A little over two weeks ago Neil Burgess used the auspicious date of my birthday to declare that photojournalism was dead (and further that this death was simply the corpse being taken off of life-support rather than a dramatic exit from the saloon with all guns out in blazing-glory).

The awful thing is that when you read the piece it’s hard to argue with the train of thought (but you gotta somehow stay angry and fight back… maybe).

Read it here.

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