Harry Belafonte was a hero of mine. He meant everything to me. I met him around the release of 12 Years a Slave, and he became a mentor. I received a best director award at the New York Film Critics Circle awards and Harry gave an amazing speech: he talked about seeing Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan at the cinema as a child and how the depiction of people of African descent made him feel being ashamed to be Black.
Look what he did – he was the first person to make an album that sold more than 1m records. He was Martin Luther King’s closest confidant and he supported his family. He was the main organiser to get Hollywood people involved in the civil rights movement, bringing people like Sidney Poitier. He was close to Bobby Kennedy, Eleanor Roosevelt. And he was an artist, and he was an actor; he studied with Brando, Brando was one of his best friends. He really was a renaissance man if there ever was one, and extraordinarily good looking. He had everything, but his service was always to his people. He told me that the civil rights days were scary – what he sacrificed and what he did for the good of people was incredible.
Harry didn’t compromise. When he wasn’t getting the roles that he thought that he deserved, he just went and did his music. And I think that vision came from his mentor Paul Robeson, who said: “Why don’t you sing your song?”
Harry understood that he was a Black man of the diaspora – his background was in Jamaica, his upbringing was in America, and he travelled the world as a Black man in the entertainment industry. He was an American but an internationalist – a man of the world. He was in Africa, he was in Cuba, he was in eastern Europe. Harry’s reach was global – he was world famous. His drive was incredible. He didn’t stop until he dropped.
‘I did all that I could’: A look back at the life and career of Harry Belafonte – video
We had plans to make a film about Robeson and we worked on it for a little while, but some things don’t always come together. The last time I heard from Harry was when I got a text from him and his wife Pam saying that they’d just watched Small Axe: “Brilliant, bravo, we send our love and thoughts through these crazy times, Pam and Harry.”
A child of the West Indies growing up in America and reaching the heights of international stardom. That was Harry. I loved him very, very much.
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( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )
I spent my early adulthood in South Africa during the apartheid era. In 1974, the government passed a law stipulating that all lessons for black children had to be in Afrikaans, which most could not speak, and which was considered the language of the oppressor. By 1976, Black schoolchildren took to the streets of Soweto to protest and were met with police violence, with over 176 deaths. It was then that the tide turned, the protest movement grew and people worldwide became more aware of the injustices of apartheid.
Sensing the country was on the cusp of change, I went out to try to photograph what was happening around me. I was in my early 20s and working for a company that printed magazines, so I’d take my own pictures at weekends. I’d had no photographic training and because I could hardly afford film, I bought bulk reels of black and white, which were cheaper. I had to limit the number of exposures I could make due to the cost, and used cat litter trays for developing the silver gelatin prints.
I had a manual Canon FTb camera and a standard 50mm lens, which approximates the field of view of the eye. I would visit and photograph squatter towns where Black people were living as family units in defiance of the labour laws, and I also went to District Six, a mixed-race community where homes were demolished and the inhabitants evicted to make way for white housing. I’d knock on doors and ask if I could photograph people in their homes.
When I took pictures of people on the streets, they were often absorbed in their own worlds. I spotted the couple in this photograph in Green Point, Cape Town, near where I lived. The man was tenderly caring for his sick partner, and a smartly dressed woman walked past them, totally oblivious to their existence. The man looked up at her and the white of his eye caught the light as I took the picture. There are two other photographs I took showing a pair of white kids walking past the same couple without appearing to notice them, and then on their return journey, eating ice creams they’d just bought.
I felt my pictures needed to be seen and a local publisher was interested in producing a book, which reached the dummy stage before he decided the project was going to be too risky. But a photograph I sent to the British Journal of Photography made their front page in 1977, so that same month I packed a box of prints into a suitcase and flew to Heathrow. I only had a couple of dozen or so prints, and lent these to the International Defence and Aid Fund, which campaigned to defend people in race trials and raise awareness of apartheid internationally. My pictures were exhibited and published widely and, as a consequence, I was unable to return to South Africa until apartheid was abolished over 13 years later.
Under apartheid, anti-racist behaviour was spurned by the government, interracial sex was illegal and the best jobs, housing and education were strictly reserved for whites. One of the other photographs I brought to the UK is a portrait of a man I worked with at the printing company. He was an experienced technician, but I remember once asking him to prepare two exposures on a contact sheet. He had to remind me he was only allowed to make one exposure, as two were classed as “skilled” work, which was reserved for white technicians.
Apartheid, meaning “apartness”, was a deliberate process of engendering indifference between the races, which I think this photograph demonstrates. When you walk into my new exhibition at Leicester Art Gallery, it’s the first picture that strikes you, because it has been printed a couple of metres tall. There’s a resonance when people realise that such social and economic differences are still present 45 years later. The difference with this image is that the couple were denied equal opportunities by law.
After the end of apartheid and the election of Nelson Mandela, I trawled through the old negatives, discovering images I’d forgotten I had. I became a wildlife photographer in midlife and now it feels like the photographs I took at 23 belong to another lifetime. They act as a poignant reminder of why history must never be buried or forgotten and how we need to be constantly reminded of such injustices to help prevent them from happening again.
Steve Bloom’s CV
Photographer Steve Bloom
Born: Johannesburg, 1953 Trained: Self-taught Influences: “Photojournalist W Eugene Smith, with his powerful features in Life magazine.” High point: “Seeing my first photography book roll off the press. It’s the knowledge that the images will be seen. I think reaching an audience is a joy for any photographer.” Low point: “The phone call from a processing lab in the analogue film days to say that there had been a chemical ‘incident’ and the films I had brought back from a shoot in Kenya had been destroyed.” Top tip: “In this age of billions of pictures being made each day, it’s tempting to take multiple pictures of the same subject without actually concentrating too much on composition, lighting and timing. Photograph as if you only get one chance at it, and that discipline will sharpen your creative mind.”
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( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )
Sydney: Former Australia skipper Steve Smith says his team is better off training on its own rather than playing tour games on “irrelevant” Indian pitches ahead of the four-Test Border-Gavaskar series.
Australia has decided not to play a single tour game in India during the month-long Test series, primarily due to the hosts serving up green tops for practice matches and spinning tracks for the actual games.
Smith, who won the country’s best men’s player award for the fourth time in his career on Monday, said nets sessions would benefit his side more than the tour games.
The 18-member squad, led by Pat Cummins, had a pre-series camp on spin-friendly tracks in Sydney and will have a week-long stint in Bengaluru before the first Test in Nagpur on February 9.
“We normally have two tour games over in England. This time we don’t have a tour game in India,” Smith was quoted as saying by news.com.au on Monday ahead of the team’s departure to India.
“The last time we went (to India) I’m pretty sure we got served up a green top (to practice on) and it was sort of irrelevant. Hopefully, we get really good training facilities where the ball is likely to do what it’s likely to do out in the middle, and we can get our practice in,” said Smith, who beat Travis Head and David Warner to win the Allan Border medal on Monday.
Australia has been criticized for not including tour games, which are an integral part of a long series, in their itinerary. But Smith said rigorous nets sessions will help spinners train better.
“We’re better off having our own nets and getting spinners in and bowling as much as they can.”
Smith, whose side had lost the series 1-2 when it toured India in 2017, indicated a lot of thinking had into the decision.
“We’ll wait and see when we hit the ground. I think we’ve made the right decision to not play a tour match. As I said, last time they dished up a green top for us (in a tour game) and we barely faced any spin, so it’s kind of irrelevant.”
The Australians had a training session in Sydney last week on pitches that had significant cracks to replicate Indian conditions.
“It’s (the Test series in India) certainly huge. I don’t know if it’s (winning in India) the final frontier. I’ve never won there, I’ve been there twice (for Tests), and it’s always difficult playing there. We’ve got some challenges in front of us, but the guys are ready for it,” added Smith.
