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Art Work: On the Creative Life
Art Work, by photographer and writer Sally Mann, offers a spellbinding mix of wild and illuminating stories, practical (and some impractical) advice, and life lessons.
Written in the same direct, fearless, and occasionally outrageous tone of her bestselling memoir, Hold Still, this new book reaffirms Mann as a unique and resonant voice for our times and is destined to become a classic.
Illustrated throughout with photographs, journal entries, and letters that bring immediacy and poignancy to the narrative, Art Work is full of thought-provoking insights about the hazards of early promise; the unpredictable role of luck; the value of work, work, work, and more hard work; the challenges of rejection and distraction; the importance of risk-taking; and the rewards of knowing why and when you say yes.
In sparkling prose and thoughtfully juxtaposed visuals and ephemera, Art Work is a generous, provocative, and compulsively readable exploration of creativity by one of our most original thinkers.
Written in the same direct, fearless, and occasionally outrageous tone of her bestselling memoir, Hold Still, this new book reaffirms Mann as a unique and resonant voice for our times and is destined to become a classic.
Illustrated throughout with photographs, journal entries, and letters that bring immediacy and poignancy to the narrative, Art Work is full of thought-provoking insights about the hazards of early promise; the unpredictable role of luck; the value of work, work, work, and more hard work; the challenges of rejection and distraction; the importance of risk-taking; and the rewards of knowing why and when you say yes.
In sparkling prose and thoughtfully juxtaposed visuals and ephemera, Art Work is a generous, provocative, and compulsively readable exploration of creativity by one of our most original thinkers.
264 pages, Hardcover
First published September 9, 2025
217 people are currently reading
3922 people want to read
About the author
Sally Mann
31 books227 followersSally Mann (b. Lexington, VA, 1951) is one of America's most renowned photographers. She has received numerous awards, including NEA, NEH, and Guggenheim Foundation grants, and her work is held by major institutions internationally. Her many books include At Twelve (1988), Immediate Family (1992), Still Time (1994), What Remains (2003), Deep South (2005), Proud Flesh (2009), The Flesh and the Spirit (2010) and Remembered Light (2016).
In 2001 Mann was named “America’s Best Photographer” by Time magazine. A 1994 documentary about her work, Blood Ties, was nominated for an Academy Award and the 2006 feature film What Remains was nominated for an Emmy Award in 2008. Her bestselling memoir, Hold Still (Little, Brown, 2015), received universal critical acclaim, and was named a finalist for the National Book Award. In 2016 Hold Still won the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction. Premiering in March 2018, Sally Mann: A Thousand Crossings, opened at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. This comprehensive exploration of Mann’s relationship with the South traveled internationally until 2020. In 2021 Mann received the Prix Pictet, the global award in photography and sustainability for her series Blackwater (2008-2012). In 2022 she was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Mann is represented by Gagosian Gallery, New York. She lives in Virginia.
In 2001 Mann was named “America’s Best Photographer” by Time magazine. A 1994 documentary about her work, Blood Ties, was nominated for an Academy Award and the 2006 feature film What Remains was nominated for an Emmy Award in 2008. Her bestselling memoir, Hold Still (Little, Brown, 2015), received universal critical acclaim, and was named a finalist for the National Book Award. In 2016 Hold Still won the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction. Premiering in March 2018, Sally Mann: A Thousand Crossings, opened at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. This comprehensive exploration of Mann’s relationship with the South traveled internationally until 2020. In 2021 Mann received the Prix Pictet, the global award in photography and sustainability for her series Blackwater (2008-2012). In 2022 she was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Mann is represented by Gagosian Gallery, New York. She lives in Virginia.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 98 reviews
October 5, 2025
Art Work is exactly what a book on creativity should be: reflections from a lifetime of artistic immersion, extended with encouragement, unpretentious candour, and an awareness of their own irreducibility.
Though named 'America's best photographer', Sally Mann isn't in the business of providing advice – indeed, she is conscious of the circumstances of her own success and of how radically different even the mere possibility of sustaining an artistic practice looks like right now. Here, instead, is a much more heartfelt and meditative offering that draws on a lovingly preserved personal archive – decades worth of typed letters, handwritten journal entries, ephemera, and photographs both failed and famous – to make sense of the work behind her art, and the life she lived in pursuit and in abeyance of it: all involving promise and luck, distraction and rejection, trial and (lots of error), saying yes (and knowing why), staying true, moving onwards and back. If it sticks, it is because Mann considers the creative life as a woman who has always worked, who has not always had or been good with money, and who made her name while remaining far from the art world in rural Appalachia, while tending to three kids, but also as someone aware of having grown up with the privilege of being white and American in the 1950s.
The writing here is direct and evocative, juxtaposed with documentation to help place us in the mind of the woman she was at that moment, and that, and that, and this one too. There is a sense of Mann actively living an examined life here, a material, archival impulse to memory-keeping that is not in the least rarefied – hell, she even screenshots the entirety of her hard drive; makes a literal paper trail of emails. And while the actual act of creating art is a concentrated and ultimately lonely process, her correspondence with Ted Orland highlights friendship as a source for artistic community away from the more soul-sucking idea of 'networking'.
So even though this isn't a book of advice, it feels like welcome, constructive guidance – a generous, inspiring equivalent to Rilke's letters for young artists living and working today.
Though named 'America's best photographer', Sally Mann isn't in the business of providing advice – indeed, she is conscious of the circumstances of her own success and of how radically different even the mere possibility of sustaining an artistic practice looks like right now. Here, instead, is a much more heartfelt and meditative offering that draws on a lovingly preserved personal archive – decades worth of typed letters, handwritten journal entries, ephemera, and photographs both failed and famous – to make sense of the work behind her art, and the life she lived in pursuit and in abeyance of it: all involving promise and luck, distraction and rejection, trial and (lots of error), saying yes (and knowing why), staying true, moving onwards and back. If it sticks, it is because Mann considers the creative life as a woman who has always worked, who has not always had or been good with money, and who made her name while remaining far from the art world in rural Appalachia, while tending to three kids, but also as someone aware of having grown up with the privilege of being white and American in the 1950s.
