How many memories disappear with him ? It is a whole part of photographic history that disappears. It is sad, very sad. The sound of coins for the coffee machine that he sometimes used to finance a photographer’s travels to the other side of the world can be heard jingling in his pocket.
I remember Göksin, the emblematic member of the Paris Match Grand Prize jury, who tirelessly defended his troops against all odds.
He never abandoned his photographers, always pushing them on towards the sublime, perpetually hunting for the legendary Scoop. Such a great seigneur, Göksin even applauded his competitors’ scoops. Always on the lookout, each tidbit of daily life led him to a story, his creativity was boundless.
Sipa, HIS agency, was an extension of himself, news was his life.
Christine Spengler, Luc Delahaye, Françoise Demulder, Alexandra Boulat, Reza… the greatest photographers had all, at one time or another, worked with Göksin.
They were there, by his side, because it was him. He was also a precursor, sending Alexandra Boulat into Bosnia at a time when this country had yet to be in the news.
When he put his trust in Olivier Jobard, obsessed by the influx of migrants and who is today working on his 11th story, we are witness to brilliant results.
His discussions with Roger Thérond were always magical. They had a deep mutual respect, spoke the same language, that of two men passionate about photography, news, and scoops.
Göksin was such a great unifier and paternal figure that he will be leaving countless orphans behind. My thoughts are with Phyllis.