They’re pictures of seemingly ordinary musings of children outdoors on a secluded, rural farm, but they include one thing that is again stoking controversy across the country: nudity.
Sally Mann, the Lexington-based photographer named America’s best photographer by Time magazine in 2001, had five pictures from her “Immediate Families” collection on display at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, in Texas.
The photos were taken down after at least four of them were seized by the Fort Worth Police Department in early January.
The photos show bare skin and genitalia of Mann’s then-elementary school-aged children, constituting them as child pornography in the eyes of some local officials, while national art groups argue that the seizure was illegal.
“It is ludicrous to suggest a prominent and influential outlet like Time named Mann America’s best photographer in large part for a collection of child pornography, and her children, now adults, have rejected that characterization of her work,” attorneys with the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, the National Coalition Against Censorship and the American Civil Liberties Union of Texas wrote in a letter to Neil Noakes, chief of the Fort Worth Police Department.
“All of which reinforces that the photos the Department seized are constitutionally protected expression, not child pornography,” the letter states.
The photos, distributed nationally in 1991 via Mann’s book on the collection, have consistently carried controversy following their release. The headline of a 1992 article in The New Times Magazine described the work as “disturbing.”
But Mann’s skill with her old-school 8×10 camera is worthy of sharing, according to those in the art field. Seizing the photos has raised broader questions on the openness to diverse thought, similar to actions to ban books from libraries.
“Criminal investigations of art can put heavy pressure on the arts to self-censor,” said Aaron Terr, director of public advocacy at the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression. “That chilling effect is a loss for artistic and creative freedom.”
Stephanie Benassi, an assistant professor in the School of Art at George Mason University, said it’s like when Andrea Serrano’s “Piss Christ,” a photograph of a small plastic crucifix submerged in a tank of his urine, is on display and gets defaced.
“Every time this kind of thing goes on, to me, I find it to be, again, an attempt continuously to sow mistrust,” Benassi said. “You know, how dare we fund these institutions? Look what they’re showing, look what they’re doing. There’s a mistrust and expertise across the board in every sort of field … in science, a mistrust in education, a mistrust in librarians, a mistrust in curators, a mistrust in professors, anything that requires sort of expertise. There’s an attempt to devalue it.”
Mann declined to comment for this article.
Mann’s background
Born in Lexington in 1951, Mann grew up on the farm her parents relocated to after living in Louisiana. She attended Hollins College, now Hollins University, to study creative writing.
Along with “Immediate Family,” Mann published several books that included landscapes in “Deep South” and bodies left to decay in Kentucky for scientific research in “What Remains.” Other works showcase the struggle of her husband, Lexington lawyer Larry Mann, dealing with muscular dystrophy in “Proud Flesh.”
Time’s 2001 recognition highlighted “Immediate Family” as showing “spontaneous and carefully arranged moments of childhood.”
“What the outraged critics of her child nudes failed to grant was the patent devotion involved throughout the project and the delighted complicity of her son and daughters in so many of the solemn or playful events.” Reynolds Price wrote for the magazine. “No other collection of family photographs is remotely like it, in both its naked candor and the fervor of its maternal curiosity and care.”
Mann is represented by the Gagosian gallery, which features exhibits of artists in New York and around the globe. Her work has been on display throughout the country, including at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in 2010.
“VMFA celebrates the creativity and talent of important artists from Virginia and around the world, and we are proud to include work by Virginia-native Mann in our collection,” a spokesperson said. “The 2010 exhibition focused on Mann’s photography, The Flesh and the Spirit, was both very popular and well received.”
The controversy
The Gagosian gallery loaned to the museum in Fort Worth the five photos — “Popsicle Drips,” “The Perfect Tomato,” “The Wet Bed,” “Another Cracker” and “Cereus” — as part of an exhibit called “Diaries of Home” featuring several artists.
The exhibit ran Nov. 17 to Feb. 2.
