Here’s my intro:
Sally Mann is that rare master of both pictures and words, and her memoir shows off that mastery: the visual images are perfectly woven into the text to tell her story. (While best known for her photography, Mann holds a BA in literature and an MA in creative writing.) This book covers her long, interesting life and career, including her friendship with the painter Cy Twombly (there’s a surprising scene of him people-watching outside of a Walmart) and her struggle to make art while being a mother to three children. It’s not often that an artist can tell their own story in prose that sings, and that’s what makes this book so special to me.
This book was on my list of 5 great books about art and motherhood, and a portion of the book also reads as a cautionary tale about using your children in your art:
Not only was the distinction between the real children and the images difficult for people, but so also was the distinction between the images and their creator, whom some found immoral…
On this subject, the story has a sad afterword, which I will leave readers to discover for themselves.
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