ยฉ Ed Kashi
Another Turn of the Carousel
Sometimes I wonder how normal it is to hurt yourself this much just to stay independent.
Because getting somewhere is always more complicated than how we tell it. Thereโs a stretch of the road that never appears in photos: the tired days, the heavy choices, the things you let go because you need to stay focused. And then thereโs that point you see ahead, possible but still too far to actually reach with your hand.
Work alone is almost never enough. You can grind away hours, sacrifice weekends, push yourself further than you promised, and still not move anything. It takes something more subtle. The ability not to lose sight of why you do it. The vision. The courage to choose a direction and stay inside it even when everything around you shifts.
And then there are people. Being independent doesnโt mean being alone. You look around and find those who help you without making noise. Those you meet by chance who lift you by a single centimetre, and one centimetre at a time becomes metres. Those you ask for help even when it costs you. You never arrive alone, even when you tell yourself youโre independent and you can make it. The truth is that independence is built exactly like this: through small supports, open hands, quiet exchanges.
Is it worth sacrificing so much, reinventing yourself every quarter, staying focused when thinking about something else would be easier? And every time, the answer is the same.
Yes. Because when a printed book lands in someoneโs hands and I see it move themโฆ that whole exhausting, absurd journey becomes the only possible road. And I would start again from the beginning, changing almost nothing, taking โanother turn of the carousel,โ as the great Tiziano Terzani teaches us.
Marco Savarese
Editor-in-Chief
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marco Savarese
Marco Savarese is Editor-in-Chief at Eyeshot, the independent publisher he founded in Italy in 2018. He spends most of his year reading portfolios, judging the Open Call, and editing the magazine catalogue. The reading desk is open, and he takes one-to-one Professional Reviews from photographers working seriously on long-term projects.
Who Finishes Your Photograph
NOTE #210. A photo isn’t finished until it survives to where people see it. Paul Strand chose hand photogravure for Photographs of Mexico so the printed copy kept the tonal weight of his prints. Protect the tone to the end, or the worst medium decides for you.
What the Dark Does
NOTE #209. A face lost in shadow reads as underexposed, a defect to fix. Gordon Willis kept Brando’s eyes in the dark in The Godfather and held it against the studio. Before you rescue a shadow, ask what it does; if you can say it, you decided it.
The Place After
NOTE #208. Of a huge event, often only an ordinary place is left. In On This Site (1996) Joel Sternfeld photographed fifty banal American places where violence happened, each with a line of text. Photograph the aftermath, and let the line do the work.
The Photo Made Together
NOTE #206. Street photography teaches you to steal people; there’s another way. In Malick Sidibรฉ’s Bamako studio the youth chose how to be seen. Before you take someone, ask how they’d want to look, and make the photo together.
Write Your Own Rules
NOTE #205. The thing that improves you most isn’t a new camera, it’s a short list of your own faults. Tony Ray-Jones kept a notebook of orders to himself and it shaped Martin Parr. Write your three rules and keep them in your pocket.
Watch the Master Work
NOTE #204. You don’t learn from a master’s finished prints, you learn from watching them work. In 1962 Joel Meyerowitz watched Robert Frank shoot, quit his job that day, and picked up a camera. Watch the body, not the result.
The Work Before the Name
NOTE #203. The worth of a photo and the worth of the byline are two different things. Koudelka shot the 1968 Prague invasion anonymously as ‘P.P.’ and revealed it sixteen years later. Photograph what must be photographed even when no one will know it was you.
The Subject You Run From
NOTE #202. The strongest subject you have is the one you’d rather not photograph. Ishiuchi Miyako went back to Yokosuka, the occupied base town she was taught to fear, and made it her life’s work. Point the camera where it’s uncomfortable.