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The Boston Globe
March 20, 2005, Sunday THIRD EDITION
IT CAME FROM BENEATH THE EARTH
PHOTOJOURNALIST CAPTURES BIG DIG
by By Ron Fletcher, Globe Correspondent
Camouflage no longer defines Michael Hintlian's wardrobe. The
photojournalist's predawn groping for a pair of duck bib overalls,
safety vest, and hard hat has ended. Four thousand rolls of film
later, his attire differs once again from that of the Big Dig workers
whom he spent seven years chronicling unofficially. Morning musings
now revolve around ideas other than how to slip unnoticed into a crew
of ironworkers or piledrivers.
These days, when he returns to the sites and sights he visited
thrice-weekly, it's in the humdrum role of commuter.
"I'll still take a few shots of the project from my car
window as I'm driving through town," said Hintlian. "Even though the
bulk of the work is done, there are still some interesting things
going on. I can't quite accept that my work there is over. It's like
Frankenstein's obsession, but one I certainly don't regret."
>>From 5,000 prints, Hintlian has culled 65 black-and-white shots that
capture the trials and triumphs of the country's largest public works
project. They appear in the recently published book "Digging: The
Workers of Boston's Big Dig." In images that convey the menace and
promise of iron, steel, and concrete, Hintlian has highlighted the
faces, arms, hands, and torsos of some of the Dig's 5,000 workers. In
them, you glimpse the living that takes place between the taxing
shifts.
"My core interest was exploring where work and worker meet," said
Hintlian. He recalled the very first shot he took, an image that did
not make it into the book but remains a personal favorite.
"It was early in the project, back in 1997," said Hintlian. "This
group of ironworkers were doing some preliminary work, rigging a huge
beam. I caught this image of their arms just their arms coming into
contact with the wire cable and the steel column. That dazzled me.
That opened the door."
Hintlian's previous work focused on the plight of Armenians after the
dissolution of the Soviet Union. With the Big Dig project, which
initially seemed like a welcome distraction from the grief and
struggle throughout his grandfather's post-genocide homeland,
Hintlian unearthed some common denominators and evolved as a
photographer.
"Photographers often struggle with the classification of their work:
Is it art? Is it journalism? Is it lasting or fleeting?" said
Hintlian, 56.
"I've begun to see my work more in terms of history," he said. "I
hope and trust that I'm putting together a body of work that in 50 or
100 years will add to our understanding of what happened in a
particular place at a particular time to particular people, whether
it's Armenia or downtown Boston."
A full-time photojournalist, Hintlian remains well aware of the
momentous events he missed during his subterranean days in Boston. "I
would have gone to Afghanistan and Iraq," said Hintlian, "but I was
too deep into this project. Also . . . I was finding a voice and
direction I'd been looking for as a photographer. I was learning not
to let my conscious mind get in the way. . . . I can't wait to return
to Armenia with this new approach to what I do."
Though Hintlian now drives through the city in civilian clothing,
he recalls fondly his days among the hard-hatted workers.
"I had this, well, tool that weighed 19 ounces, while they handled
tons of steel," said Hintlian. "Still, we were both there to build
something, bolt by bolt or image by image."
Michael Hintlian will discuss his Big Dig photographs at the Old
South Meeting House at 310 Washington St. Wednesday at 6:30 p.m.
Admission is free.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
March 20, 2005, Sunday THIRD EDITION
IT CAME FROM BENEATH THE EARTH
PHOTOJOURNALIST CAPTURES BIG DIG
by By Ron Fletcher, Globe Correspondent
Camouflage no longer defines Michael Hintlian's wardrobe. The
photojournalist's predawn groping for a pair of duck bib overalls,
safety vest, and hard hat has ended. Four thousand rolls of film
later, his attire differs once again from that of the Big Dig workers
whom he spent seven years chronicling unofficially. Morning musings
now revolve around ideas other than how to slip unnoticed into a crew
of ironworkers or piledrivers.
These days, when he returns to the sites and sights he visited
thrice-weekly, it's in the humdrum role of commuter.
"I'll still take a few shots of the project from my car
window as I'm driving through town," said Hintlian. "Even though the
bulk of the work is done, there are still some interesting things
going on. I can't quite accept that my work there is over. It's like
Frankenstein's obsession, but one I certainly don't regret."
>>From 5,000 prints, Hintlian has culled 65 black-and-white shots that
capture the trials and triumphs of the country's largest public works
project. They appear in the recently published book "Digging: The
Workers of Boston's Big Dig." In images that convey the menace and
promise of iron, steel, and concrete, Hintlian has highlighted the
faces, arms, hands, and torsos of some of the Dig's 5,000 workers. In
them, you glimpse the living that takes place between the taxing
shifts.
"My core interest was exploring where work and worker meet," said
Hintlian. He recalled the very first shot he took, an image that did
not make it into the book but remains a personal favorite.
"It was early in the project, back in 1997," said Hintlian. "This
group of ironworkers were doing some preliminary work, rigging a huge
beam. I caught this image of their arms just their arms coming into
contact with the wire cable and the steel column. That dazzled me.
That opened the door."
Hintlian's previous work focused on the plight of Armenians after the
dissolution of the Soviet Union. With the Big Dig project, which
initially seemed like a welcome distraction from the grief and
struggle throughout his grandfather's post-genocide homeland,
Hintlian unearthed some common denominators and evolved as a
photographer.
"Photographers often struggle with the classification of their work:
Is it art? Is it journalism? Is it lasting or fleeting?" said
Hintlian, 56.
"I've begun to see my work more in terms of history," he said. "I
hope and trust that I'm putting together a body of work that in 50 or
100 years will add to our understanding of what happened in a
particular place at a particular time to particular people, whether
it's Armenia or downtown Boston."
A full-time photojournalist, Hintlian remains well aware of the
momentous events he missed during his subterranean days in Boston. "I
would have gone to Afghanistan and Iraq," said Hintlian, "but I was
too deep into this project. Also . . . I was finding a voice and
direction I'd been looking for as a photographer. I was learning not
to let my conscious mind get in the way. . . . I can't wait to return
to Armenia with this new approach to what I do."
Though Hintlian now drives through the city in civilian clothing,
he recalls fondly his days among the hard-hatted workers.
"I had this, well, tool that weighed 19 ounces, while they handled
tons of steel," said Hintlian. "Still, we were both there to build
something, bolt by bolt or image by image."
Michael Hintlian will discuss his Big Dig photographs at the Old
South Meeting House at 310 Washington St. Wednesday at 6:30 p.m.
Admission is free.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress