Theresa and the Tattooed Man

Untitled from the "At Twelve" series (Theresa and the Tattooed Man), Sally Mann, 1983-1985 

Looking through the work of Sally Mann at Jackson Fine Art this past Wednesday, hearing the story of Untitled from the “At Twelve” series (Theresa and the Tattooed Man), I wondered: how do you photograph the unseen? How do you capture the tension in the air? How do you depict abuse you have never witnessed? I look at this image now and my stomach turns. I feel Theresa’s discomfort, see her anger at the world for not noticing what has been happening to her. And perhaps I also see a smidgen of pride in her eyes, a certain toughness in her face that says to me, “I’m still here.” The inches Theresa puts between herself and the Tattoeed Man seem to make up miles. The dirt stains on the Tattooed Man’s shirt appear all too appropriate. Do I only feel that Mann has so perfectly encapsulated this moment because I now know the rest of the story behind the image? I no longer remember how I felt when I first saw this picture, before its history was revealed. How does knowing the back-story affect how I view this image? (Or any image, for that matter).

I now reflect on JB Rasor’s most recent (as of writing this) blog post discussing the necessity (or lack thereof) of writing accompanying a photographic project, for I feel this particular photo provides a good case-study. Mann’s images are incredibly powerful and more than capable of standing strong on their own, however, the power this picture possesses when paired with more information about its origins is astounding. How could Mann do anything but include this information along with her work? I realize that not every photographic project has a back-story quite like that of Untitled (Theresa and the Tattooed Man), but I just personally appreciate having as much information as I can about any work of art.