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Biography & Autobiography. Nonfiction. HTML: A revealing and beautifully written memoir and family history from acclaimed photographer Sally Mann In this groundbreaking book, a unique interplay of narrative and image, Mann's preoccupation with family, race, mortality, and the storied landscape of the American South are revealed as almost genetically predetermined, written into her DNA by the family history that precedes her. Sorting through boxes of family papers and yellowed photographs, she finds more than she bargained for: "deceit and scandal, alcohol, domestic abuse, car crashes, bogeymen, clandestine affairs, dearly loved and disputed family land...racial complications, vast sums of money made and lost, the return of the prodigal son, and maybe even bloody murder." In lyrical prose and startlingly revealing photographs, she crafts a totally original form of personal history that has the page-turning drama of a great novel but is firmly rooted in the fertile soil of her own life..… (more)
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The publisher (Little, Brown) has done right by the author and her work, producing the hardbound edition with proper attention to design and materials. The book has heft, but it's not too big to hold comfortably. It's a pleasure to have it in one's hands and to turn and scan the pages. This is such a rarity nowadays that it's worth mentioning.
Loved this book in the beginning, especially the part about her husband's
This book should be read by photography enthusiasts, students, and fans. Hold Still should also be read by anyone who likes to read well-written books. Nearing 500 pages, reading this book may seem intimidating to some, but its pages are filled with beautiful prose and photographs that surely will not fade from your memory anytime soon. The determined reader could finish this book in one sitting. I personally read it in about three days due to the holidays, but I did read a majority of it in one.
Over her creative life, Mann (now in her 70s) has moved from one major project to another, each taking several years. After photographing her young children, she moved on to landscapes, then black men. Later she focused her camera on dead bodies. If you think you are shocked by her nude children, wait until you get to the chapter showing photos of decaying corpses.
Mann describes herself as a rebellious child who refused to wear clothes and, when forced to put them on, refused to take them off, wearing them until they became filthy rags. She offers photos taken by her parents to prove both points. The rebellion continued into college and, indeed, until her marriage to Larry Mann. When they had children of their own, clothing was optional on their isolated farm, and neither she nor her children saw anything wrong with her photographs. Thus she says she was amazed when much of the reaction to “Immediate Family” was negative. It even led to stalkers and fears for her life. Yet the book continued to sell for years. The public, shocked or not, wanted to own her book.
She writes not just about her own life but about the lives of her parents and grandparents, and about Larry's parents, as well. These details, mostly discovered in attic trunks and supported by old photos also found there, are much more interesting than you might think. Her father, for example, was a physician, yet his abiding passions were art and death, usually art about death. Mann, when she got to the point in her career where she found herself photographing corpses, realized she had much more in common with her father than she once thought. "Am I suggesting here that I was born to redeem my father's lost artistic vision, the child destined to make the art that he was unable to make ...?," she asks. "Maybe I am, and maybe I was. God knows I have tried."
Mann returns again and again to her thoughts about the power and legitimacy of photographic art. At one point she describes photography as "an invasive act, a one-sided exercise of power, the implications of which, when considered in historical perspective, are unsettling." She is speaking here about her pictures of black men, but the words can apply as well to those of her children.
All in all, a good book on growing up, including sexuality, love, dislikes and work. Grew a bit tedious towards the end, but then, don't some of us?
An autobiography can easily become a platform for self aggrandisement and when I started Sally Mann's book I was very much aware that the author was writing about herself, however by the time I got to the end I felt that she had presented a rounded and believable portrait. The book is subtitled a memoir with photographs and there are plenty of her striking pictures on display which are integrated smoothly with her text. Various themes emerge from the book, helped by the fact that it is not set out chronologically and these are: family life, the culture of living in a confederate state, racism, her ancestry, photography and making pictures, landscape, horses and the art of seeing. There is also a portrait of Cy Twombly an important painter and sculptor who lived quite nearby.
