With the world becoming increasingly visual through the means of technology, photographs and visual images have the capacity to inform mass media on current affairs from around the world. . The visual makes one think about how to perceive and respond to content like this while questioning the value of this image and wondering why the scene was captured at this particular moment. In this critical analysis, particular attention will be paid to a photograph and a series of paintings by Fernando Botero as well as a brief description of the film “Nightcrawler” to triangulate this analysis. The essay will most likely describe the use of space and time in very concrete terms; an area, a context and a physical parameter. This is particularly prevalent in depictions of violence which will be the theme of this essay with discussions on these topics with the help of writers such as Judith Butler, Ariella Azoulay and some other inferences. As we decipher the ethics of the different mediums selected for analysis, it becomes increasingly clear that there is a hidden structure behind an image, particularly if it appeals to political viewpoints. There are regulations behind what can become public to the masses and it is this distinction between what is known but not shown that this essay will complete while identifying how works of art deal with time and space . For all three mediums that will be examined, visual photographic evidence is essential in determining the morals behind these works of art. The photograph bears the stamp of the event itself, and reconstructing that event requires more than simply identifying what is happening in the photograph. We need to stop looking at photography and instead start looking at it, analyzing it, appreciating the details and context behind it, which this essay will reveal in the works of each of these artists. The artists and scholars featured are doing exciting things that connect the image to political and social struggles, often in unexpected ways. Their work is interesting in its own right and for the deeper questions it often raises about fundamental concepts of photojournalism. What are evidence, access, coverage, reporting, testimony, and how are these practices represented in relation to space and time? Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why violent video games should not be banned”? Get an original essay Looking at the paintings of the artist Fernando Botero, he managed to depict the ordeal of existence in the prison of Abu Ghraib with the intention of criticizing the conflict. Botero was inspired by the paintings in this exhibition by reading official reports about the terror and torture taking place in Iraq. In some of his paintings, Iraqi prisoners are tied up in ropes with blood smeared on their bodies and tops. They are blindfolded, ironically suggesting that American soldiers fear being seen, while excreting or vomiting when subjected to physical beatings from the guards. Inspired by Picasso's Guernica, Botero found it necessary to exploit these problems within the US military and aggravate public backlash - he succeeded. In an interview with Botero, journalist Kenneth Baker says that when his work was first exhibited in the New York gallery, he received hate mail claiming the works were anti-American. Abu Ghraib 05, Fernando Botero, 2005, oil on canvas Without doubt, for an artist, going through the work of painting, drawing orsculpture evokes a closer relationship with his creations. There is usually a clearer interpretation on the part of the artist, without any restrictions from a higher authority, because the work belongs to them. Fernando Botero displays here the power he has as a solo artist to provoke reactions to inform, not only what is happening in the world, but what it means to work for a country that tortures a minority elsewhere. Botero's interpretation of space is determined by representations of war. The torturers are absent from most works in which the protagonists are the victims. Botero therefore takes full advantage of filling the space of these canvases with the entire bodies of the victims in the prison cells. The background is minimal and rather empty to suggest the distressing nature of isolation and isolation, with no means of interacting with the environment. Additionally, he transposes the space and time of a photograph into another type of space and time by taking the images he saw that outraged him, and creating these paintings accordingly. Framing is important when creating a specific scene. The spatial aspect of the frame informs the viewer of a specific space in which something takes place - this can be misleading or reveal more than they initially intend. (This is particularly appreciated by Judith Butler but her work will be discussed later.) Furthermore, by decontextualizing from a specific space, framing allows a transposition into a different space and time as the artist imagines it. Particular artists such as Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin highlight this notion of framing, but especially violence, in a way unexpected for the viewer. They worked as a photography duo, which is typically unusual but nonetheless interesting because the ideas presented are collaborative. In 2008, the duo traveled to Afghanistan as embedded photojournalists, not artists, at the height of the war, bearing witness to an endless montage of death and destruction – except for the fifth day, when no one is not dead. It was a deep break in the chaos, which artists compare to the calm moment of a storm. They chose to document this cathartic break from a non-event, by unrolling a six meter roll of film and exposing it to the sun for 20 seconds on location. Notice how the timing is very specific here. It was then packed up and shipped from one military base to another, transported by helicopters, jeeps and tanks, with information on its contents completely unknown. In an interview with writer Mariko Finch, the photographers mention that if they had said they were artists, they would never have received permission to go to Afghanistan. The Day Nobody Died offers a total eclipse of the standard shock imagery of war, instead offering a sublime abstraction of a non-moment in which the paper is deployed on a site where nothing happens, a "no mans land" if you prefer. The viewer has no opportunity to witness, and then forget, the poignant documentation of the artists' journey. Instead, they are haunted by his absence. In a space of such typical violence, viewers expect some sort of explicit, vulgar, and horrific imagery to surface of the brutality of the ongoing war. However, Broomberg and Chanarin go so far as to retaliate against the rules and regulations on what should or should not be classified as violent after their experiences as embedded journalists. Unlike photographs or visual images that vividly capture atrocities, they truly challenge the understanding of space, time, place and what we see andparticularly force readers to ask