Aftermath or instead of introduction
Ziyah Gafic
Grazia Neri
Kodak Young Photographer Award 2002
I never saw the moment when the mortar shell exploded in front of the people in the market place or when sniper shot someone in front of my high school. I was always late for couple a seconds, minutes or I would pass by the market place just before the shell exploded and killed more then sixty people waiting to buy some groceries or I would be running in the dark street and broken glass was falling on me. But I’ve seen people cleaning the streets after shelling, I’ve seen what has left of a young man after a thirty kilos heavy shell exploded near him, I’ve also seen the face of woman survived the same, unhurt. I should have photographed all these scenes. At that time I was not a photographer.
Preview
But I remember the gunpowder smell and the sound of broken glass or sound of people saying, “Are you OK?” That question never questioned the same again, that sound never sounded the same and that smell never smelled the same again.
Now whenever I make photographs I feel like having a taste of gunpowder in my nose and the sounds of glass in my ears. A sound of shutter releasing recalls pictures from war-childhood.