There are a number of chapters on her family which have provided much of the inspiration for her work as a photographer. She and her husband chose to live on a farm by the river which enjoyed an isolated position and so the children were able to run free, just as Sally had done when she was a child. The pictures that caused the controversy were her pictures of her naked children. Her argument was that she was taking pictures of the children in their natural surroundings, however she was using a large format camera and so the children had to be posed: remember the title of her book "Hold Still". At the time when child pornography was being discussed and adolescent girls were being used in fashion photography, it is not surprising that Mann's photographs caused a bit of a furore.
Sally Mann had a black nurse which was quite usual for Southern white families with money. She looks back with a kind of horror that this was an accepted practice. She loved her black nurse/nanny and she is pretty sure that that love was returned, there is nothing that she can do now, but lament on the situation now that she understands the difficulties that her nurse faced during the years of segregation. Her thoughts come close to a baring of the soul and she does a similar thing with regard to the photographs she makes of people:
"It’s a tricky moment: taking the picture is an invasive act, a one-sided exercise of power, the implications of which, when considered in historical perspective, are unsettling. Photography is always invasive, but these experiences are consensual and, in the best hours, transcendent. I have had men, complete strangers, trust me enough to offer up physical characteristics about which they were sensitive—missing digits, scabby, eczema-ridden backs, surgical scars—with no prompting and no embarrassment in the quiet afternoon light of my studio deck."............
Exploitation lies at the root of every great portrait, and all of us know it. Even the simplest picture of another person is ethically complex, and the ambitious photographer, no matter how sincere, is compromised right from the git-go."
Her passion for making photographs and of working flat out to make great art comes across in her writing. Her use of large format cameras makes this a slow and demanding process, that she embraces to get the results that she wants. always looking out for that great photograph through laborious trial and error. She describes how she travels around with her portable darkroom, she talks about the excitement of discovering a new project, she is certainly ploughing her own furrow, learning as she goes along, not having had any formal training in photography. Her enthusiasm is infectious and readers can see the results in the numerous photographs contained in the book.
She spends a lot of print talking about her ancestors, like her photographic work this is a passion that she has explored in great detail. She seems to be searching out her own character traits, trying to ground herself in the people that she is descended from. This is interesting only when it reflects the society and provides context for her own situation, some of it feels a little self indulgent. Her father had a fascination with death, he was a good, kind, generous man, but lacked the ability to show his love for his family. He worked as a doctor of medicine and was well liked by his patients. Sally tries to walk in his shoes to discover more about herself as she too is fascinated by death. There is very little information about her mother and much more about her black nurse.
It is an autobiography where the author opens up about herself, working through her issues, coming to terms with the racism that was inherent in the society that she was part of. She also reflects about her chosen profession coming to the conclusion that photographs destroy memories. I am in agreement with her on this point, as I too think that we are in danger of only remembering the photographs of important events in our lives. Black and white photography and the processes involved in making pictures was a passion of mine before digital photography arrived and so I have a vested interest in Sally Mann's thought provoking book. It is also a brave attempt to place herself and provide a portrait of herself in words. It is well written for the most part and those atmospheric photographs make it an excellent read and feast for the eyes 4.5 stars.
The memoir is organized loosely chronologically, but also by subject matter: her mother, her father, her time away at school, her various photographic endeavors. She admits to being a "wild child," and she early found her twin passions of photography. She came to fame (maybe notoriety) with her series of photographs of her family, primarily her three children as the passed through the stages of childhood, sometime (gasp!) nude.
I think there is more in this book about her art and her artistic passion than her personal life, but her deep love of family and the land she lives on comes through. She is of the South, but conflicted by its obsessions with the past and the Confederacy. I enjoyed reading about her artistic process, though at times I was a little lost by her descriptions of some of the technicalities about photography.
This was a National Book Award Finalist, and I've had it on my Wishlist since virtually when it was published almost ten years ago. I'm glad I finally got to it.
Recommended.
4 stars
Of course, being a photographer, this book includes a lot of photographs -- many of her own, which she critiques -- and old-time photos of her relatives. That brought this memoir more to life.
All in all this was a fascinating read.