for them to attack civilians. That is what they do.''
In an attack by the Tatmadaw in Hpruso Township (Kayah State) on December 24, 2021, at least 35 people, including four children and two humanitarian workers, were burned alive. On January 17, 2022, it was reported that an airstrike on an IDP camp had killed two young sisters in their sleep and an older man nearby, and left hundreds injured.
Despite all odds, over the past year a growing sense of comradeship has spread throughout the population, with what seems like millions in both cities and rural areas rallying to the cause, putting their normal lives on hold to help in one way or another in the struggle for a future free from military rule.
In a hospital at a secret location near Loikaw, the capital of Kayah State, thirty medical students who followed the Civil Disobedience Movement are now de facto doctors, treating patients with the limited medical supplies available. A 22-year-old medical student from Yangon who joined the uprising described the situation. ''We lack medicines to treat the injured. We have to refer many to other hospitals, far away, through government-controlled areas.'' Pausing by the bed of an eight-year-old boy suffering from severe burns to his legs she explains, ''We do our best with what we have.''
Siegfried Modola

All photos taken in Kayah State. [*All names have been changed.]

Andrew Quilty

Les filles portent des robes neuves pour la fête de Norouz, le nouvel an du calendrier persan. Le père et le fils réparent la moto. Kaboul, mars 2018. © Andrew Quilty / Agence VU’

Andrew Quilty/Agence Vu'
A Forever War Ends
It was a harsh winter starting in 2013 that Afghans faced. In the city of Herat on Christmas Day, people burned trash by the side of the highway to keep warm after fleeing fighting and, ironically, drought in outlying rural districts. But there was hope, wary though it may have been. In 2014, for the first time since the fall of the Taliban in 2001, the presidential election, previously organized by international players, was to be organized by Afghans.
At dawn on election day, the sound of exploding rockets echoed through Kabul. The Taliban had promised bloodshed. The skies were gray, but voters waited in line in the rain, patiently coping with the inevitable logistical hitches and security threats. A total of 6.5 million votes were cast and the day was heralded as a success.
The excitement, however, was short-lived, and pessimism soon shrouded the country. When the run-off vote between the two leading candidates resulted in accusations of fraud, an audit was called. Confidence in the Afghan republic plummeted, as did the national currency and foreign investment, while unemployment soared. At the end of the year, the international military mission handed responsibility for security over to Afghan national security forces.
The Taliban had been biding their time until the better equipped, better trained and motivated foreign forces departed, then quickly went on the offensive. They overran their first major city in September 2015 when they captured Kunduz in the north. During the operation to recapture the city, US airstrikes destroyed a trauma hospital run by Doctors Without Borders, killing 42 patients and staff in one of the most horrific incidents of the entire war.
As the momentum of the Taliban on the battlefield surged, American diplomats revived efforts for peace talks with the Taliban. In February 2020, after 18 months of negotiations under President Trump, the deal to bring peace to Afghanistan was signed by representatives of the US and the Taliban, in effect signing America's defeat with the provision for the Afghan government and the Taliban to engage in peace talks of their own, and for international forces to withdraw entirely the following year. But the United States, under both presidents Trump and Biden, was more intent on withdrawal than on sustaining stability in Afghanistan.
In early 2021, after President Biden confirmed that the US would abide by the withdrawal agreement, the Taliban stepped up offensives across the country, overrunning rural districts at great speed as government forces crumbled, many simply laying down their weapons and surrendering. By early August, Afghanistan's 34 provincial capitals were all virtually surrounded. With the prospect of a no-holds-barred battle for Kabul, the remaining foreign forces and diplomats hastened their evacuation efforts. In the end, the Taliban regained power much faster than even they had predicted. It took just ten days for all but a handful of provincial capitals to be overrun by the Taliban. By dawn on August 15, their fighters had reached the gates of Kabul.
For two weeks, victorious Taliban fighters guarded Kabul International Airport where foreign forces under the command of the US Army were airlifting as many as 10,000 people a day: foreign diplomats, aid workers and journalists, but mainly Afghans, desperate to flee. Scores were killed, crushed in the crowd or shot by Taliban fighters trying to control access to the airport as tens of thousands attempted to make their way inside. An ISIS suicide bomber attacked, killing 180, including thirteen US troops. Days later, in an apparent bid to prevent a follow-up attack, a family home was struck by a Hellfire missile fired by an American drone. The ten victims, including eight children, were buried in a cemetery by the airport as the last American planes climbed into the sky leaving Afghanistan for good.
Andrew Quilt

