Tuesday, 19th October, 2021
I am saddened today to learn of the death of my friend, Jack Kurtz.
Jack will be remembered fondly by many people. Friends, family, colleagues; his wife, Cathy; we will all be thinking about the times we've spent in his company. I wanted to share a small selection of my own memories of time spent with Jack.
This is exactly how I remember Jack. Camera welded to his eye, intensely focussed, patiently waiting for the "decisive moment". If ever there was a more hard-working photographer, I've yet to meet them. Jack was tireless, still photographing to the last.
If you want to know where the action is, just locate Jack. Always in the centre of things. It makes me smile to think of all the hundreds of news story images and all the TV footage in which Jack makes a discreet appearance. His willingness to put himself in just the right place is what ensured his documentary images regularly made the front cover.
Jack and I jointly taught several photography workshops in Thailand, India, Nepal and Cambodia. He was the most generous teacher. He was always the first to arrive and the last to leave, ready to answer questions and to share a lifetime's experience. His endless patience and boundless generosity were qualities that our students always appreciated.
I love his expression in this snatched image. It's an expression that says, "Come on, sit down already. It's time to order. Food is coming!" That's a look of excited anticipation.
Jack loved Thai food. And I don't mean that Jack quite liked Thai food, I mean he adored it. But it had to be spicy. Street food was favourite. Jack always preferred sitting on a plastic chair in a busy street, eating freshly-prepared Pad Kra Pao Gai than going to a fancy restaurant, although we did manage to drag him to one occasionally.
Christmas, 2014. It was always a treat to meet Jack and Cathy for dinner. It's hard to think of Jack without Cathy or Cathy without Jack. They're an inspiring team. (I've written "they're" to be ambiguous. I wanted to write, "They are an inspiring team" and can't bring myself to write that in the past tense. Jack might not be around but I don't think Jack and Cathy will ever stop being a team.)
I was working on a project about people and their favourite food and asked Jack if he'd be a subject. He kindly volunteered, giving typically comprehensive answers to the interview questions and posing for portraits. His trusty Domke camera bag over one shoulder, cameras at the ready and, in this photo, looking ever so slightly uncomfortable being on the "wrong" side of the camera for once. "Are you going to take much longer? My friend chicken and basil is getting cold." He didn't say that out loud but now I'm imagining him thinking it and it's made me laugh/cry.
When we ran a photo workshop in Nepal, I went to the airport to greet the students when their various flights landed. It was a relief to see them each walk through Kathmandu Airport's Arrivals Hall.
But the best sight was seeing Jack and his Domke bag striding towards me. I knew that when Jack arrived, everything would probably go to plan. He was the most reliable colleague. When Jack said he'd be somewhere, you could be sure he'd be there. Probably three hours early, just to be safe.
If you're going to photograph Holi celebrations, be prepared to join in. This photo reminds of a truly happy day. Our photography workshop seemed to be going well, the team were making great images, the music was thumping, the sun was shining... Jack had been looking after one group of students, I'd been somewhere else with the rest, we bumped into each other amidst the noise, colour and chaos.
If memory serves, when we saw each other, covered head to toe in rainbow paint, one of us pointed at the other and whispered, "I think you've got something on your face."
Maybe Jack said it. Maybe I did. I don't know now. It's not even very funny and neither of us are comedians (clearly!) but we did often find the same, silly things amusing.
I don't know. Friendship isn't complicated. It's just two people with similar interests who respect each other and make each other laugh. Without ever trying — or probably even realising — Jack's friendship and example made me a more diligent and more considerate person. I hope he knew that.
This is the last photo I made of Jack.
Standing on a pier beside the Chao Phraya river in Bangkok, waiting for the river taxi to take us home. I think we must have said our final farewell shortly after, I wish we'd known then what we know now.
February, 2019.
Our shared time in Bangkok had come to an end. Jack and Cathy were about to head to Iowa. Tun and I were leaving for Vienna.
Jack and I took a final trip to Chinatown, shared tea and orange cake at the Double Dogs cafe, as we'd done many times before.
We strolled through the narrow lanes and alleyways, photographing not for any particular purpose other than that's what we do. What we did, I suppose.
We stopped at our favourite street food stall, ate curry whilst seated on plastic chairs, took the obligatory selfie, recording the moment. I'm grateful for that afternoon together, as I am grateful for all the adventures we shared.
Whenever we met, we'd talk about cameras, lenses and, crucially, camera bags; grumble about politicians, and gossip about characters in the photo industry, usually in that order. Then we'd go to work. Perhaps photographing a festival, a bustling market, street scenes, a political rally or a protest. I enjoyed working alongside Jack. We invariably did our own thing but had an unspoken understanding that made it easy.
I think Jack and I both suspected this afternoon in Bangkok's Chinatown might be the last time we'd see each other, even though we didn't know he was unwell then. We talked about meeting up, as you do. Perhaps Jack and Cathy might come to Europe, or maybe we'd visit them on their side of the Atlantic. But I think we both knew that the chances were slim and the distances great. Life has a habit of getting in the way of even the best-laid plans. And now death has taken away any possibility of meeting again and that breaks my heart.
If we had met again, I've no doubt the whole time would have been spent reminiscing about our adventures in Thailand, Myanmar, Cambodia, Nepal and beyond. For me, it was one of the happiest times of my life, not least because I was fortunate to have Jack's loyal and generous friendship. I'll always be grateful for that and I certainly won't ever forget Jack, my very excellent friend.
Thank you, Jack. I won't say "Rest in Peace" because resting was never your thing. I hope you've got that old Domke bag slung over your shoulder, your eye to the viewfinder and know you will be blessed with the very best light. Always.
Jack Kurtz, 1957-2021
From Jack's wife, Cathy: "One of Jack’s last acts was making arrangements for his ongoing royalties to be donated to help future international journalists. A firm believer in freedom of the press he will continue to support this with his royalties going to: Reporters without Borders: www.RSF.org.If you are so inspired, feel free to support the future in his honor: https://donate.rsf.org/us/donate/~my-donation."
Please explore and enjoy Jack Kurtz's online galleries: https://kurtzjack.photoshelter.com/archive and http://www.jackkurtzphotography.com/index