The floor of the classroom is showered with gray dust and scattered pieces of concrete. Desks are flipped and strewn across all directions, while the ceiling of the building is ripped and tattered, leaving barren holes on the roof, from which a series of broken electrical wires hang lifelessly. The hallways are littered with broken glass, and the once colorful children’s books are blackened and disfigured into a burned mass of brown paper. Witnessing the remnants of the bombing at Kharkiv Specialized School #62 in Ukraine, Carol Guzy raises her camera with shaking hands, heartbroken yet determined to capture the devastating sight in front of her.
Carol Guzy is a renowned photojournalist who has won four Pulitzer Prizes—in 1986, 1995, 2000, and 2011—for capturing images of people suffering from the mudslide in Colombia, the military coup in Haiti, the refugee crisis in Kosovo, and the devastating earthquake in Haiti. Her recent work also focuses on Ukraine and migrants seeking asylum in the U.S.
Despite Guzy’s raw, evocative portfolio of tragedies from around the world, she began her photography journey like most others—by taking pictures with an Instamatic camera as a child, often capturing images of dogs and flowers. She also maintained an artistic streak in her teenage years and dreamed of being an artist. However, due to financial constraints, she decided to attend Northampton Community College to pursue nursing, which she soon found out wasn’t her path.
“When I was in high school, I loved art,” Guzy said. “I lived in the art class and I wanted to be an artist, but we were so poor that I realized that was not practical. I went to school for nursing, which was practical, but wasn’t a good fit. But once I had that under my belt, I knew I didn’t have to struggle like my mom did.”
Ironically, it was nursing school that reignited Guzy’s fascination with photography. There, Guzy took a darkroom class that dealt with print and film, and was immediately enraptured by it.
“That was a defining moment,” Guzy said. “The first time a print came up in a trailer, it was the most magical thing I’ve seen in my entire life. I still don’t remember what picture it was, but I remember the feeling.”
Guzy became especially charmed by photography while tinkering with the SLR camera she was gifted, and after earning her degree in nursing in 1978, she entered the Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale the following year, where she pursued an applied science associate’s degree in photography.
“I took one photojournalism class, and I pretty much knew that was my path,” Guzy said. “So it’s definitely a mission and a calling. It’s never ever been a job. Never.”
As a student, Guzy interned at the Miami Herald and became a staff photographer after she graduated from AiFL in 1980. After eight years working for the paper, she moved on to work for The Washington Post until 2014. It was during this time that Guzy won many awards for her visceral photography work and became the first journalist to win four Pulitzers.
Over the years, Guzy learned that the most important trait to have as a photojournalist was not the skill with a camera, but empathy. She explains that the best way to get photos is to go by her gut feeling and capture the moment, going by what moves her.
“I’m very much a moments person,” Guzy said. “That’s the most important thing for me in a photograph. It’s not the technical stuff, because nine times out of 10 [the photos] are not quite sharp or exposed perfectly, but I’d much rather see a moment that can really touch someone. The goal is not to make people think, but more so to make them feel.”
Guzy decided to take on a mission in covering humanitarian issues, since it is often the civilians who suffer the most from wars and conflicts.
“I photograph war because I hate war, and I’ve seen the horrors that people endure,” she said. “I think we all wish we could take that one photograph that will end all wars, but our species is not necessarily the best of all species. And, you know, history tends to repeat itself, so it’s been really discouraging to see what we do to each other over and over again.“
Inevitably, Guzy often found it hard to control her emotions while witnessing the hardships unfolding in front of her, especially at the beginning of her career. Although she gradually learned to control her emotions as she took pictures, she still feels overwhelmed by the enormity of the scenes she procures into her camera roll.
“I cry a lot of times when I’m seeing something,” Guzy said. “But more times than not, the camera’s kind of a shield and you’re there to do a job, and you have to put your own emotions on hold. Afterwards, while editing, you kind of get slammed by the enormity of some stuff you witness.”
However, as she went further into her career, she realized that it was important to let herself be open about her feelings, rather than forcibly repressing them.
“We’re not walking cameras, we’re not robots,” Guzy said. “Of course we’re going to feel something. It doesn’t mean we can’t be fair while we’re reporting, but we also have to take care of our own hearts. I realized that I’ve got to be vulnerable and say, I’m hurting too, and I need help, go to therapy or garden or do whatever it takes. But absolutely share. I think the more open we are about our feelings, someone else can connect and feel a little more courage to share their own issues.”
Guzy believes photography has a specific power to it that videos or writing cannot capture. By visually presenting the story of a specific group of people, Guzy humanizes their perspective to the viewers and allows for understanding and empathy that stretches beyond race, gender, and nationality.
“People don’t connect with numbers,” Guzy said. “They connect with humanity. And you know, if you can have someone focus on that one child or that one group of people suffering, and they can be your neighbors, it brings it home. We have a universal language with photography, and that’s emotion.”
Unfortunately, Guzy states that it is a hard time to be a journalist, especially due to the distrust people have towards news outlets after the rise of social media and rhetoric marking them as “an enemy of the people.”
“I mean, all the news stations are flawed in a way, but there’s some stuff that’s blatantly untrue that people just buy into because it fits their agenda,” Guzy said. “We’re all fallible, we’re going to make mistakes, but at least true journalists try their best to get it right. Some people don’t understand that you need to view things from a lot of different places in order to get an accurate take on what’s happening, especially politically right now.”
Despite the general deterioration of journalism in the present day, Guzy still finds value in the field and trusts that it is essential for the public to know the truth and act for the better.
“I think there’s a great power in journalism,” Guzy said. “I still believe—maybe naively and idealistically—but I still believe we can make a difference, you know? And at least make people aware [of what’s going on]. As long as they know, there’s generally also a lot of good people in the world and hopefully their change will be for the better, even in small ways.”
As of now, Guzy works as a freelancer, doing small projects and keeping up with politics and protest movements in the country. She also hopes to have a book published in the future, when she is able to procure more time for herself.
Ultimately, Guzy believes that the message behind her work is hope—the belief that despite the most dreadful atrocities that pervade the world, there is still love, courage, and life.
“I never realized it for a lot of years, but people used to look at my photos and say they saw hope, and they would be [pictures taken] in sometimes unbelievably tragic, dire circumstances,” Guzy said. “And then I realized that I was probably subconsciously, actively seeking out moments of hope. I guess I just want to show that there’s still hope in this world. Because once there’s no hope, we’re doomed, you know? So at least I hope there’s hope in my photos. I think there is.”
