Story and photos by Sam Guzman
When I heard there was going to be a bullfighting event at a ranch on the outskirts of Arles, I jumped at the opportunity to photograph it. I had been to rodeos before, but I’d never attended a bullfight.
“La Corrida” is a centuries-old tradition for the people of Spain and Southern France. Bullfighters wear traditional outfits –- short jackets, knee-length trousers and boots — and dance with the bulls as spectators watch. It ends in the death of the bulls, one sword to the body and another to the head. To many people in this region, it is an act of honor.
I thought I was going to a practice session where the animals would not be killed. Marie-Anne Devaux, my guide for the day, introduced me to three of the matadors who were to be performing that day. Everyone there was incredibly charming and kind. They really made me feel welcome, and I was excited to shoot photographs of the bullfight.
Lalo de Maria was the matador up first, and it was fascinating to see him work. Lalo threw a red cape in front of the bull, and the animal charged towards him. Then a man on a horse provoked the bull to check its bravery. It was at that moment when Devaux turned to me and said, “Oh, they’re gonna kill the bull; you can tell because he has his sword in his hand.”
In this moment I felt conflicted; I didn’t come to this event to see a bull die. It was against my very nature to want to see something like this. However, I also knew that as a journalist it’s not my job to decide what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s not my right to go to a country I’ve never been to before, with a language I don’t speak, with customs I don’t understand and say that what they’re doing is wrong.
Photographing the bull as it’s dying, blood leaking from its mouth, its eyes starting to fade away, was the most important thing I could do in that moment.
As I put the camera to my eye, I thought of a photograph I had studied in school.
On July 22, 1975, in Boston, Massachusetts, 19-year-old Diana Bryant and her 2-year-old goddaughter were on a fire escape during an apartment fire, waiting for firefighters to rescue them. But the platform they were on broke and the two of them fell to the ground. Bryant died; her goddaughter survived.
A few feet away, Stanley Forman, a photographer for the Boston Herald American, was shooting the entire incident. He took a series of heartbreaking photographs, capturing the two bodies as they fell through the air. The photographs sparked a lot of outrage, and the press was charged with invasion of privacy. However, the photographs led to change; within 24 hours, the city of Boston altered its policies on the regulation and maintenance of fire escapes and other cities around the U.S. also passed new legislation, inspired by Forman’s photographs.
As I looked at the bull through my viewfinder, lying there, its life slowly leaving its body, I realized the power we photographers have in capturing death as well as life. Whether or not I support the practice of corrida, it’s my job to photograph this and show it to the world.
This is a personal reflection and does not necessarily express the opinion of The Arles Project or program sponsors ieiMedia or Arles à la carte.