“Popsicle Drops” shows her naked son with drips of a popsicle surrounding his genitals. “The Perfect Tomato” depicts her naked daughter performing a dance move on a picnic table.
“The photographers presented in Diaries of Home show us the dynamics of both biological and constructed families; for example, Sally Mann takes up her three children as subject matter in lush portraits that are intimate and compelling,” the museum’s description of the exhibit reads.
At the end of December, The Dallas Express, an online news site, published an article airing concerns from community members and continued outcry from a county judge and the chairman of the county’s Republican Party over the content of the exhibit.
Publicity mounted. By Jan. 7, the five photographs had been removed from the show, with the museum stating that an inquiry had been made into four of them, according to reporting by Glasstire, an online arts magazine.
The next day, Tarrant County Judge Tim O’Hare posted on X: “The images of children reported in the media at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth are deeply disturbing. Sexual exploitation of a minor, including under the guise of ‘art,’ should never be tolerated.
“I have full confidence in law enforcement to thoroughly investigate this matter and take appropriate action,” O’Hare posted. “I will always be committed to protecting the most vulnerable members of society, our children.”
A museum spokesperson did not respond to requests for comment.
First Amendment questions
The letter from the national arts groups alleging illegal censoring of Mann’s photographs was sent to the department’s police chief on Feb. 19.
The U.S. Supreme Court case Miller v. California created a three-pronged test to identify what is “obscene,” which is not protected by the First Amendment.
“Because the photos do not appeal to the prurient interest, do not depict sexual conduct, and have serious artistic value, they do not meet any of the Miller prongs,” the groups wrote, and “cannot be not legally obscene.”
And, while showing nudity, the photographs do not constitute child pornography under Texas law, the letter continues, since they don’t meet the definition of being a “lewd exhibition” — the intent of the photos is not to “excite lustfulness or sexual stimulation in the viewer.”
As Mann described in her memoir, the groups argue, her intent was to photograph her children, “their triumphs, confusion, harmony and isolation, as well as the hardships that tend to befall children — bruises, vomit, bloody noses, wet beds — all of it.”
Court rulings and laws regarding pictures of naked children not engaged in sexual activity have protected the photograph of the child known as the “napalm girl,” the groups argue. That world-famous photo shows Phan Thị Kim Phúc OOnt, a naked 9-year-old, fleeing a napalm attack during the Vietnam War.
“Like much art, it communicates ideas and invites viewers to reflect on the human experience,” the groups said about Mann’s photography.
Further, because of the strict protections under the First Amendment, an “adversarial hearing” where both parties can present their case needs to happen before speech can be restricted, Terr said. That didn’t happen, he said.
“When you consider all that information, that does suggest at least one of the purposes here was to remove the photos from public display,” Terr said.
It’s ridiculous to claim that any depiction of a naked child is pornographic, he said. “No one would seriously claim that a parent taking an innocent photo of their child taking a bath is pornographic. That same obvious distinction applies here.”
The warrant and records department at the Tarrant County Courthouse referred questions on documentation of the seizure to the Fort Worth Police Department. The police department’s records department had no publicly available record for anything under the museum’s address or Sally Mann’s name.
The police department did not respond to an email and phone message requesting comment. Cardinal News filed a records request with the city of Fort Worth, but Assistant City Attorney Amarna Muhammad responded with a letter stating that the records are being withheld for several reasons, including the threat of interference “with a pending criminal proceeding” and the assertion that the records involve “alleged or suspected abuse or neglect of a child.”
The city said it is seeking an opinion from the office of Attorney General Ken Paxton after receiving a separate records request similar to what Cardinal News submitted.
Context of the art
In 2015, following the publishing of Mann’s memoir, which included discussion of the “Immediate Family” collection and impact, commenters on a New York Times Magazine online reprint of the memoir left mixed reaction, showing support for her decision, but also discomfort.
