Time cover by Adam Ferguson. New York Times A1 by Zackary Canepari.
The photojournalist has long been known as the lone wolf, traveling solo to the far-flung corners of the world to document experiences few are capable of seeing. By function, it's often a solitary quest, lonely and alienating; rarely as romantic as the photographs make it appear.
So it's significant when a couple of fledgling photographers meet at a card table in New Delhi, far from their respective homes, and form a friendship. Even more so when, two years later, those same photographers, Adam Ferguson and Zackary Canepari, score almost simultaneous covers of Time magazine and The New York Times.
After that first meeting, Ferguson and Canepari developed a camaraderie and healthy competition in India that took them through the dangerous hotspots of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Together they learned how to navigate the logistical hurdles of struggling photojournalists in an underdeveloped country. They discussed photography incessantly and edited one another's work, always striving for that next level. They got assignments from top publications and ultimately developed a friendship founded in photography.
Raw File asked the pair over e-mail to describe each other's photography and the competitive bond that formed in some of the most war-torn countries in the world.
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Kathputli Colony by Zackary Canepari
"Canepari landed in Delhi with his Hassleblad in early 2007, roughly the same time as myself, a time when photographers where thin on the ground in India. We met over a poker game. He was smoking a cigarette and wearing his dirty Pirates baseball cap. There was definitely a sense of competition between us. He could play poker and I couldn’t.
But competition aside, Zack and I were both in a certain exile in the developing world trying to cut our teeth, and that left us on common ground. Many a night have we spent on a grubby New Delhi roof top talking drunkenly about religion and politics, going on about tech stuff and whining about our artistic disillusionment, lack of work and mounting credit cards debts.
Zack didn’t consider himself a photojournalist. He came from a portrait background in California. He cast his medium-format eye on stories about camel breeders and circus performers. He would photograph the quirky and bizarre -- things that changed over time, like shoes and hands and faces. He was barely interested in the news. But as I ventured off into Pakistan and Afghanistan, working more and more for magazines on digital format, Zack started grappling with the idea of portraiture versus reportage, film versus making a living, and where his photography lay. I was getting more assignments than he was, and I know that unsettled him.
Long Distance Truck Driver by Zackary Canepari
Although he’d never admit it, it was the right time for his Hassleblad to blow a part last year and leave him stuck on a digital camera. As soon as he got used to the idea of going digital, he started to show a stronger interest in the higher profile stories in the region and the idea of getting assigned to cover them. The first time I went to Afghanistan Zack laughed at me and said, “Never.” But soon after, he jumped on a plane to Kabul. He never had much ambition to photograph conflict, but he was hungry to push himself and was seeking work. It was a natural evolution. And now The New York Times calls him instead of me and I watch him fly off to Pakistan. Canepari does it better.
Although after getting himself established in the photojournalism arena in South Asia, Zack slipped back stateside in July and isn’t coming back to India, he tells me. He also tells me he is back on the Hassleblad and chasing quirky stories in California. I think Zack decided where his heart was and knew he now had the visual language to tell the stories he had in mental reserve. Although I would never tell him, I am glad to see him back exploring what got him started. Right now I am sure he is standing on a roadside in his Pirates cap photographing a neon hotel."
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Korengal Valley by Adam Ferguson*
"I met Adam at a card game in Delhi. I'm not sure either one of us especially likes playing cards so I'm not quite sure why we were there. We did both like smoking cigarettes though and quickly found ourselves outside talking shop. Typical shit mostly. Gear, work, places and artistic endeavor. Although we mostly started off from the same place professionally, I remember leaving that night feeling like I was in over my head. That feeling has subsided over time, but no doubt, Fergs has always been one step ahead of me. Which is probably why I've stuck to him for so long.
Even then, he wanted conflict and drama. At that point I only wanted kitsch and subversion (I still do). Clearly he's influenced me more than vice versa. The first time he went to Afghanistan, I said, "No thanks. Have fun." He put on his flak jacket before he left and I thought to myself, "No way, no how." But when he came back, all puffed up and fully of glory, I got inspired. Eight weeks later I landed in Kabul; his bullet-proof gear slung over my shoulder.
Adam is a throwback. He is a manual lens. Somewhere in a parallel dimension he is farming in Australia. I don't think he knows what a blog is. Nor does he get sucked into the photo ego trips that plague our industry. Don't get me wrong, he has a big ego. I don't think we'd be friends if he didn't. But the dude is a straight shooter. More direct than roundabout. Ask him to help you edit something only if you got the stomach for it...
Korengal Valley by Adam Ferguson
Although we've found ourselves deep into the world of the professional digital journalist, I think we'd both smash our computers in a hot minute. Half of our conversations are about artistic compromise. Basically disgust in our own work and a desire to cut those ties and venture creatively, free of our professional burdens. But alas, the real world has limited space for photo vagabonds and the glory and finances of the professional world beckon more than ever. To his credit, he seems to only get the jobs that fit his profile. Maybe he'd be shooting slightly different stuff if he had his way, but somehow, I think he's exactly where he should be.
Yeah, we're competitors. The same people call him that call me. Usually him first, although I'm angling to dethrone him. (Keep it to yourself. He thinks we're friends.) Once in a while, I get his scraps and honestly, I'm happy to have them. But easily the best thing about my relationship with him and all the other photographers in my life is watching the progression. The improvements are visceral. Fergs is 10 times better than he was on poker night two years ago. Being that I am always a step behind, that means I must be nine times better. I can live with that."
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In the last few months, Canepari has worked for some of the best newspapers in the world, covering news in India, Pakistan and Afghanistan before retreating to California for some personal time. Ferguson is still at it, currently in Afghanistan. He was recently named of one of PDN's 30 Emerging Photographers and was added to the mentor program with the elite VII Agency. The two are helping to usher in the next generation of photojournalism in a time of rampant budget cuts, an overabundance of digital technology, and emphasis on celebrity gossip. It appears that as long as they're photojournalists, they'll never be rich and they'll never be famous, but at least they'll have each other.
