It is clear that the legend of a duffel bag full of D-Day still and motion-picture film “dropped overboard” is a fable. There is absolutely no evidence to substantiate it, and much to disprove it. […]
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It is clear that the legend of a duffel bag full of D-Day still and motion-picture film “dropped overboard” is a fable. There is absolutely no evidence to substantiate it, and much to disprove it. […] This “lost film” tale centers on Utah Beach. In brief, the D-Day film from that beach was supposedly entrusted to a courier who then accidentally dropped it into the ocean while climbing aboard a ship. This seems to be merely a miasma of self-reinforcing rumors with no factual basis. […] I would propose that what Langston Hughes achieved in The Sweet Flypaper of Life, though radically different in kind, constitutes an editorial accomplishment that bears comparison with what Robert Frank did with his own pictures in The Americans, published in 1958-59. To use a distinction from general systems theory, Hughes took a heap and made of it a whole. […] The evidence, then, suggests that while his connection to Robert Capa mattered deeply to Morris on both personally and professionally, for Capa the relationship on those levels proved more peripheral — at least until the brief year between his hiring of Morris for Magnum and his death in Vietnam. Not a two-way street, in short, though Morris takes pains to intimate otherwise. […] It is now clear that Grottkau consistently supported himself as a professional photographer and studio owner while concurrently leading both local and national socialist labor movements. This fact, long overlooked, is not insignificant to the history of both American photography and American political history. […] |
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