“Until I saw the photo of her naked daughter in white skates, I was comfortable with her artistic and lovely photographs,” commented one reader. “But that photo made me feel decidedly uncomfortable, and I immediately began to question her veracity.”
Another wrote: “I guess I was clueless about the broader debate, as I just remember thinking that these were beautiful photographs of children, of childhood, and of a way of life — a way of growing up — that seemed almost magical in its immersion in nature, family, and place.
“I’m sorry to read of the troubles that Ms. Mann and her family went through merely as a consequence of her art.”
Mann involved the children in the set-making for the photographs, according to her memoir. She also showed the photographs to the children, who were allowed to remove any pictures they didn’t want published in the book.
“When I stepped behind the camera and my kids stepped in front of it, I was a photographer and they were actors, and we were making a photograph together,” she wrote in her memoir.
“The fact is that these are not my children; they are figures on silvery paper slivered out of time,” she continued. “They represent my children at a fraction of a second on one particular afternoon with infinite variables of light, expression, posture, muscle tension, mood, wind and shade. These are not my children at all; these are children in a photograph.”
Mann’s photographs “defy nostalgia” because they’re not trying to be “sentimental,” and simply capture children in the moment, Benassi said. Also noteworthy is the type of camera she used: the 8×10, which resembles an accordion that stands on a tripod and places the photographer behind it draped under a sheet because of the film’s sensitivity to light.
“This is not a camera that Dad or Grandpa would use. What that does is it slows everything down. It slows the photographer down, and it slows whatever’s happening in front of the camera down,” Benassi said. “It’s shot one at a time. What you get from the camera is something that is just sort of undefinable. When you see it, it’s like clearer than clear.”
The VMFA, which said it “concurs” with the Association of Art Museum Directors’ statement that “condemns any effort to censor the presentation” of Mann’s works, commented on her method in its statement to Cardinal News.
“In her series ‘Immediate Family,’ Mann used a large format camera to capture images that challenge conventional stereotypes of childhood, instead offering a lush and psychologically complex vision of family and the process of growing up from the perspectives of both the child and the parent,” a museum spokesperson said.
Benassi went to the VMFA’s exhibit of Mann’s work, saying it was “really harsh … but I don’t regret seeing it.”
“Life isn’t painless. There are ugly compounds,” Benassi said. “And the VMFA also did responsible curating. I remember distinctly there were signs [saying] ‘Not suitable for all viewers.’ It’s not like they’re saying, ‘We’re trying to shock you.’ They’re making it very clear.”
Issue going forward
Benassi, who lives in rural Warren County, said she finds what happened in Texas is similar to what she has seen in her own community.
The Warren County Board of Supervisors recently moved to no longer fund the Samuels Public Library, after months of debate over management and concern about exposing children to LGBTQIA+ material.
“Where do they stop pulling things? The sign of a healthy democracy is that our museums and our libraries and our institutions of study, our universities and colleges, are not propaganda machines,” Benassi said, adding that places have made negotiations by giving notice of explicit content.
“They’re places of enlightened liberal thought and yes, things contradict each other,” Benassi said. “You can have these contradictions. … Anytime there’s a wing or a group of people that want to have total control of the content, that can be really scary.”
Nationally, colleges and universities have been grappling with free speech allowances getting tested by art displays, like at Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota, said Terr. There, sculptures depicted women wearing a niqab and hijab with exposed body parts or visible lingerie, providing commentary on gender, religious and political power.
Some students who were offended circulated a petition seeking to take it down. The school responded by putting up curtains over the work, according to reporting from the Sahan Journal, an online news outlet. The curtains were taken down at the request of the artists, and a content warning label was posted.
While noting that some activity on college campuses, like vandalism, is unprotected, Terr said that gets conflated with acts of free speech, and the silencing of displays creates that chilling effect.
“I can easily imagine another museum [saying], ‘Let’s not exhibit these controversial pieces to avoid potential attention’ even if they know that it’s constitutionally protected artwork.”