Behind every indelible picture, an inspiring story

George’s philosophy and perseverance in pursuing fresh perspectives continue to inspire me every day to relook ordinary situations.

Before the age of digital news, newspapers brought the world and its events to readers.

And Mr Jerry Seh was among the photojournalists tasked to capture the images of international sporting events such as the Olympic Games and Fifa World Cup.

The process was painfully slow – he had to shoot, develop, scan and then send pictures back to the newsroom using a dedicated photo transmitter.

“No picture? Then don’t come back,” Jerry recalled editors telling him in jest.

Now 87, he estimates he had something like a one in 36 chance of getting a good shot.

On a roll of film with 36 exposures, “sometimes, only one or two pictures are good”, said Jerry, whose key body of work coincides with the golden years of Singapore football from the 1970s to the 1990s. Despite just taking just two rolls of film to every assignment, he always came back with special moments.

On his living room wall hangs an iconic picture he shot at a 1986 World Cup match in Mexico between Spain and Brazil. The ball had crossed the goal line from Spanish player Miguel Gonzalez’s shot, but the referee did not see it and disallowed the goal.

Jerry was the only photographer to capture the goal, and his picture was splashed across many newspapers around the world, settling once and for all what would have been hours upon hours of argument over whether the ball crossed the line or not.

When Jerry first applied to work as a photojournalist at ST, there was no vacancy and he had to be a “machine boy”, or someone who maintained the printing press, for two years.

Eventually, he became a photographer, first for New Nation from 1970, and then in ST from 1982. He would go on to cover two Olympics, three World Cups and countless Malaysia Cup soccer finals and sporting events.

He loved the small moments, too, often spending his free time in the past shooting football players training at the Farrer Park field. 

Whether they are big or small, there will be moments a photographer will miss capturing, Jerry said to me. His words struck a chord with me, as I have often beat myself for letting a moment slip by.

In encouragement, he said: “As a photographer, you must be patient. Don’t lose your temper. Sometimes you will miss things, maybe you’re too fast or slow. But the important thing is you must learn from it.”

Picture editors play an important role as a bridge between photojournalists and editors in the newsroom.

ST’s former picture editor Stephanie Yeow, 54, now deputy head of visualisation, told me of the time she fought so hard for a picture to be used that she teared up.

In 2006, executive photojournalist Wong Kwai Chow spotted the name T.T. Durai, then National Kidney Foundation (NKF) chief executive, in the visitors’ logbook at Corrupt Practices Investigation Bureau (CPIB). At that time, news had broken that Durai had mismanaged funds for lavish and personal use at the NKF.

Together with a reporter, Kwai Chow monitored everyone leaving the CPIB building. After a 12-hour stakeout, he snapped a photo of a man crouching awkwardly in the back of a car.

When he showed the photo to Stephanie, she did not know what to make out of it because the photo was blurry and Durai was not clearly seen. But one detail stood out: a ring. 

Stephanie immediately searched the photo archives and confirmed it was Durai’s ring, and pushed for the picture to be used the following day. Up to that point, there were no published photos in the media of Durai taken after the scandal broke.

The night editor opposed running the unorthodox image, as he was not entirely sure the man in the car was Durai.

“I was livid. I was so angry that my eyes welled up with tears because Kwai Chow put so much effort into getting this picture but it was not going to see the light of day,” Stephanie said.

In the end, the photo ran in the paper after the night editor was convinced the man was indeed Durai and the call was a correct one. It won Kwai Chow the News Picture of the Year award.

“A good picture is one that hits you,” Stephanie said. “Of course, everyone has his or her own opinion, but when a picture works, people will look at it and say, ‘Wow, this is fantastic’.”  

Around the year 2000, photojournalists made the switch from film to digital cameras, paving the way for the ST picture desk to launch a visual journalism site called Through The Lens in 2010, as well as a multimedia photo essay series titled Home in Focus in 2015.

Photo essays have given me the chance to delve deeper into other people’s lives and overlooked aspects of society.

The

section, which runs in ST every fortnight, is managed by senior executive photojournalist Neo Xiaobin, 42, who has guided me through many stories.

She told me how her first photo essay made a profound impact on her.

In 2010, the body of a Chinese woman, Ms Li Hong Yan, was found floating in a pool at a bungalow in Sentosa Cove. Reports indicated she had spent the night at a KTV lounge with the house owner before entering the pool and drowning.

Ms Li had come to Singapore seeking a better life, but her dreams were cut short. Her family came from China to take her remains home.

When the family allowed ST to follow them back to Heilongjiang province, Xiaobin seized the opportunity, seeing a chance to tell a story beyond the headlines.

“There was no reason not to go. (The family) gave us access, and I was the one who was able to go,” she said. She felt compelled to tell the story, whether or not it would be published, so she took her two weeks of annual leave to go to China.

Her picture desk colleagues supported her, with photojournalist Ng Sor Luan covering the wake in Singapore and photographers Desmond Lim and Samuel He helping her to pitch the story to the editors.

“Once (the family) access was given, it became a responsibility to tell the story as best as I could,” she said.

Among the many things she learnt in her first photo essay was how to manage her own emotions while being sensitive to the family’s grief.

After the story was published, many readers reached out, asking how they could support Ms Li’s family.

“The response to that story affirmed the role I play as a photojournalist, that the stories you do matter. My first feature became a guiding principle. It opened my eyes to the power of what we can do,” Xiaobin said.

In her photo features, she often focuses on subtle details and nuances to bring out something unique even in commonplace scenes, such as a particular picture she snapped of children wading through water at Bishan-Ang Mo Kio Park.

Asked about this, she got emotional, recalling her late father’s reaction to the picture.

“When he saw my pictures, he said they made him smile, that there’s something about the images that brings joy. I don’t know if it’s something I subconsciously do, but for my dad to highlight it, it was very touching,” she said.

On the night of the Little India riot in 2013, I was a curious 17-year-old polytechnic student as I made my way to the area to understand what was going on. I did not have much training or access, so I could only take pictures outside the police cordon.

Later on, I saw ST photojournalist Mark Cheong’s pictures at ground zero – particularly the one of riot police in full gear with helmets and batons standing guard near an ambulance on fire – and the enormity of the incident hit me with force.

The unthinkable had happened – Singapore had a riot after more than four decades.

Photojournalists who have the courage and skill to capture critical moments of a nation’s journey are indispensable in our age where the use of artificial intelligence (AI) is rampant.

As photojournalists, we stand by a strict code of ethics and do not fabricate what we witness. We have a responsibility to tell the truth, to earn the trust of the public.

“Photojournalism is now more important than ever, especially with AI and the ease of creating false images in a matter of seconds. As news photographers, we become the eyes (on the ground) to put things on record,” Mark, 37, said.

While I still fear missing moments, at age 29, I have learnt to embrace the moment.

Whether I am covering an event or working on a picture essay, I want my pictures to tell a story.

Whether my pictures are in print or online, I hope they can make people feel something. That is what matters most.