On Sunday we went to the Tate to see the exhibition of Don McCullin's photographs. It is a big, excellent show of his work - review here which says that the work is almost overwhelming. It did overwhelm me; I was thoroughly depressed by the time I had reached the last room, where even the soul-salving landscapes are printed so dark that they pervade gloom. The still lives are calming, but again McCullin who prints his photographs dark, seems to continue to see inhumanity leaking out everywhere.
The emotion I still carry in response to the stark statements of witness is one of shame and helplessness in the face of humanity's continuing, repeated basest instincts. Yet out of this strong emotional response has come a need to work, and this thought:
