We all know Mark Mann from his soulful, close-up portraits of what it feels like to be like every celebrity, public figure, and president of the moment. Rich seems to be the right word that should be permanently incorporated into any discussion of the artist’s work. Today, however, we’re getting to know Mark Mann in a way you’ve never been.
Curious, disappointed, surprised, and even petrified. These aren’t the words I ever wrote to accompany America’s beloved portrait artist, but from his mouth to my keyboard – here they are. I was surprised, delighted, and honored to have gotten to know Mann and I am delighted to share the highlights of our conversation with you.
“As an artist, you are expected to make each successive piece unique and different, yet firmly consistent when placed alongside your previous work. ” – David Byle, Art & Fear.
If this is a goal that artists often aspire to, then Mark Mann has gone ahead and overturned the entire protocol in his latest series of photos. In this series of shots, Mann swapped camera light for natural light, randomly framing shots for wide and still shots to create movement. What made him do that? Epidemic.
With the pandemic bringing everyone’s work to a sudden halt, Mann found himself with a hole in his workload. “I found myself without a job and I didn’t know what to do with that time.” As he walked past one of his empty storage spaces, the light from the window spilling onto the floor caught his attention. It inspired him. He wanted to work on it: no off-camera lights, no reflectors, just that soft, quiet stream of light. That encounter, combined with a conversation he recently had with dancers struggling with pandemic unemployment is what gave Mann’s first book life: Motion at a stationary point: A dance poem published by Rizzoli.
When talking about the work, I asked Mann if he had learned anything about photography or about himself in this project. “I found myself shooting and as I was working, the image became darker and darker. What is going on here? I checked my dials to see if I had changed settings by accident. Ohhhhhhh, it’s the outside light that changes!
We laughed. Studio photographers can go years, even decades, without using self-changing lights. “If I feel like I know a lot about photography, [hands spread widely apart]I realized I know a lot about photography [fingers almost touching].” Taking so long to learn how to shape, navigate, and manipulate light and shadow, reversing the skill set made him feel almost as if he were relearning the basics. The light does whatever it chooses and the photographer has to adjust. “Lights in the driver’s seat.” Nor did he make the mission any easier: shooting with Leica medium format WILL at 3fps with manual focus. It was like my worst nightmare: natural light, slow shutter speed, manual focus and motion. He’s so brave. As a sports photographer ourselves, we talked about the meticulous selection that athletes and dancers apply to images. The fingers and toes should be just right, and the form should be correct. This rigorous process of elimination was sometimes challenging in terms of selection, but Mann encountered the unexpected.
“I find that sometimes, dancers love missed shots. Moments immediately before or after the climax of the movement. Those are images they’ve never seen before and they find them quite beautiful.”
One of my favorite quotes is, “Fears about art fall into two categories: fear of self and fear of acceptance by others” by Byles in Art & Fear. I asked Mann if he had any fears about the reception of his new work, or if he had sought over the years to distance himself from the public reaction to his work.
“Oh, I’m petrified!”
“You are?!”
“Completely petrified!”
His humility and transparency surprised me many times during our conversation. “Who am I to shoot dancers? I’m nobody.”
It took me a second or two to filter through the bulk of the answers that popped into my head. “Um, one of the most respected photographers in history today?!” “I’m Mark Mann!” It is interesting to see that an artist at his level of experience, knowledge, and success still has the same inner conversations as many of us when reviewing his work. He means he has no experience in the world of dance. It’s not a space where he’s an authority, so he feels a bit bold to release a picture book on the subject.
Mann and I met a few months ago at Imaging USA (which I wrote about This). I asked him: “At Imaging USA, where we met, I spoke to a number of photographers who felt that they were following a rut and somewhat lacked direction for their photography or career. mine. What would you say to these artists?” “Practice.”
I doubt he can say that. It is always the answer. He encourages photographers to take their cameras to new places. Try different lighting scenarios. Try different cameras. He pulled out a paper camera that a photographer had shown us while we were talking at Imaging USA.
He said he shot with it and its primitive nature was fun to work with. The interview has a recurring theme of “getting back to basics”. Light, and nothing else.
I ended our conversation with perhaps the most difficult question of them all. “I am one of those rare people who buy books. My sofa is lined with a scattered stack of books on art, writing, and mindfulness. I think I’m more of an exception than a norm in book ownership preferences. Why do you say people should spend money on picture books?”
After a laugh that seemed to acknowledge the weighty nature of the question, he talked about how he loved the inspiration he got from looking at picture books. Make a cup of tea, disconnect from the virtual world and sit quietly with beautiful pictures and turn the real pages. I totally relate to this. My books are pulled from my bookshelf, sometimes early in the morning, with my coffee when I have a big shooting day but I’m not ready to tackle it. Sometimes it happens in the middle of a shoot. My mind is tired, my creative energy is exhausted but I have to keep going. I’ll make tea and spend 15 minutes sitting by the window and reading a book in silence. It inspires, it quiets, it renews.
The book will be available for purchase “anywhere it can be purchased.” Mann and his team wanted to support the dancers who generously shared their time and talents. Proceeds from the books will be split between Mann, his production team, as well as individual dancers.
It was a privilege to speak to Mann. I was amazed at his humility and approachability. I’ve had mornings over a cup of coffee, sometimes in the evenings with a cup of tea after a tiring day, and read a few pages at a time. I enjoyed seeing not only the delicate images, but also the inspirational words that the dancers contributed. I will end the article with a quote by ballet dancer Megan LeCrone. I think many artists and photographers can also sympathize with her feelings.
“To some extent, the dancers relate to each other through the competition inherent in this art form. We compete for jobs, roles and rankings, but do we also compete with ourselves to be better than we were before, and perhaps to understand ourselves better? We all know what it’s like to wake up every day and face ourselves and our bodies. We try to accept ourselves to a certain extent, identify our limits or weaknesses, and then work through all of that to get to a place where we get better.”
Image used with permission of Mark Mann