Eugene Richards
An Outsider
Based on some fifty years of photography, this exhibition could be structured chronologically, from my very first photographic stories in the American South in 1969 till I returned to the Arkansas Delta in 2019. On the other hand, it could be structured thematically: American poverty, the plight of the mentally disabled, the human cost of drugs, of war, a woman's cancer. Either approach would make it seem that from the outset I had a part in planning this exhibition. Not true. I began searching out these photographs long months ago at my son Sam's suggestion. He witnessed my feeling especially down, frozen in place. The deadly spread of Covid was on my mind, as were Afghanistan and Iraq and the realization that other wars were looming. I was also struggling to come to terms with the societal divisions and in turn journalistic changes in America. There were increasing numbers of promoters of identity politics suggesting that some of us are more worthy of support doing stories than others. That the age, race, class, gender of journalists are factors to be considered before sending us out into the world. Additionally it appeared to me that, with the possible exception of photos of war, the pictures being published in books and news magazines were less and less of the moment, more often set up, constructed, in collaboration with the subjects. ''Collaborative'' being a kind of buzzword of our time.
As happened, it was my son who directed me toward an alternate way of publishing and speaking out. ''There's pretty much no support right now for what you feel you should be doing,'' Sam observed, ''so put your pictures on Instagram.'' ''Instagram,'' I said incredulously. Then as if on auto-pilot I began to flip through the warped, cracked binders of contact sheets that take up seven or eight shelves in a back room of our house. Leafing through the pages, I went looking for pictures I hadn't shown or published before, sifting through hundreds of moments in the lives of others, awash in memories.
Then, much to my surprise, Jean-Francois* phoned. This is a man who doesn't care who you are, what age you are, where you are from, what your gender identification is, as long as you are attempting to tell the truth. His interest in my pictures, along with Sam's and my wife Janine's tender treatment of me, got me back to work.
Eugene Richards

*Jean-François Leroy, Director-General, Visa pour l'Image

Arnaud Robert & Paolo Woods
Happy Pills
For a long time the question of happiness was considered to be a matter for religion, philosophy or even politics. But today the pharmaceutical industry is using science, marketing and communication to provide a standardized response so that human aspirations can be fulfilled. The idea of a magic pill conjures up many familiar images, e.g. Alice in Wonderland or The Matrix, and is seen as an almost magical response to help cope with moments of weakness, melancholy or other pressures on human existence. The promise of a chemical compound that is able to cure and transform provides the perfect metaphor for a Promethean society focusing on efficiency, power, youth and performance, a society where the appearance of happiness is almost as good as happiness itself, where appearance prevails over genuine feeling. For five years, journalist Arnaud Robert and photographer Paolo Woods traveled the world seeking out Happy Pills, drugs able to ease the pain of human suffering, to achieve excitement, work, power, and action, with formulae capable of retrieving patients from the abyss of depression, with painkillers ingested by the working poor who are simply trying to feed their families.
Everywhere around the world, whether in Niger, the United States, Switzerland, India, Israel or the Amazon, the Big Pharma world has expanded and is offering overnight solutions where once there were eternal problems.
The exhibition features a series of photos plus ventures into social media, for an original presentation confronting us with our own relationship to medical drugs.
Happy Pills is also a book published by Delpire & Co. and a documentary film produced by Intermezzo/ARTE/RTS.

Exhibition produced by the Ferme des Tilleuls, Switzerland.