The writing here is direct and evocative, juxtaposed with documentation to help place us in the mind of the woman she was at that moment, and that, and that, and this one too. There is a sense of Mann actively living an examined life here, a material, archival impulse to memory-keeping that is not in the least rarefied – hell, she even screenshots the entirety of her hard drive; makes a literal paper trail of emails. And while the actual act of creating art is a concentrated and ultimately lonely process, her correspondence with Ted Orland highlights friendship as a source for artistic community away from the more soul-sucking idea of 'networking'.
So even though this isn't a book of advice, it feels like welcome, constructive guidance – a generous, inspiring equivalent to Rilke's letters for young artists living and working today.
October 9, 2025
the first time i held this book in my hands at the bookstore, i thought, shit. this is going to change my life. i then proceeded to stand there, picking through it guiltily, before delicately placing it back in its place and forcing myself to forget about it. aha! i thought. i was not tempted! the devil did not get me to spend $35 on a new, signed hardcover!
a few weeks later, i ended up back at the bookstore for another event and then immediately folded when i saw that signed copy still sitting there. it took exactly two minutes of the same song and dance — cradling the book in my arms, reverently staring at the printed images inside, sighing dramatically to myself — before i manned (ha) up and hauled my ass to the check-out counter. i like to think that the universe got me to go to the event that i almost skipped just to make sure i bought this book.
i read half of sally’s first book a few years ago on audio (and definitely did not give it the attention it deserved, probably why i forgot to finish it), so i had some basic knowledge of her as a photographer, but in hindsight, i really did not know that much about her and her process. she’s known for her family photos — think Candy Cigarette — and her landscapes.
truthfully, i think the reason i was so called to this book was because it feels very archival. it’s mixed media, full of her photographs but also scans of her letters and handwriting, and something about it all reminded me of myself and my own process. it felt real and tangible in ways that other memoirs don’t. and when i sat down to actually read the words on the page, i felt like i was being given advice by a sweet, hilarious, rebellious mentor.
there’s a lot of insights in here, many of which are probably Typical and to be expected in an art self-help memoir, but what really made this so enjoyable and poignant was hearing from sally herself. she has such a strong voice, and it’s direct and to the point which is both candid and humorous. it really made me feel like i was talking with her over coffee.
the reason you read a book like this is not because it will definitely change your art practice. a lot of what she says is stuff i’m already doing or things i know i should be doing. she didn’t reveal some secret trick to photography, to having an art career, to being a better person. but something about reading the perspective of an older artist, someone who was born in the 50s (her birthday is the day before mine many many years before!) who lives a very analogue life as a result, really made me reconnect with myself and with art and with life. it recentered me knowing that this woman has lived decades as an artist, that she made mistakes and feels insignificant and struggles with art block, and yet she still is doing shit in her seventies. it made me think about my own life and art and practice, and it’s one of those rare books that seems to transcend time, like you can feel a much older version of you reaching back through the pages.
as a photographer, it was fascinating to dive into her processes, to see how she works and what she grew into, to read about her adventures (the story of her time in qatar was wild, and i GASPED at that one line)…in a lot of ways, i saw myself in her. in other ways, i marveled about how different we are as artists, as people, as two separate generations.
this is a book that will shape my thirties, but it’s also a book i hope to return to in the far off distant future, to see how my views have changed as i get older. to see if i ever figure out just what is at the core of my own art. i think i’m at a point in my life now where i am trying to break free of the hold that capitalism has had on my art, and i want to see just how far i can push it. or rather, just how much i can play with it. i think this book goes well with sontag’s on photography and even with brandon taylor’s minor black figures. the intersections between them are fascinating to explore.
i’ve been digging into personal analogue photography for the last five years, and it’s been so great getting to grow through that, but i did spend a lot of this book wondering at my writing art. there’s a chapter in here that’s about inactivity, about getting caught up in your life and Not making art for a while, and sally reiterated that sometimes those periods of inactivity are just as important as the periods when you’re making a lot of art. but i’ve spent so long not seeing my work as Art or “art” that now i’m not quite sure what i’m even doing. i know i am making art, i make art every single day, but what does it mean collectively? what is it saying? what am i building? questions to answer another day or in a lifetime.
sally is such a special person and a remarkable artist, and while i regret not getting to see her speak at the event i callously deleted from my email, i do not regret the $35 i spent at the bookstore to get her signed hardback (that i proceeded to scribble in and underline and utterly destroy…although i know she’d appreciate it).
"YOU ARE LOSING YOUR PAST EVERY TIME YOU DO IT THE EASY WAY"
a few weeks later, i ended up back at the bookstore for another event and then immediately folded when i saw that signed copy still sitting there. it took exactly two minutes of the same song and dance — cradling the book in my arms, reverently staring at the printed images inside, sighing dramatically to myself — before i manned (ha) up and hauled my ass to the check-out counter. i like to think that the universe got me to go to the event that i almost skipped just to make sure i bought this book.
i read half of sally’s first book a few years ago on audio (and definitely did not give it the attention it deserved, probably why i forgot to finish it), so i had some basic knowledge of her as a photographer, but in hindsight, i really did not know that much about her and her process. she’s known for her family photos — think Candy Cigarette — and her landscapes.
truthfully, i think the reason i was so called to this book was because it feels very archival. it’s mixed media, full of her photographs but also scans of her letters and handwriting, and something about it all reminded me of myself and my own process. it felt real and tangible in ways that other memoirs don’t. and when i sat down to actually read the words on the page, i felt like i was being given advice by a sweet, hilarious, rebellious mentor.
there’s a lot of insights in here, many of which are probably Typical and to be expected in an art self-help memoir, but what really made this so enjoyable and poignant was hearing from sally herself. she has such a strong voice, and it’s direct and to the point which is both candid and humorous. it really made me feel like i was talking with her over coffee.
