The photograph is not there as evidence of the accident. It is there to establish the aura of the motorcyclist: young, relaxed, self-assured and apparently in control of a powerful machine. Placed beside the photographs of his injuries, it creates the familiar contrast between confidence before the event and vulnerability afterwards. He reminds me of a friend of my father who rode a BMW motorcycle with a sidecar. He was a construction worker and once laid a granite floor in our house. He seemed strong, capable and entirely self-reliant. That self-assurance changed after his wife died from kidney disease, and towards the end of his own life he had to rely financially on his daughters—all of whom rode motorcycles themselves. Perhaps that is the real story behind such photographs. A motorcycle can become a symbol of freedom, strength and independence, but neither the machine nor the image protects its owner from the moment when that independence suddenly disappears.
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