In the beginning of the documentary, Sally Mann mentions that the things you are closest to are usually what you photograph the best and that if you don't love what you photograph then you're not going to make good art. Though she has respect for those that travel for their shots, it is not for her. She goes on to talk about the influence of a child's book, Art is Everywhere, that her father gave to her as a little girl and how that in a way epitomizes her approach to art. Later in talking about photographing her children, she mentions that how they were playing and what they were doing would catch her eye and aid in her ideas for her work.
I found the introduction to be poignant and caused me to contemplate my own approach to my work. Her ability to photograph and direct her young children in her shots is astounding. In my own work, I've struggled with directing those around me to produce my vision, even those closest to me, and her ability to bring out their personalities to create a complex and beautiful photograph never fails to amaze me. Photographing the intimate has its own set of challenges. It takes trust on both ends, which Sally Mann also mentions in talking about photographing her husband. I've struggled with this in my own life. Even when I have the trust of the model, I don't trust myself enough to have the confidence to take the photograph. I'm afraid to direct the other person. It's hard to coach a stranger; the intimate for me is too personal to tamper with. In difficult times, I often have to wonder what my motives are and whether or not I should impose. A similar sentiment is shared by Mann, in photographing her husband and his battle with muscular dystrophy; this question of whether or not she should. The most memorable example of this struggle in my own experience was that with my father battling pneumonia on top of Leukemia and in the hospital at the time. I'd seen him in and out of hospitals and near death for about 6 years and had never brought my camera. This time I did. The first day I couldn't even approach the idea of photographing him because I was too afraid. He looked so fragile, unlike the image of him I've always had in my mind. After being told by the doctors that he could go at any moment, I made up my mind to get at least one shot of him on the second day. I took out my camera and he asked what I was doing. Being too afraid to say that it may be my last photograph of him, I told him it was so that he could look back afterwards and see his progress once he was out. I quickly took two pictures and put away my camera. Now that he is gone, I regret not taking the time to really look behind the viewfinder. I, like Sally Mann, was in denial of what my eyes told me. Was it right for me to take even those two photographs because those are the two last photographs I have of my father. Do I want to remember him in the prime of health or in the pathetic, helpless hospital state?
Photographing the intimate is leaving your heart bare and exposed and trusting that what your doing is right. You sacrifice comfort, but in exchange strengthen your trust.
I have a deep respect for Sally Mann and her ability to work through this issue of death that each of us faces. She's right in the fact that it was important work, but not a pleasant topic for most. Great art echoes timeless themes and enlightens our minds. I believe Mann to be successful in her endeavors to capture and understand death in a beautiful way.