the reason you read a book like this is not because it will definitely change your art practice. a lot of what she says is stuff i’m already doing or things i know i should be doing. she didn’t reveal some secret trick to photography, to having an art career, to being a better person. but something about reading the perspective of an older artist, someone who was born in the 50s (her birthday is the day before mine many many years before!) who lives a very analogue life as a result, really made me reconnect with myself and with art and with life. it recentered me knowing that this woman has lived decades as an artist, that she made mistakes and feels insignificant and struggles with art block, and yet she still is doing shit in her seventies. it made me think about my own life and art and practice, and it’s one of those rare books that seems to transcend time, like you can feel a much older version of you reaching back through the pages.
as a photographer, it was fascinating to dive into her processes, to see how she works and what she grew into, to read about her adventures (the story of her time in qatar was wild, and i GASPED at that one line)…in a lot of ways, i saw myself in her. in other ways, i marveled about how different we are as artists, as people, as two separate generations.
this is a book that will shape my thirties, but it’s also a book i hope to return to in the far off distant future, to see how my views have changed as i get older. to see if i ever figure out just what is at the core of my own art. i think i’m at a point in my life now where i am trying to break free of the hold that capitalism has had on my art, and i want to see just how far i can push it. or rather, just how much i can play with it. i think this book goes well with sontag’s on photography and even with brandon taylor’s minor black figures. the intersections between them are fascinating to explore.
i’ve been digging into personal analogue photography for the last five years, and it’s been so great getting to grow through that, but i did spend a lot of this book wondering at my writing art. there’s a chapter in here that’s about inactivity, about getting caught up in your life and Not making art for a while, and sally reiterated that sometimes those periods of inactivity are just as important as the periods when you’re making a lot of art. but i’ve spent so long not seeing my work as Art or “art” that now i’m not quite sure what i’m even doing. i know i am making art, i make art every single day, but what does it mean collectively? what is it saying? what am i building? questions to answer another day or in a lifetime.
sally is such a special person and a remarkable artist, and while i regret not getting to see her speak at the event i callously deleted from my email, i do not regret the $35 i spent at the bookstore to get her signed hardback (that i proceeded to scribble in and underline and utterly destroy…although i know she’d appreciate it).
"YOU ARE LOSING YOUR PAST EVERY TIME YOU DO IT THE EASY WAY"
September 6, 2025
This is a wonderful book. Sally Mann’s writing is nearly as evocative as her photography. I appreciated both her discussion and narration of her creative life as well as the archival finds included: photos of letters she wrote about her work and notes to herself, as well as photos of unpublished photographs that she had once rejected as parts of projects but now can see differently. I appreciated her frank discussions of some of her controversial works, such as the “Men” series in _A Thousand Crossings_. I look forward to seeing how others respond to this new book.
September 24, 2025
I love Sally Mann.
“Artists really get down to the business of making their art when it is more painful to not make it than to make it. And that’s saying something. Because sometimes making art can be excruciating. But the desire to create is a real thing, if elusive and unquantifiable, and as elemental as any other hunger. It is fueled by the life we are living, and, paradoxically, discomfort and impediments can up the octane. Not entirely unlike an addict, you crave the almost illicit high, the skydiving exhilaration of art-making. The degree to which you will go to satisfy your passion to create establishes the level of risk you face at not doing so.”
“Artists really get down to the business of making their art when it is more painful to not make it than to make it. And that’s saying something. Because sometimes making art can be excruciating. But the desire to create is a real thing, if elusive and unquantifiable, and as elemental as any other hunger. It is fueled by the life we are living, and, paradoxically, discomfort and impediments can up the octane. Not entirely unlike an addict, you crave the almost illicit high, the skydiving exhilaration of art-making. The degree to which you will go to satisfy your passion to create establishes the level of risk you face at not doing so.”
October 27, 2025
“For the artist, starting to make work is like spotting the first morel; once you see the first good picture, or find the first good words, they are everywhere. That first moment of radical seeing shines the essential light on all the rest of the creative landscape; images multiply, generate kinships and metaphor, become inevitable.”
I love Sally Mann. She’s a semi-local artist hero to me, and I loved her casual creative wisdom, dispensed here without affectation and with ample photography, revealing her driven yet humble approach to her craft. It didn’t arrest me as much as Hold Still did, but it was an approachable, encouraging perspective on the creative life.
October 8, 2025
"Artists really get down to the business of making their art when it is more painful to not make it than to make it. & that's saying something. Because sometimes making art can be excruciating. But the desire to create is a real thing, if elusive & unquantifiable, & as elemental as any other hunger. It is fueled by the life we are living, &, paradoxically, discomfort & impediments can up the octane. Not entirely unlike an addict, you crave the almost illicit high, the skydiving exhilaration of art-making. The degree to which you will go to satisfy your passion to create establishes the level of risk you face at not doing so."
oh so needed to read this & recommend it to all in creative fields (& more)!
have always loved Sally Mann for not only her photography, but her passion for reading & writing too.
probably need to dig Hold Still out from where it is currently in storage soon, & also get this book in print soon too!
oh so needed to read this & recommend it to all in creative fields (& more)!
have always loved Sally Mann for not only her photography, but her passion for reading & writing too.
probably need to dig Hold Still out from where it is currently in storage soon, & also get this book in print soon too!
September 14, 2025
extreme confirmation bias at work here bc I agree with so much of what she has to say, though im yet to be vindicated: full time work is good for art, the domestic and hyperlocal are better and truer inspirations than the exotic, taking long breaks from art making is good for you, chores build character, “intent is not enough” & you still have to make art & lots of it will be bad.
she is smart and unpretentious, and can admit two things can be true at the same time: she used to be broke and is not any more, she has benefited from privilege while not always having it. i liked the Patti Smith and Celia Paul memoirs but was suspicious of their atemporal spiritual practice which suggested neither had ever read an email, meanwhile Sally Mann is screenshotting her hard drives, finally, an artist w nerve! People rip her off all the time while missing the point, which is that the best material is right there in front of you. i don’t always agree but i did find this deeply affirming and relatable. recommended.
she is smart and unpretentious, and can admit two things can be true at the same time: she used to be broke and is not any more, she has benefited from privilege while not always having it. i liked the Patti Smith and Celia Paul memoirs but was suspicious of their atemporal spiritual practice which suggested neither had ever read an email, meanwhile Sally Mann is screenshotting her hard drives, finally, an artist w nerve! People rip her off all the time while missing the point, which is that the best material is right there in front of you. i don’t always agree but i did find this deeply affirming and relatable. recommended.
