Art Work – On the Creative Life

Sally Mann photographs in black and white. She sees her subjects that way too — stripped of ornament, distilled to their essence. In her world, light and shadow are not merely technical choices but emotional languages. There is a phrase she follows: “Dove sta memoria” — where memory lives. This idea invites me to consider how art holds memory, not simply as a record of the past but as a living, breathing presence.

“What we love is what remains. Where we are is who we are. And who we are — what we do — is defined and enriched by the exigencies of place.”

For Mann, place is not a backdrop. The American South she photographs becomes a vessel of identity, memory, and meaning. The land holds stories, and she listens. Her images are suffused with that listening — with humidity, history, and an intimacy that feels almost too close to touch.

Being alone in Sally’s studio felt like being mentored in silence. Surrounded by her tools, her images, and the weight of her presence, I wasn’t just learning how to make art, I was learning how to feel it. The space itself was generous. Gorgeous. And when it was empty, it wasn’t really empty. It was full of memory, intention, and the kind of honesty only solitude can teach.

Her photographs remind us that life is fragile, fleeting, and dreamlike. Her work wakes us up to that fact through a deep, unwavering gaze. She doesn’t simply observe life, she pours her own into it. Her photographs are raw, personal, and intimate, making memory tangible and presence permanent.

Through her art, the ephemeral becomes eternal. What we love remains.