Vindauga

note: I orginally posted this on catoptric.com, but I wanted to archive it here, and I wanted to put something in the other categories I have created . . . without having to write something new.

This Christmas I received a copy of Sally Mann’s newest book, What Remains. She is a photographer whose work I have admired and whose ideas I have respected even more for a very long time. Many of you are probably familiar with her work Immediate Family or Still Time. Both bodies of work have a strong emphasis on her children, who were adolescents at the time the work was created. She received massive criticism for her depictions of her children in the nude, and her work was categorized as pornography by some, much like Jock Sturges. Fortunately, she was never prosecuted as Sturges was.

In What Remains, Mann attacks another taboo of society: death. When this project was first displayed in the Corcoran Gallery in Washington, D.C., the show was divided into five sections. (Corcoran Gallery also was kind enough to give Catoptric.com permission to reproduce the images seen here.) The five sections not only represent an aesthetic or stylistic grouping, but also an almost narrative-like quality.

Matter Lent

The idea seems to have began out of the death of her pet dog, and her unwillingness to simply bury her and never see her again. Instead, she skinned her, and dried her bones and fat, saving all of her remains and photographically documenting it. She documented the carefully arranged remains in her studio using an 8×10 camera and a process called wet-collodion (discussed more below).

The next section of this body of work delves a little deeper into the uncomfortable ideas of the sanctity of death. Sally Mann had in the past attempted to get permission to photograph on the “Body Farm,” an area for forensic study located in Tennessee, but had been unsuccessful. She was then invited by a New York Times reporter to accompany her for a story on the “Body Farm” and was able to capture the images which make up this section. This part of the work has already drawn some harsh reviews, for what I think are some of the best qualities of the images. Mann created these images using a wet plate process, which was common during the Civil War, and made somewhat famous by the work of the Matthew Brady studio. All of the images have imperfections: edges fading to black, bubbles, dust stuck in the emulsion–wonderful accidents. Many of the images have a certain ambiguity; you have to stare for a moment to ascertain what is body and what is earth. Some images even verge on ethereal. Others remain hard to look at, because the distortion doesn’t hide the harsh reality of the subject.

December 8th, 2000

The next section within the body of work is a set of images of her farm in Virginia. The impression I get from these photos is that emotional damage can be seen on a landscape. Perhaps I have oversimplified a very interesting set of ideas, which Mann has put forth, or maybe I have let the text drive my interpretation. The area she photographed is where an escaped convict committed suicide on her property after being surrounded by law enforcement. These are the only images that do not utilize a historical alternative process, but instead are 8×10 sheet film (I recognize the problem with saying 8×10 sheet film is not historical).

Antietam

The next section of images is of a civil war battle site where 23,000 died. These landscapes utilize the same wet plate technique and have some of the same qualities as the images from the “Body Farm.” However, the sweeping landscapes almost have the quality of the wet emulsion having reciprocity failure (I have no evidence this is correct, just my theory), with many scenes appearing as if photographed at night. These images push the line between symbolism and harsh reality further back in her narrative of death and what each of us leaves behind.

What Remains

The last section are images of Sally Mann’s children. Many of the images look like a death mask or possibly a post-mortem photo, but they all drive home the point of the body of work in a heavy handed way which I love. Some of these images utilize another historical method of placing a dark coated plate, or ?ruby glass,? behind the wet emulsion, creating an ambrotype.

Her work may not be the final argument for keeping the wet process darkroom, but I hope she never abandons her experimentation with traditional/alternative methods.

Along with my thanks to the Corcoran Gallery and Gorjus for the xmas gift, I should also credit Eleanor Heartney?s article in the January ?Art In America? for all of the facts not presented in the book What Remains. Sadly, it seems the show has not found any venues to travel to yet; if you know anyone with a gallery, let them know (especially if the person you know is in MS or LA).