October 11, 2025
Wow! This book really hit me — an amazing ode to art and being an artist.
There were definitely moments where I felt like I was reading one of those male, cowboy writers like David Foster Wallace or Thomas Pynchon - occasionally tortured over-writing, at times deeply in love with her own rebel-artist voice, and simultaneously rooted in her own sense of superiority while at the same time buffeted by a debilitating lack of self-confidence. Mann is definitely human and flawed, of which she is absolutely aware and which she does not try to hide.
But mostly this book is incredibly engaging and thoughtful about what the artistic life can encompass, the ups and downs of it, as well as Mann’s convictions about what art is and what it’s for. I always looked forward to sitting down with this book - aggressively inspiring! If you’re an artist, it doesn’t matter what kind of art you make, read this book by Sally Mann — a powerhouse American photographer, an absolute straight shooter, a powerful voice reflecting on living the creative life.
There were definitely moments where I felt like I was reading one of those male, cowboy writers like David Foster Wallace or Thomas Pynchon - occasionally tortured over-writing, at times deeply in love with her own rebel-artist voice, and simultaneously rooted in her own sense of superiority while at the same time buffeted by a debilitating lack of self-confidence. Mann is definitely human and flawed, of which she is absolutely aware and which she does not try to hide.
But mostly this book is incredibly engaging and thoughtful about what the artistic life can encompass, the ups and downs of it, as well as Mann’s convictions about what art is and what it’s for. I always looked forward to sitting down with this book - aggressively inspiring! If you’re an artist, it doesn’t matter what kind of art you make, read this book by Sally Mann — a powerhouse American photographer, an absolute straight shooter, a powerful voice reflecting on living the creative life.
September 28, 2025
I knew from the start that this book would be different from "Hold Still". I had patches of being really engrossed in it and bits that were a bit of a drag. However, this is a very interesting book which mainly consists of the author's thoughts on becoming a photographer, which can be taken as advice should one wish. Examples of her work enrich these thoughts, as well as pictured excerpts from her old diaries.
This book might be motivating or not depending on your outlook on things, but in any case, it is worth reading to anyone practising in photography.
This book might be motivating or not depending on your outlook on things, but in any case, it is worth reading to anyone practising in photography.
October 10, 2025
thank you Orest Mercator
November 13, 2025
Art work and what it takes to be an artist. Love her sense of humor.
September 17, 2025
I am dazzled and mesmerised ughhhh
October 16, 2025
it's kind of weird that both times I've read a Sally Mann book it has been ~4 months after moving to Boston
November 11, 2025
It is so thrilling and gratifying to read of the struggles, faced in creating, suffering much the same but with lesser fulfillment. Written with extreme honesty, we follow the many adventures that sometimes led nowhere, while other times arrived at Nirvana. Numerous nods of admiration and respect along with shared tales of woe fill the pages.
Letter excerpts and images further evoke and prove sincerity. Mann opens herself to us with her writing, much as she does with her photography.
Letter excerpts and images further evoke and prove sincerity. Mann opens herself to us with her writing, much as she does with her photography.
August 4, 2025
Thanks to NetGalley and Particular Books for the advanced copy of this title in return for an honest review.
I'll be honest and start by saying I didn't know who Sally Mann was before reading this, and yet I was still interested in her perspective on art. And also, interestingly, I think photography is often not even considered 'art' because at a very basic level, people think of art as drawing or painting, whereas surely, just anyone can take a photo with their phone. And she's explored that nicely.
I liked how honest she was. If you're not in the art/creative world, you might think it's fairly easy, painting or drawing or writing or photographic, it's fun and quick and you have all this spare time. But the actual art part takes up a very small amount of time, the rest is filled with art admin, and I love that Sally hasn't shied away from this.
I think this book could have two types of readers. The ones who are actively involved in art, be it as a job or hobby, and those who think they don't have time or interest in art, or they think it's not worth doing. And they would all get something different out of it.
She is encouraging in this book. She hasn't hidden the bad bits of art and she hasn't overinflated the good, she's been honest. But it feels like you're having a chat with a friend. She doesn't put any kind of art down, she doesn't think one type of art is better or worse than another, she clearly just wants people to fall in love with any kind of art.
I think, honestly, that many people disregard art as important. For instance, during the pandemic, I know a lot of industries suffered and I am not belittling any of them, but things like galleries, theatres, cinemas, studios etc. they weren't seen as important. Now don't get me wrong, in this situation the health industry has to come first, emergency services, hospitals, pharmacies etc. as well as supermarkets. But we were so quick to disregard the arts as not important. But as well as being people's actual livelihood, it was completely ignored as a mood booster, to help mental health. And I love that through this book, Sally has so passionately spoken on behalf of the arts.
It's a mixture of prose, letters, photographs, journal entries etc - it's a real human story.
It had relatively short chapters which I liked - some are longer than others but they felt balanced on the whole, which was good as I loathe overly long chapters.
It wasn't perfect but I can't really say why, it was more of a feeling I had when reading it. But I did thoroughly enjoy it and I would highly recommend it.
I'll be honest and start by saying I didn't know who Sally Mann was before reading this, and yet I was still interested in her perspective on art. And also, interestingly, I think photography is often not even considered 'art' because at a very basic level, people think of art as drawing or painting, whereas surely, just anyone can take a photo with their phone. And she's explored that nicely.
