photojournalism, death of

On the day the World Press Photo Awards were announced, this seems appropriate. A couple of years ago, photojournalism was declared dead (viz: the lens blog in the New York Times). It certainly seems that way—no more magazines, no more assignments, no more money to pay for people to travel around their neighborhoods and the world and risk their lives and hearts.
    At Life, I used to work with some of the best documentary photographers in the world. These days they either work for National Geographic, try to transition into "art" photography or teach workshops that create more photographers who can't find work. Everyone's a photographer now—or a writer, as I was. Twitter and post, blog and Facebook and Instagram.
Yet I remain hopeful that someday there will be a new model to pay journalists. I can tell the difference between someone with a Flickr account and a real photographer; I can tell the difference between a real writer and a blowhard; I can tell the difference between a real actor and Snookie. (I can also tell the difference between me and a real photographer.) And I'm pretty sure that the average reader/viewer can as well. And sooner or later, they'll be willing to pay again. Maybe not for photographs or books on paper, except in private collections, but for the eye, the voice, the heart. People can tell.