Assassination of Robert Kennedy 5 - 1968

Editor: This is Boris Yaro's gelatin-silver print, "Assassination of Robert Kennedy," taken in 1968. It’s raw and unsettling. The high contrast emphasizes the drama, making it hard to look away. What resonates most with you when you see this image? Curator: The most poignant element for me is the convergence of light and shadow. It transforms the photograph into an allegory of hope and despair, so characteristic of that decade. Editor: Can you elaborate on the allegory? Curator: Certainly. Light, traditionally a symbol of knowledge, revelation, and goodness, casts Kennedy's face in an almost ethereal glow. Juxtapose that against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him, and you have a visual metaphor for the fragility of life. It encapsulates the abrupt end to a man and a movement that many had invested their dreams in. Note how this one moment represents the cultural memory carried forward in time, still visible. Editor: That’s a powerful way to see it. It’s almost like a modern pieta, but one captured not in a studio, but in a brutal real-time moment. How much did photojournalists at the time consider the emotional impact and symbolic meaning they’d leave behind? Curator: Many were aware. They were crafting visual narratives, sometimes unconsciously tapping into archetypal symbols. The images resonated so deeply with the public that these photos, in turn, influence our memories and understanding of an era. Think about it – doesn't this one image hold an emotional and cultural weight far beyond its material existence? Editor: Absolutely. It makes me realize the heavy responsibility that comes with documenting history. Thanks for sharing your insights; I will never look at photojournalism the same way again! Curator: And thank you; the photojournalists gave us more than simple reporting of facts. This photograph still urges us to ponder the interplay of fate and the symbols we entrust with our hopes.