I liked how honest she was. If you're not in the art/creative world, you might think it's fairly easy, painting or drawing or writing or photographic, it's fun and quick and you have all this spare time. But the actual art part takes up a very small amount of time, the rest is filled with art admin, and I love that Sally hasn't shied away from this.
I think this book could have two types of readers. The ones who are actively involved in art, be it as a job or hobby, and those who think they don't have time or interest in art, or they think it's not worth doing. And they would all get something different out of it.
She is encouraging in this book. She hasn't hidden the bad bits of art and she hasn't overinflated the good, she's been honest. But it feels like you're having a chat with a friend. She doesn't put any kind of art down, she doesn't think one type of art is better or worse than another, she clearly just wants people to fall in love with any kind of art.
I think, honestly, that many people disregard art as important. For instance, during the pandemic, I know a lot of industries suffered and I am not belittling any of them, but things like galleries, theatres, cinemas, studios etc. they weren't seen as important. Now don't get me wrong, in this situation the health industry has to come first, emergency services, hospitals, pharmacies etc. as well as supermarkets. But we were so quick to disregard the arts as not important. But as well as being people's actual livelihood, it was completely ignored as a mood booster, to help mental health. And I love that through this book, Sally has so passionately spoken on behalf of the arts.
It's a mixture of prose, letters, photographs, journal entries etc - it's a real human story.
It had relatively short chapters which I liked - some are longer than others but they felt balanced on the whole, which was good as I loathe overly long chapters.
It wasn't perfect but I can't really say why, it was more of a feeling I had when reading it. But I did thoroughly enjoy it and I would highly recommend it.
December 6, 2025
How much did I like this book? A lot, it was an easy 5 stars for me, although I wasn't super familiar with Mann’s photography before starting the book (I recognised some key pieces), I will be seeking it out more in future.
So the book is an amazing collection of letters mostly between Mann and Ted Orland (these were so good I ended up buying his book ‘Art & Fear’ after finishing this one!) and sort of memoir, of her creative practice over the years, a mix of rejections and successes, which were both equally inspiring. One of my favourite quotes that hit hard is “The measure of artistic success is not money; it is time. And you must regulate it…” which is something I need to remind myself every day. The whole book is full of witty observations along with snippets of wisdom that inspired me and left me in awe of this amazing woman who juggled making art with everything else life threw in her path.
I’d recommend this book to any creative - you don’t need to be a fan, another photographer or even an artist to get something from this book.
So the book is an amazing collection of letters mostly between Mann and Ted Orland (these were so good I ended up buying his book ‘Art & Fear’ after finishing this one!) and sort of memoir, of her creative practice over the years, a mix of rejections and successes, which were both equally inspiring. One of my favourite quotes that hit hard is “The measure of artistic success is not money; it is time. And you must regulate it…” which is something I need to remind myself every day. The whole book is full of witty observations along with snippets of wisdom that inspired me and left me in awe of this amazing woman who juggled making art with everything else life threw in her path.
I’d recommend this book to any creative - you don’t need to be a fan, another photographer or even an artist to get something from this book.
October 5, 2025
I’m an unrepentant admirer of Sally Mann’s photography, so don’t expect an even-handed review. The book is both an affirmation of my modest artistic output and a swift kick in my ass to keep working. About having patience with your work she says, “Time will tell, but you have to hang around to hear what it says, even if it says you’re a dumbass.” Face it all fearlessly. Trust your gut. Get closer. Keep shooting. It sent me back to her photos in “A Thousand Crossings.” I loved the book and will read it again.
November 3, 2025
I tore through this as an audiobook and liked it even more than Hold Still but I do think that the first half is just stronger writing than the last few chapters. I was especially interested to hear about how Mann handles the distractions of everyday life while still making her work a daily practice.
September 19, 2025
I thoroughly enjoyed it. I did choose the audio version read by Mann herself. It did take me a bit to get used to as I had to have the accompanying PDF handy. But after I got in the groove, I loved it. The book is very reminiscent of Anne Truitt’s Daybook. I think I will definitely come back to this book again.
April 4, 2025
Brilliant and ever so cool
September 19, 2025
She never disappoints. What an incredible book! Some of the best advice for young artists I’ve ever heard. What a gift this book is!
Read
September 18, 2025Review tk
October 4, 2025
This is read by Sally Mann and it felt like having a deep conversation with a close friend. I chose to listen to this and Sally begins the audiobook by encouraging you to download the supplemental pdf (which I did and was glad I did) even though she says she always listens to audiobooks while doing other things. She does urge you through the audiobook to pull up your downloaded pdf and who am I to ignore a directive from Sally Mann? This feels like part memoir and part description of the good and bad moments of a creative life (including tips like using diatomaceous earth mixed with honey to cure pin worms and then use the leftover earth for texture on pictures). I loved hearing more about her life but also her very commonsense view about making art (and she doesn’t laud any form of art over the other) and how difficult it can be. She states that all she wants to do in her remaining years is make good art (both quality and diversity). I loved her tone in this book which was light and personal (one example is when she is talking about something her neurosurgeon daughter said and in an aside Sally Mann says, “My daughter…that’s Dr. Mann to you…”, which cracked me up).
October 15, 2025
Hold Still made such an impression on me in art school, as Sally’s pictures remain to. But I don’t think I needed her methods and practice explained to me. Took away the magic, and made me feel judgmental towards her as a person, instead of inspired by her as an artist.
October 8, 2025
This book offers an intimate gaze—almost voyeuristic—into the life and mind of Sally Mann, the acclaimed photographer and writer. Through a patchwork of images, letters, jotted notes, and fragments of thought gathered over five decades, she opens the doors to her creative world, inviting us to wander its rooms.
Much of her art, as many know, has stirred controversy—especially her unflinching portraits of the nude human form, including her own children. These images, often unsettling, are also undeniably powerful. And while the work draws much of the spotlight, what lingers here is her voice—sharp, reflective, sometimes haunted by doubt—as she lays bare her process for the sake of other artists who may follow.