Alexis Rosenfeld in partnership with UNESCO
1 Ocean
1 Ocean, A Decade of Exploration in the 21st Century is a project conducted by the photographer Alexis Rosenfeld in partnership with UNESCO. As part of the United Nations Decade of Ocean Sciences for Sustainable Development (2021-2030), we are telling the story of the Ocean, of its riches, of threats affecting it, and solutions we can provide. 1 Ocean is a journey of discovery of the Ocean, over a full decade seeing secrets at great depths and the wonders of marine life.
The feature report has been developed along three key lines.
For centuries, basic curiosity has been the central driving force urging human beings to explore, to slake their thirst for knowledge, climbing ever higher, crossing deserts and diving to extreme depths in the Ocean. Such human ventures in the past had one sole purpose and that was to provide knowledge to the human race, knowledge of worlds hitherto unknown, never even imagined, but they also revealed fragile aspects of the environment. Explorers who traveled the world related their experiences and, in many ways, shaped the legend of the ''blue continent'' as seen on the surface, but there was another world far below, a world all but beyond the scope of human knowledge, almost impossible to reach. Now, in the early 21 st century, the ''1 Ocean'' crew has embarked on voyages of discovery of unexplored realms, uncovering many mysteries of the Ocean.
The reason for this exploration is to generate new knowledge. Explorers of the past who traveled the seas would return with objects that were added to the great collections of Europe: stones, botanical specimens, art works and artefacts were brought back, thus providing future generations with valuable samples from the past. Today, following the example of our predecessors, 1 Ocean, A Decade of Exploration in the 21 st Century will produce new content. Alexis Rosenfeld is providing visual coverage of the journeys, through both still photography and documentary films.
This documentary record is designed so that everyone can see the story of the Ocean and its riches. The idea of sharing knowledge, passing it on from generation to generation is a key part of the project which is founded on the principle that knowledge is the first step on the path to protection. Given the environmental threats to the Ocean today, we are duty bound to report on this. Our ambition is to raise awareness in minds today and, above all, to build the minds of the future.
Alexis Rosenfeld

Tamara Saade
Tiers of Trauma
Some might think the catastrophe that happened in Beirut on August 4, 2020, and the crisis that hit Lebanon happened from one day to the next, but there had been more than three decades of negligence and corruption flowing through the veins of the nation, bringing the country to its knees. On August 4, 2020, ammonium nitrate stored in unsafe conditions in the port of Beirut, caught fire and exploded, killing more than 200, injuring 6,000, and leaving 300,000 homeless.
The disaster struck in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic and at the beginning of what would become one of the worst economic crises in the world, just a few months into what the Lebanese call ''the revolution.''
The previous year, on October 17, 2019, tens of thousands of Lebanese had taken to the streets in protest against deteriorating living conditions. It was the first time in years that the country had witnessed such a strong sense of unity, but the dream was to be short-lived.
The exhibition documents the past two years in Lebanon, focusing on protests across the country, and the aftermath of the explosion, as well as some rare lulls in between. Not a single soul in Lebanon has been left untouched by the events of the past two years. Financially, those who had savings lost their money. Physically, there was the explosion that left more than 300 disabled, the everyday stress facing everyone in Lebanon, plus the Covid-19 pandemic, and many have simply been unable to cope. The country's morale too has been hard hit as it appears to be in a state of depression, suffering constant anxiety, and even ''schizophrenia'' as citizens attempt to lead a normal everyday life in such an absurd setting.
People have been trying to get things changed; some have focused on the prospect of the elections in May 2022, while others have taken to the streets to express their anger. But change takes time, and Lebanon seems to be running out of time. A huge proportion of the younger generation has now left the country, and understandably so as they choose to leave in the hope of finding a ''normal'' life somewhere else, i.e. a life where buildings have not been gutted by an explosion, where streets have electricity, and children can dream of the future.
To date in Lebanon, there has been no change. Since 2019, there have many changes of government, but with no impact. In fact, things seem to have gone from bad to worse.
Lebanon is no longer a country at war. It has been and remains to this day a country in conflict, surrounded by war, and at the mercy of foreign players.
Until change comes, until justice is done, and until the families of victims of government negligence over the past few years are given the response they need, these pictures will stand as evidence of the injustice prevailing in the country.
Tamara Saade

Exhibition supported by the French Ministry of Culture and MICOL (France's interministerial coordination mission for Lebanon)

George Steinmetz
Global Fisheries Harvesting Marine Wildlife
The past two decades have seen a rapid expansion of fishing on an industrial scale with international fleets of mega-trawlers, super- seiners, and factory motherships competing with increasing numbers of native fishing boats to strip the oceans of marine life. This is a classic example of a tragedy of the commons where individuals voraciously deplete a shared resource.
The severity of the global problem was recently quantified in a ground-breaking ten-year study by Daniel Pauly (University of British Columbia) which showed that the number of fish being caught worldwide is 50% higher than figures reported by the UN Food & Agriculture Organization, the reason being that the source data is self-reported by each country. Pauly's team painstakingly reconstructed historic data to show that the global fish catch peaked in 1997 at 130 million tons; since then it has declined by 1.2 million tons a year even though there has been a huge increase in the number and size of fishing boats, and new fish-finding technologies. There are clear signs that wild fish stocks are plummeting as humans accelerate the harvesting of the biosphere. The photographs in the exhibit were taken over the past six years in nine countries. They document some of the largest and most sophisticated new ships harvesting marine wildlife, as well as poor fisherfolk from some of the world's least developed nations who are scouring coastal waters in a desperate struggle to feed their families. But as I traveled the seven seas, I did not see only doom and gloom. I also discovered well-managed fisheries that harvest specific species sustainably, with scientific monitoring of fish populations to guarantee long-term abundance. Here was a reminder that there are solutions, but only if we do a better job of understanding the sources and impacts of our food decisions so that we can make more informed choices. So, the next time you buy marine life, try to understand how it got to your local marketplace and remember that even farmed seafood, like shrimp and salmon, depend on wild fisheries for their food.
George Steinmetz

The project was partially funded by a grant from the National Geographic Society.

Brent Stirton

Jonas Manguba, un Bayaka de la république du Congo, a commencé à chasser avec son père dès son plus jeune âge. Dans le cadre d’une initiative de la Wildlife Conservation Society et du Programme de gestion durable de la faune sauvage, les tribus comme celle de Jonas peuvent participer jusqu’à deux fois par mois à des chasses légales et contrôlées en bordure du parc national de Nouabalé-Ndoki. © Brent Stirton / Getty Images pour National Geographic

Brent Stirton/ Getty Images for National Geographic
Bushmeat and Epidemics
Ebola, Covid-19, SARS, and monkeypox: zoonotic diseases occur when pathogens pass from wild animals to humans, and can develop into epidemics, or a pandemic.
Millions of people around the world consume bushmeat which is an important source of food for many rural communities. It is often perceived to be healthier and strong cultural beliefs reinforce the practice. Bushmeat draws high prices and is sold by hunters, but most is not consumed where the animals are hunted. After the first sale, the meat moves to nearby towns where it triples in value, and there is also international trade on a daily basis, mostly to African expatriate communities in Europe, plus a huge market in Asia.
The trafficking of bushmeat to cities to meet non-essential demand poses a major threat to many animal species. As urban populations grow, consumer demand for wild meat increases, exerting ever greater pressure on wildlife. One of the largest zones for the trade is the Congo Basin. Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Brazzaville in the Republic of Congo are two capital cities separated only by the Congo River. Combined, they form the third largest urban agglomeration in Africa, with a total population of 15 million, and by 2050, Kinshasa is forecast to be the fourth-largest city in the world. According to a study by the Wildlife Conservation Society, it is estimated that over 33 thousand metric tons of bush meat is traded in Kinshasa every year, making it the hub of this worldwide trade. While alternative animal protein like beef and chicken is available in these cities, bushmeat has social and cultural significance, and is therefore consumed as a luxury.
As bush meat introduces novel pathogens to densely populated cities, there is a significant risk of zoonotic disease, as seen with the case of fruit bats featured in this report. Epidemiologists observing camps of fruit bats have found that up to one-third are positive for Ebola and other viral hemorrhagic fevers.
The situation is simply not sustainable, and the land is being stripped of wildlife. Alternatives must be found, e.g. sustainable fishing, the farming of weevil larvae, and the new and revolutionary science of cell-based laboratory-grown meat, which may be approved for production in the United States and China.
Brent Stirton

Large portions of this photo essay were shot in cooperation with the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (Sustainable Wildlife Management Program).

Goran Tomasevic
Between War and Peace
Today, when words are too often used to conceal the truth, photography still stands on the side of reality. A photo speaks the truth. For nearly two centuries, photography has been the art that records history forever and keeps us from forgetting it even if we do not always learn the lessons we should. In this modern world of conflict, confrontation and concern for the future of our planet, photography is more important than ever. That is what has helped drive me for the past thirty years when the camera has been my life. During that time I have helped show the world what is happening, from the wars in the Balkans to the War on Terror, to the Arab Spring and the way that uprising was crushed in Syria. From Afghanistan to Africa and from Iraq to Latin America, I have had the chance, and the duty, to encounter the best and the worst of humanity, and to record it for all time. Sometimes it has been dangerous, sometimes it has been beautiful. It has always been interesting. The pictures here are only a handful of the tens of thousands that I have taken. My goal has always been to get close enough to the action to do justice to the subjects and to bear witness for those who see the world through my lens.
Goran Tomasevic
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