Ovo je prvi post u seriji FotoManijak preporučuje. Izbor sajtova u ovoj kategoriji je čisto lični i personalni, i neki sajt će se tu naći samo zato što se dopao FotoManijaku.

Prvi sajt koji morate da posetite je MediaStorm. MediaStorm koristi različite medije, fotožurnalistiku, animaciju, video kako bi što bolje ispričao svoju, često potresnu priču.

Prva priča govori počinje The Marlboro Marine fotografijom fotografa Luis Sinco - LA Timesa, koja je postala ikona rata u Iraku. Nastavlja se kroz život američkog marinca…

Los Angeles Times photojournalist Luis Sinco documented the marines assault on Fallouja in November, 2004. While capturing the ferocity of the conflict, he made a photograph of Marine Lance Corporal James Blake Miller.

Miller, weary from the battle, lit a cigarette, and Sinco’s photograph of that moment became an icon of the Iraq War. But the connection between Sinco and Miller runs deeper. After returning from Iraq, Miller tried to return to his previous life but found his nights haunted by images of war and his life fractured by depression.

This is the story of how Miller struggles to heal his scars of war. But it is also a story of how two disparate lives became connected on a rooftop in Fallouja, and how they both continue to struggle with what happened.

Ne propustite da pogledate The Ninth Floor od Jessica Dimmock - trogodišnji projekat koji prikazuje život narkomana u jednom squatu na devetom spratu zgrade na Petoj Aveniji na Menhetnu.

In 2004, anywhere from 20 to 30 young addicts lived on the ninth floor of an elegant narrow building overlooking Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. The squatters had turned the sprawling apartment into a dark, desperate and chaotic place.

People hustled, scored, shot and smoked wherever they could. Friends conned each other for their next hit. They slept on piles of clothes on the floor. The power was shut off; the bathroom unusable; the kitchen filled with garbage. Anything of value was sold off.

For nearly three years, Jessica Dimmock followed this crew documenting what happened to them after eviction, how they fought to get clean, sank deeper into addiction, went to jail, started families and struggled to survive.

Evidence of My Existence je priča fotoreportera Jim Lo Scalzo. Njegova priča je svedočenje o 17 godina lutanja svetom u potrazi za vestima.

As the video opens, Lo Scalzo is a blur to his wife, her pathological tolerance long ago worn thin. She is heading to the hospital with her second miscarriage, and he is heading to Baghdad to cover the American invasion of Iraq. He hates himself for this—for not giving her a child, for being consumed by his job, for leaving her again. But how to stop moving? Travel is a compulsive craving. An addiction. Heroin. The buzz is euphoric and the opportunities are infinite, all open to him as a photojournalist.

For Lo Scalzo, as with so many photojournalists, it’s about the going.