themselves what we expect to see from war. The work suggests this imagination of a war; a kind of distant, inaccessible space that most viewers have never witnessed. However, when these artists return from such a space with something to show, why is there outrage when they are presented with photographic paper? If one cannot bring back the literal meaning and reality of war through photographs due to the filtering process before they are revealed, will the interpretation of this alternative framing of violence be so precious? The Day No One Died, Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin, February 23. , 2015 In an interview with writer Rachel Somerstein, Adam Broomberg discusses the anxiety the viewer may feel while viewing the images. He claims that "it takes work to be troubled by words", and because the images "aren't aligned with anyone and don't so readily pronounce their political affiliation, that means they are dangerous in a way that words are not.” They capture a moment of time using space, literally, as an indicator of the context of their situation. The film's silky, seductive light-leak ombré nevertheless serves as a memorial tomb to the trauma of its context—and not just in its dimensions, which reflect a standard tomb. Broomberg & Chanrin reflect and encapsulate a moment - and a miracle - lost in time. Somerstein continues the discussion and asks Oliver Chanarin about the failures of this particular project. He admits that failure is inherent from the start; “we have failed to represent the news figuratively.” They failed to meet the expectations of the viewer who had a whole set of expectations for what Chanarin and Broomberg, as proxies for the viewer, could deliver from the front lines. I repeat, it is these failures that force us to question the way in which this work treats the categories of space and time. Why is there dissatisfaction when such a horrible space and moment is framed in this way? In a moment of terror and war, what should we ask? Even as an artist, there seem to be limits to how one should interpret a traumatic event. Who actually owns these frames? Author and photography theorist Ariella Azoulay addresses these kinds of questions in more detail. In her book The Civil Contract of Photography, she covers several areas of photography and examines in depth the relationship between photography and citizenship in disaster contexts. . Although much of his work does not directly correspond to the themes of this essay, we can extract elements that reinforce how viewers perceive war and how representations of violence are framed within a given space and time. Azoulay asks this question: under what political, legal or cultural conditions does it become possible to see and show the disaster that befalls those who can only claim incomplete or non-existent citizenship? The Civil Contract of Photography is an attempt to anchor the viewer in a civic duty towards the people photographed who have never ceased to be “there”, at this precise moment. She specifies that the photograph is not the property of anyone. Photography, in which photographs are taken on the verge of catastrophe, is also a form of relationship between individuals and the power that governs them. Azoulay evokes this notion of capturing a memory of this leadership, of this soldier's power to be preserved. She says “they pose for a photo taken by another soldier, preparing a souvenir to take home. Theiraction is irreversible, it is inscribed forever in the photograph. This photograph can now travel with them to their hometown, a safe space, and remember such an event from that time in their lives. Furthermore, she previously specifies that “citizens are above all governed. Emphasizing the dimension of being governed allows us to rethink the political sphere as a space of relationships between the governed, whose political duty is above all or at least also a duty towards each other, rather than towards power. in place. This statement can be interpreted in the works of Fernando Botero and the duo Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin. When it comes to depictions of violence, everything seems to have strict rules about what can be revealed, even if the truth remains. Another quite profound statement from Azoulay: "The world was filled with images of horror, and they loudly proclaimed that the eyes of the viewer had become blind, thus absolving themselves of the responsibility of clinging to the elementary gesture of looking at what is presented to the gaze. This echoes what Michael Taussig writes briefly in his book Zoology, Magic and Surrealism in the War on Terror. He comments on how certain roles can cause someone to behave in a certain way, simply because they are fascinated by the unknown, by what is foreign to them: "...understand why the guards at Abu Prison Ghraib were stupid enough to photograph their actions. They were forced to do so. Fascination with the abomination means you can't stop staring precisely because it's so heinous, as if what you're looking at is staring back at you and staring back at you like a deer in headlights. In a way, it could be argued that Fernando Botero was fascinated by the graphic images he saw of the Abu Ghraib detention center and that he too was fascinated by these scenes. He “locked himself in his gaze” and thus produced a series of drawings and paintings which questioned what is happening in these places so physically distant from us. Comparing the paintings of Fernando Botero with the works of Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin, it is clear that they each depict a war in different spaces and at different times. It’s obvious that the process of creating their pieces took a lot of time and thought. Paintings take longer to produce something than a single click of a camera, so they are different temporalities from the creation of a particular work. Botero's painting comes from a photograph, and thus the temporality is transferred into the other and there is then a laborious process of creation that comes into play. On the other hand, Broomberg and Chanarin act as if he was a stunt, forcing the soldiers to carry a box whose contents are unknown to them but soon realize that they are only carrying paper. There is outrage in both cases but it is explored in different ways. Firstly, the medium is different and therefore creates tension between the works - one (Botero's works) is extremely explicit and there is this depiction of violence in which the victims are subjected to torture. Botero's laborious creative process when painting these figures requires him to truly invest in the experience of transposing a given space and time. As for Broomberg and Chanarin, they are doing something different, they are choosing not to participate in providing sanitized, vulgar and explicit images and instead providing what appear to be rolls of paper with nothing really to show for their journey. The irony here, however, is that the result is as good as it would have been.