February Not Fiction Book Discussions

In Hold Still: A Memoir with Photographs, Sally Mann looks back over her life's work as a photographer for its sources in family, place, and mortality.

Asked to deliver the Massey Lectures in the History of American Civilization at Harvard, Mann notes that "My long preoccupation with the treachery of memory has convinced me that I have fewer and more imperfect recollections of childhood than most people," so she turned to the boxes of family papers in her attic and to the social and cultural history of the rural South where she grew up. She says, "I will confess that in the interest of narrative I secretly hoped I'd find a payload of southern gothic: deceit and scandal, alcoholism, domestic abuse, car crashes, bogeymen, clandestine affairs, dearly loved and disputed family land, abandonments, blow jobs, suicides, hidden addictions, the tragically early death of a beautiful bride, racial complications, vast sums of money made and lost, the return of a prodigal son, and maybe even bloody murder. . . . And I did: all of it and more." Lively with incident, conversational and confessional in tone, Mann's memoir makes the reader feels as if she is having a conversation with Mann in her studio or walking with her on her beloved family farm in Virginia.

Mann's photographs are unconventional, and some would even call them controversial. In her photographic projects over the years, she has depicted her family's most intimate moments, her husband's body reduced by muscular dystrophy, the Southern landscape, dead and decomposing bodies, Civil War battlefields, and Black men. Acknowledging the inherently exploitative and reductive nature of photographs, Mann says of her work, "In general, I am past taking pictures for the sake of seeing how things look in a photograph, although sometimes for fun, I still do that. These days I am more interested in photographing things either to understand what they mean in my life or to illustrate a concept."And to viewers' shocked or judgmental reaction to her work, Mann responds, "How can a sentient person of the modern age mistake photography for reality? All perception is selection, and all photographs--no matter how objectively journalistic the photographer's intent--exclude aspects of the moment's complexity. Photographs economize the truth; they are always moments more or less illusorily abducted from time's continuum." Mann's photographs can be compelling, both beautiful and disturbing, calling up for the viewer unexamined aspects of their lives and the society and culture they live in.

Asked to account for her artistic interests and vision, Mann says, "As for me, I see both the beauty and the dark side of things . . . And I see them at the same time, at once ecstatic at the beauty of things, and chary of that ecstasy. The Japanese have a phrase for this dual perception: mono no aware. It means 'beauty tinged with sadness,' for there cannot be any  real beauty without the indolic whiff of decay. For me, living is the same thin as dying, and loving is the same thing as losing, and this does not make me a madwoman; I believe it can make me better at living, and better at loving, and just possibly, better at seeing." What do you think? What does Mann's memoir help you understand about her photographic works? If you had seen the photographs without benefit of the memoir, what would you have thought of them? What do you think of her understanding of the purpose of photography as a means of exploration rather than ornamental depiction? Is this a new concept for you? Do any of her photographs compel you, disturb you, or maybe both? Why do you think that is? How do you interpret the title of Mann's memoir, Hold Still? Do you agree that photographs essentially exploit their subjects and compromise memory? Have you found this to be true in your life? How has the use of photography in society and culture changed over the course of your life?

We hope you will join the discussion: Tuesday, February 2, at 6:30 p.m. at Main Library; Thursday, February 18, at 11:00 a.m. at West Ashley Branch Library; and here on the blog.