This is my favorite photograph by my mentor, Don Rutledge. I love it because the family’s eyes are not on Don’s camera, but on the missionary— their friend—standing just behind him. That simple detail speaks volumes about trust, relationship, and the deeper story behind the lens.
My friend and fellow photojournalist Martin Smith-Rodden recently asked, “What are your favorite historically significant photographs—and why?” This question sent me down a rabbit hole of reflection, not just about which images have shaped history but also about the deeper question: why we make these images in the first place.
Martin’s focus is the “why” as much as the “what” or “when,” and that resonates deeply with me. If we don’t understand the purpose behind our photographs, we’re just making pretty pictures without impact.
Seeing War for the First Time
In Shooting War: Photography and the American Experience of Combat, Susan Moeller reminds us how much the public’s view of war was controlled for decades:
“The importance of editorial decisions in the makeup and layout of a photo-essay cannot be overstated.”
For much of U.S. history, the images the public saw from war were carefully curated, often showing heroism and victory, rarely the cost. It wasn’t until the 1960s, during Vietnam, that Americans were confronted with images of their soldiers injured or dying. That visual truth changed public perception in ways words alone never could.
The Power to Shape Memory
Vicki Goldberg, in The Power of Photography, captures this duality perfectly:
“Photographs change nothing—but spread their influence everywhere.”
Photographs don’t topple governments by themselves. But they can crystallize a moment, amplify injustice, and become part of a collective memory that slowly pushes culture to shift.
Influencers Before Social Media
Before Instagram and TikTok, photographers could still move audiences—if they had the right platform. My mentor, Don Rutledge, was one of them. He spoke at the Atlanta Photojournalism Seminar four times, helped secure other world-class speakers, and influenced countless photographers. His 1970s photo story of a poor Mississippi farmer earned praise and sparked conversation in an era before “viral” was even a word.
When Access Is the Story
Some photographs are even more profound when you understand what it took to get them. Take William Allard’s National Geographic cover of an Amish boy holding a guinea pig. The photo is beautiful, but the real power comes when you realize the trust it took to be welcomed into a community that shuns typical cameras.
The Personal Project Effect
Some of the most powerful images come from personal projects when a photographer is deeply invested in the story. Eugene Richards’s work is almost entirely in this vein. W. Eugene Smith’s haunting image of the Minamata mother bathing her mercury-poisoned daughter remains one of the most affecting photographs ever made.
Accidents and Aftermath
Sometimes a photograph changes history almost by accident. Eddie Adams’s famous execution photo of a Viet Cong prisoner wasn’t staged—it was simply the right (or terrible) moment, captured without knowing it would become iconic.
And sometimes the original intent flips. Many lynching photographs in America were taken by white onlookers, printed as celebratory postcards. Today, those same images stand as damning historical evidence of racial terror.
The Real Question for Young Photojournalists
You can find countless examples of images that have impacted culture. But the deeper question for any young photojournalist is: Why are you doing this?
For me, the answer has never been to glorify the powerful. The stories I feel compelled to tell are of the everyday person struggling to be seen, often because those with wealth and influence refuse to pay honest wages to those whose labor sustains them.
Suppose you know your “why,” your photographs will carry more than just pixels. They’ll have purpose. And that’s what makes an image worth remembering.