MARK TURNER holds on tight for a mesmerising display of Neath-born ragtime virtuosity

Goran Tomasevic
by David Thomson, Jean-François Leroy & Vincent Jolly, Alain Mingam
Edition Lammerhuber £49.72
I AM always suspicious of those photographers whose main preoccupation is war and conflict. They invariably maintain that their concerns are humanitarian and that they are documenting “the pity of war,” to paraphrase Wilfred Owen’s famous words about his poetry: “My subject is war, and the pity of war. The poetry is in the pity.”
So often, photographers turn into conflict junkies, getting high on the adrenalin rushes of being in dangerous situations, surrounded by shooting and killing. That may be somewhat harsh but it does apply to many. And photographers have to survive by selling images, so a tendency towards seeking the most sensational and harrowing images will inevitably be a strong motivational factor.
I would not put Goran Tomasevic in that category; his images transcend simplistic interpretations. He is certainly no run of the mill war photographer.
Tomasevic’s images sear themselves into your consciousness. I have never seen such powerful imagery that not only captures the horror of war itself but also its heartrending impact on innocent civilians, on our sense of our own humanity. But they do much more than that.

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