I had no idea about this in Portugal's history--and not that long ago--AND, too close for comfort here in the US. I believe, like you, that documenting this time is critical--to not be silenced or dismissed, and to have our words and our images free to be in the world. It is not a time to be silent or to ignore, even though this is the easier route (and the overwhelm is real!). 'Seeing' ourselves helps us reflect, and make sense of what is going on on a deeper level; and the layers are obviously far deeper than what we hear in the 30 second sound and image bytes. The work is just beginning.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Carol. It's encouraging to hear this piece showed you a chapter of history that resonates with our current reality in the US.
I'm constantly trying to figure out how to use my photography and storytelling skills effectively in this moment. With traditional photojournalism budgets vanishing, platforms like Substack offer me some hope by creating direct connections with audiences who value deeper exploration beyond quick sound bites.
What I've learned from studying photographers like Eduardo Gageiro is the importance of documenting not just dramatic confrontations but also the subtle erosions of normality. Those everyday images of life under authoritarian regimes become powerful historical evidence.
The overwhelm you mentioned is real, and finding ways to care for ourselves while remaining vigilant witnesses is part of the work too.
You're right that "seeing ourselves" helps us reflect at a deeper level. I'm grateful to know others recognize the importance of this kind of documentation. The work is just beginning, but it feels less solitary knowing amazing people like you are engaging with it.
I had no idea about this in Portugal's history--and not that long ago--AND, too close for comfort here in the US. I believe, like you, that documenting this time is critical--to not be silenced or dismissed, and to have our words and our images free to be in the world. It is not a time to be silent or to ignore, even though this is the easier route (and the overwhelm is real!). 'Seeing' ourselves helps us reflect, and make sense of what is going on on a deeper level; and the layers are obviously far deeper than what we hear in the 30 second sound and image bytes. The work is just beginning.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Carol. It's encouraging to hear this piece showed you a chapter of history that resonates with our current reality in the US.
I'm constantly trying to figure out how to use my photography and storytelling skills effectively in this moment. With traditional photojournalism budgets vanishing, platforms like Substack offer me some hope by creating direct connections with audiences who value deeper exploration beyond quick sound bites.
What I've learned from studying photographers like Eduardo Gageiro is the importance of documenting not just dramatic confrontations but also the subtle erosions of normality. Those everyday images of life under authoritarian regimes become powerful historical evidence.
The overwhelm you mentioned is real, and finding ways to care for ourselves while remaining vigilant witnesses is part of the work too.
You're right that "seeing ourselves" helps us reflect at a deeper level. I'm grateful to know others recognize the importance of this kind of documentation. The work is just beginning, but it feels less solitary knowing amazing people like you are engaging with it.