There are tender stories here too—snapshots of friendship, like those with Ted Orland, whose correspondence is lovingly preserved in reproduced letters, some typed, some handwritten, others keyed out in a fury of thought. He appears often in these pages—was he in the first volume too? Perhaps I’ll find out. She certainly doesn’t forget, or easily forgive.
Lexington, Virginia—her lifelong home—serves as both a cradle and a cage. Small though it is, it hums with history: Washington & Lee, VMI, and even Cy Twombly once called it home. It's not the forgotten corner of the South some might imagine, though it remains shaped by its shadows.
Mann's relentless questioning of her own ability can wear thin, but it also reveals the burden of a true working artist. Her discipline is clear: work, perseverance, order, repetition, focus, values—principles she upholds like sacred rites. She never attended college, yet her pages brim with the depth of someone profoundly well-read. Scattered throughout are quotations she’s gathered over the years—many paraphrased, all meaningful—like breadcrumbs of insight.
Now in her mid-seventies, Mann writes with a backward glance, re-examining old work with the eyes of someone older, maybe wiser. She wonders why some images made the cut and others were left behind. In the fraught climate of the 1990s, she even removed a photo—The Three Graces—from an exhibit before it opened. She chooses not to show it here either.
Curiously, she sidesteps much commentary on the photographs of her children—those haunting, controversial images that first placed her at the center of public debate. One hopes that conversation unfolded more directly in her earlier volume. Still, I smiled when she mused that she wishes she had been “more Helen Levitt, less Larry Clark” in those early years.
In the end, this is a book for the artist, not the armchair critic. Technical details are tucked among musings and memories, and her prose, like her photographs, is both precise and poetic. Mann reminds us that art is a life’s labor—not always comfortable, not always understood—but necessary. And for those who work in its service, or admire from afar, her voice is a lantern in the dark.
Much of her art, as many know, has stirred controversy—especially her unflinching portraits of the nude human form, including her own children. These images, often unsettling, are also undeniably powerful. And while the work draws much of the spotlight, what lingers here is her voice—sharp, reflective, sometimes haunted by doubt—as she lays bare her process for the sake of other artists who may follow.
There are tender stories here too—snapshots of friendship, like those with Ted Orland, whose correspondence is lovingly preserved in reproduced letters, some typed, some handwritten, others keyed out in a fury of thought. He appears often in these pages—was he in the first volume too? Perhaps I’ll find out. She certainly doesn’t forget, or easily forgive.
Lexington, Virginia—her lifelong home—serves as both a cradle and a cage. Small though it is, it hums with history: Washington & Lee, VMI, and even Cy Twombly once called it home. It's not the forgotten corner of the South some might imagine, though it remains shaped by its shadows.
Mann's relentless questioning of her own ability can wear thin, but it also reveals the burden of a true working artist. Her discipline is clear: work, perseverance, order, repetition, focus, values—principles she upholds like sacred rites. She never attended college, yet her pages brim with the depth of someone profoundly well-read. Scattered throughout are quotations she’s gathered over the years—many paraphrased, all meaningful—like breadcrumbs of insight.
Now in her mid-seventies, Mann writes with a backward glance, re-examining old work with the eyes of someone older, maybe wiser. She wonders why some images made the cut and others were left behind. In the fraught climate of the 1990s, she even removed a photo—The Three Graces—from an exhibit before it opened. She chooses not to show it here either.
Curiously, she sidesteps much commentary on the photographs of her children—those haunting, controversial images that first placed her at the center of public debate. One hopes that conversation unfolded more directly in her earlier volume. Still, I smiled when she mused that she wishes she had been “more Helen Levitt, less Larry Clark” in those early years.
In the end, this is a book for the artist, not the armchair critic. Technical details are tucked among musings and memories, and her prose, like her photographs, is both precise and poetic. Mann reminds us that art is a life’s labor—not always comfortable, not always understood—but necessary. And for those who work in its service, or admire from afar, her voice is a lantern in the dark.
December 24, 2025
I enjoyed this read. Some thoughts felt incomplete or not as clear as they could've. I thought her chapter on basically white fragility was interesting. She mentioned Dana Schutz's painting of Emmett Till and compared her experience photographing black people in the south. I'm not sure exactly what she was trying to absolve as she hinted at reducing a show of this collection from 12-8 or so. She didn't describe what she learned about them other than not feeling right about displaying black people for her own gain. Or inserting herself into their story, although it can't be as extreme as Dana. That does feel quite senseless and necessary. It feels like a twofold white exploitation and worse.
I could relate to some aspects more than others. I have always enjoyed a photographer being able to articulate her process and work so this kind of book feels rare and perhaps a type of book I would like to write myself some day.
Favorite Parts:
We work soul-sucking jobs to buy us the relief of a few hours of creativity, and it's not just us -- it was Philip Glass who worked as a plumber and once showed up to install a dishwasher for an astonished art critic, Robert Hughes; or the filmmaker Werner Herzog, who worked night shifts in a steel factory to fund his films; or William Carlos Williams, a physician who wrote poems on his prescription pads in between seeing patients."
You say Yes even when you know, to your very bones, that you can't do what is expdected of you and that you are in way over your head. you say Yes because you will grow in ways you could never expect. And you might just luck out and get a photograph despite everything.
I still found something to say. Just as I always do, just as I believe I never will.
I was determined to get to the Mississippi where I knew all the good pictures would be, and maybe this is just another instance of an unyielding expectation that gets in the way of a manifold vision. Rather than actually looking out the window at the ravishing Delta landscape, I single-mindedly pursued the evocative riverine image I believed was, mirage-like, just over the horizon, stopping to pull out the camera only occasionally when a plaintive, mongrelly tree or some irresistible spectacle of kudzu would siren-song me out of the Suburban.
Most creative people need a period, or a lifetime in some cases, of unfettered artistic exploration.
But, in my case, despite being an unregenerate rebel most of my young life, I began to feel what Wordsworth called the "weight of liberty." Without quite realizing it, I began to give myself assignments; parameters within which to work. Like using just one shutter speed or one lens, or only taking pictures that had chiffon in them...
