
This excerpt from Man and Beast: Photographs from Mexico and India features Mary Ellen Mark in conversation with Melissa Harris, editor-in-chief of Aperture Foundation, and Martin Bell, Mark's husband, former politician, and British UNICEF Ambassador. Mary Ellen Mark discusses her interest in photographing animals, her experiences creating the powerful images in her new book, the differences between 'Man' and 'Beast,' and how beasts can teach us to be better as humans.
Melissa Harris opens Man and Beast with this revealing insight into the internationally acclaimed photographer's personal philosophy behind her images of man and beast. View spreads from the book here, and buy the book for the full interview.
Join us at The Wittliff Collections on Sunday, April 27, at 2pm for an exhibition reception, artist talk, and book signing with Mary Ellen Mark in attendance. Find out more about the event here.
MEM and Beast
In December 2002 I found myself walking across Washington Square Park with my then-one-year-old Lhasa Apso, Ella, who was (reluctantly) wearing a fuzzy, bubblegum-pink boa—part of a ballerina outfit for children (although Ella would have no part of the tutu—just too demeaning, given her roots as a Tibetan palace guard dog). It was during that walk that I began to fully comprehend Mary Ellen Mark’s kooky, intense, and committed love affair with dogs. Ella and I were headed to Mary Ellen’s annual “Doggy Christmas Party.” Fifty to sixty dogs of friends and colleagues poured into her SoHo studio, both to attend the bash and to have their portraits taken. Sometimes at the party there are themes or props or backdrops or characters (an unfortunate soul dressed as the Statue of Liberty, for example, who posed with the dubious dogs)—but this year it was more or less simply about “festive attire,” hence the boa. I placed Ella on the platform for the shoot, whispering sweet “Sits” in her ear, until the time came for me to sidle away, as Mary Ellen prepared to photograph her. But Mary Ellen was not yet convinced by the composition, so she called to Ella to move “stage right” and “upstage,” along with other, non-doggy directions. Just an instant before Ella, overwhelmed, bolted decisively with cheetah-like agility, Mary Ellen made the portrait, which perfectly captures Ella’s funny imperiousness.
Mary Ellen becomes deeply invested in many of her subjects—sometimes knowing and photographing them over the course of many years, as she did with Erin Charles (a.k.a. Tiny, of the 1980s project Streetwise), and with the Damms, a homeless family that Mary Ellen photographed many times. There is often a performative or interactive element to the photographs, whether they are of twins, prom-goers, or street children, whether she is on the streets of Oaxaca, Mexico, where she teaches workshops each year, or at a horse farm in Connecticut or a circus in Calcutta, or photographing dogs—pretty much everywhere.
Mary Ellen’s sense of dogs’ unconditional love is matched only by her belief that beasts are, unlike man, rarely if ever gratuitously cruel. This understanding infuses Mary Ellen’s images with an unsentimental poignancy and a fully intentional anthropomorphism that, while sometimes ironic and other times unsettling, always render photographs that are remarkably engaging and winning.
— Melissa Harris, New York City, January 2013
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Mary Ellen Mark: I like animals you can relate to. And it’s interesting to observe them in their roles with people.
One of the things that fascinates me most about the circus is the relationship between the performers and the trained animals—how they depend on each other for life and for work. I know the animal-rights people are going to hate this, and I understand there is a concern about how circus animals are treated, but I myself didn’t see abuse—with only one exception. The animal trainers need the animals to survive, so they must treat them extremely well to make sure they are happy and in good health, and often there is a bond between them.