I watched "What Remains: The Life and Work of Sally Mann," a documentary about the Virginia-based photographer who is most famous for her controversial portraits of her children. At the beginning of the film, she talks about that widely-acclaimed body of work, how one problematic consequence of it is that it challenges her to create better work, and whether or not she has done that remains her unanswerable question. At one point, we watch her, having been profoundly effected by a convict who killed himself on her property, photograph the bodies of the dead who lie scattered in a Tennessee field for the purposes of forensic study. These days, I have an itchy trigger finger when it comes to the camera. I would like to shoot again in Porn Valley. When I do, who are you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?