To paraphrase, indeed mangle, my hero Flaubert, you should be regular and orderly in your life, so you can write like an avenging angel.
I could relate to some aspects more than others. I have always enjoyed a photographer being able to articulate her process and work so this kind of book feels rare and perhaps a type of book I would like to write myself some day.
Favorite Parts:
We work soul-sucking jobs to buy us the relief of a few hours of creativity, and it's not just us -- it was Philip Glass who worked as a plumber and once showed up to install a dishwasher for an astonished art critic, Robert Hughes; or the filmmaker Werner Herzog, who worked night shifts in a steel factory to fund his films; or William Carlos Williams, a physician who wrote poems on his prescription pads in between seeing patients."
You say Yes even when you know, to your very bones, that you can't do what is expdected of you and that you are in way over your head. you say Yes because you will grow in ways you could never expect. And you might just luck out and get a photograph despite everything.
I still found something to say. Just as I always do, just as I believe I never will.
I was determined to get to the Mississippi where I knew all the good pictures would be, and maybe this is just another instance of an unyielding expectation that gets in the way of a manifold vision. Rather than actually looking out the window at the ravishing Delta landscape, I single-mindedly pursued the evocative riverine image I believed was, mirage-like, just over the horizon, stopping to pull out the camera only occasionally when a plaintive, mongrelly tree or some irresistible spectacle of kudzu would siren-song me out of the Suburban.
Most creative people need a period, or a lifetime in some cases, of unfettered artistic exploration.
But, in my case, despite being an unregenerate rebel most of my young life, I began to feel what Wordsworth called the "weight of liberty." Without quite realizing it, I began to give myself assignments; parameters within which to work. Like using just one shutter speed or one lens, or only taking pictures that had chiffon in them...
To paraphrase, indeed mangle, my hero Flaubert, you should be regular and orderly in your life, so you can write like an avenging angel.
September 12, 2025
My thanks to NetGalley and Abrams for an eARC of this title. A little hard to read in that format, and no color photos (color is promised in the actual publication in the publisher's info), but not that difficult.
This is a bit of a continuation of her 2015 memoir "Hold Still", which I have not read (but just scored an ebook format of it for $3 on Amazon!). That is about 500 pp, this is closer to 275.
The title explains it all - Art is work. While a memoir, its expressed major purpose is to give ideas to up and coming (and wannabe) artists on what it takes to become and artist, and to "succeed" (whatever that may mean to each of them). Work.
Some good personal stories in here as well. I wonder if close friend Ted was in the first volume - well, I'll find out! Andm she holds a good grudge!
Reproductions of not only some of her photos (some previously not shown), but of handwritten, typed and keyed letters (most to close friend Ted Orland, who she met when young at an Ansel Adams class).
Her constant berating and questioning of her own talent gets to be a bit much. And while Lexington, VA (her life long home) may be small, it is the home to VMI and Washington& Lee U - so it is not like it is located in the complete boondocks of the South. Cy Twombly also lived there.
I can't remember the final list of all a young artist should do, but work, perseverance, order, repetition, focus, values are among them.
She keeps a book of quotes that she found important during times of her life, and it is enjoyable to read them (often paraphrased) throughout the text. She chose to become a photographer on her own, and through experience, and did not go to college - but is extremely well read.
And, now in her mid 70's, nice to hear her talk about revisiting some of her photographs, and wonder why she used some, and not others. And also, in the '90's, during the beginning phase of The Cultural Wars, she chose to take a photo down from a show ready to open in NY ("The Three Graces" - which she chooses not to reproduce here either). She does not address her photos of her children that she is most famous for, some which are nudes from when they were underaged. But I imagine (hope) that is dealt with in her earlier volume. And I do enjoy her comment that she wishes that at one point early in her career she had been more Helen Levitt, and less Larry Clark!
Yes, an exteremly talented photographer (and we do get some technical speak in here as well), and a very talented writer as well.
For young artists, and for those of us who enjoy her work, and are looking for the perspective of a *working* artist.
4 out of 5.
This is a bit of a continuation of her 2015 memoir "Hold Still", which I have not read (but just scored an ebook format of it for $3 on Amazon!). That is about 500 pp, this is closer to 275.
The title explains it all - Art is work. While a memoir, its expressed major purpose is to give ideas to up and coming (and wannabe) artists on what it takes to become and artist, and to "succeed" (whatever that may mean to each of them). Work.
Some good personal stories in here as well. I wonder if close friend Ted was in the first volume - well, I'll find out! Andm she holds a good grudge!
Reproductions of not only some of her photos (some previously not shown), but of handwritten, typed and keyed letters (most to close friend Ted Orland, who she met when young at an Ansel Adams class).
Her constant berating and questioning of her own talent gets to be a bit much. And while Lexington, VA (her life long home) may be small, it is the home to VMI and Washington& Lee U - so it is not like it is located in the complete boondocks of the South. Cy Twombly also lived there.
I can't remember the final list of all a young artist should do, but work, perseverance, order, repetition, focus, values are among them.
She keeps a book of quotes that she found important during times of her life, and it is enjoyable to read them (often paraphrased) throughout the text. She chose to become a photographer on her own, and through experience, and did not go to college - but is extremely well read.
And, now in her mid 70's, nice to hear her talk about revisiting some of her photographs, and wonder why she used some, and not others. And also, in the '90's, during the beginning phase of The Cultural Wars, she chose to take a photo down from a show ready to open in NY ("The Three Graces" - which she chooses not to reproduce here either). She does not address her photos of her children that she is most famous for, some which are nudes from when they were underaged. But I imagine (hope) that is dealt with in her earlier volume. And I do enjoy her comment that she wishes that at one point early in her career she had been more Helen Levitt, and less Larry Clark!
Yes, an exteremly talented photographer (and we do get some technical speak in here as well), and a very talented writer as well.
For young artists, and for those of us who enjoy her work, and are looking for the perspective of a *working* artist.
4 out of 5.
October 19, 2025
Sally Mann’s work is divisive by nature and design, so I’ll say for starters that I, for one, love Sally Mann. Her photos of her children and farm from her Immediate Family series are still some of the most beautiful images I’ve ever seen, and while I don’t love ALL of her work (it’s hard to imagine putting images from her Body Farm series on my coffee table…), I appreciate that she makes all of it.
In Art Work, as a follow-up to what she began writing in Hold Still, Mann lays bare that her successes are the result of hard work—it says so right in the title of the book—with more hard work on top. Sure, there’s luck too—fortuitous seat-mates on airplanes, eccentric artists and collectors who happen to be Appalachian neighbors, the right light at the right moment, etc.—but Mann makes clear that, for the most part, if you work and work and work for decades, you’re bound to get some good luck and make some good work now and again.
I especially appreciate the ways in which Mann dispels the idea that her art comes from some inner well of genius and vision; to hammer home the point of art as work, she shows us many examples of failed photographs, and the many, many tries it took her to capture some of her most iconic images (Candy Cigarette, etc.), and the many times she tried to take a particular photo that never worked out at all (the 50+ dead duck photos). I think it’s amazingly down-to-earth for an established artist to publicly publish her failures; and I respect Sally Mann very much as an artist, a writer, a public figure, and a model for growing older and being generative with new generations of artists.
In Art Work, as a follow-up to what she began writing in Hold Still, Mann lays bare that her successes are the result of hard work—it says so right in the title of the book—with more hard work on top. Sure, there’s luck too—fortuitous seat-mates on airplanes, eccentric artists and collectors who happen to be Appalachian neighbors, the right light at the right moment, etc.—but Mann makes clear that, for the most part, if you work and work and work for decades, you’re bound to get some good luck and make some good work now and again.
I especially appreciate the ways in which Mann dispels the idea that her art comes from some inner well of genius and vision; to hammer home the point of art as work, she shows us many examples of failed photographs, and the many, many tries it took her to capture some of her most iconic images (Candy Cigarette, etc.), and the many times she tried to take a particular photo that never worked out at all (the 50+ dead duck photos). I think it’s amazingly down-to-earth for an established artist to publicly publish her failures; and I respect Sally Mann very much as an artist, a writer, a public figure, and a model for growing older and being generative with new generations of artists.
September 23, 2025
Thanks to NetGalley for early access to this book.
I am not familiar with Sally Mann or her work, but I own her other book and really like art biographies. Hold Still is mentioned a few times but there is absolutely not a necessity to have read it before reading this. It is an exploration into the work Mann has done over the years, what it means to be an artist and how passion and determination can get you across the finish line.
I love biographies by artistic people who lived in a period where you could just show up and meet people, where making art with passion was paramount and everything didn't have to be perfect (Just Kids by Patti Smith & A Thousand Threads by Neneh Cherry). In a world where we have photoshop, AI, melodyne, autotune etc there is something so refreshing reading about someone who puts the hard work in, makes mistakes, adapts and fails. It feels almost saddening that mine and future generations live under such a burden of perfection rather than truth.
Mann doesn't take herself too seriously and reflects honestly on her own work and her intentions (and if intentions matter). I wanted to share several passages from this book with friends who work in the arts, as it amasses a lifetime worth of knowledge and admiration for art in all forms.
I am not familiar with Sally Mann or her work, but I own her other book and really like art biographies. Hold Still is mentioned a few times but there is absolutely not a necessity to have read it before reading this. It is an exploration into the work Mann has done over the years, what it means to be an artist and how passion and determination can get you across the finish line.
I love biographies by artistic people who lived in a period where you could just show up and meet people, where making art with passion was paramount and everything didn't have to be perfect (Just Kids by Patti Smith & A Thousand Threads by Neneh Cherry). In a world where we have photoshop, AI, melodyne, autotune etc there is something so refreshing reading about someone who puts the hard work in, makes mistakes, adapts and fails. It feels almost saddening that mine and future generations live under such a burden of perfection rather than truth.
Mann doesn't take herself too seriously and reflects honestly on her own work and her intentions (and if intentions matter). I wanted to share several passages from this book with friends who work in the arts, as it amasses a lifetime worth of knowledge and admiration for art in all forms.
November 3, 2025
Ebook.
Reflections from a renowned photographer on her life as an artist. I like Sally Mann a lot but I found this hard to get fully immersed in because I had to keep pausing to look up the meaning of a word or a phrase. It just came off as pretentious despite saying art is for everyone and all life is art.
—
“Your sincere emotions matter, and not just to you. It is not sentimental or romantic to want to share your feelings. Or, maybe it is, but do it anyway; the worst that can happen is that you invite the condescension of a supposedly sophisticated audience. Be true. Despite the platitudinous precipice on which they teeter, embrace without irony or apology the concepts of beauty, hope, joy, honesty, and, always, affection. Leave your fearless trace, dove sta memoria, because beauty matters. As an artist, you are a sensitive filament picking up unique frequencies and making the work they evoke. And if you are lucky, when that work is released, it will find untingled nerve endings out in the world and lustily tingle them, manifesting indelible truths in which someone will one day find beauty. That is our job.”
Reflections from a renowned photographer on her life as an artist. I like Sally Mann a lot but I found this hard to get fully immersed in because I had to keep pausing to look up the meaning of a word or a phrase. It just came off as pretentious despite saying art is for everyone and all life is art.
—
“Your sincere emotions matter, and not just to you. It is not sentimental or romantic to want to share your feelings. Or, maybe it is, but do it anyway; the worst that can happen is that you invite the condescension of a supposedly sophisticated audience. Be true. Despite the platitudinous precipice on which they teeter, embrace without irony or apology the concepts of beauty, hope, joy, honesty, and, always, affection. Leave your fearless trace, dove sta memoria, because beauty matters. As an artist, you are a sensitive filament picking up unique frequencies and making the work they evoke. And if you are lucky, when that work is released, it will find untingled nerve endings out in the world and lustily tingle them, manifesting indelible truths in which someone will one day find beauty. That is our job.”
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