Mark Berndt
Anyone who’s spent even a short time here understands why this site is around and why I spend so much time bringing these interviews to the community. Education. That’s pretty much the give and take of it. I wanted to provide an ongoing resource to photographers and photographic artists that help guide them through the thoughts and efforts of those around them and before them. That is why this latest interview with Mark Berndt fits this idea as well as could possibly be. Mark is talented, humble, thoughtful in his responses, and absolutely thorough in portraying his life thus far in the visual arts. What’s even better is that he doesn’t pull any punches and tells it like it is. This is a challenging and often thankless profession. It can get you down and take you out in no time at all if you aren’t careful. Thankfully, Mark has driven this road at breakneck speeds to deliver his photographs and films, and provided, from what I see, a roadmap worthy of discussion and investigation. He has a no-nonsense approach to working that makes the complicated look simple and the simple look incredible. There are no “absolute” answers for any of this, but he does tell a tale and put forth some ideas worth considering in how to excel at your craft. And isn’t that something we are all interested in?
In full disclosure, Mark and I have had a great past working relationship that quickly turned into a bonafide friendship that has gone on for many years. He’s someone I can go to for knowledge and advice and hopefully be there for him in a reciprocal fashion if need be. Mutual respect, and for that, I am incredibly thankful. Honestly, this interview is long overdue. So that’s is why it comes with great pleasure that I can share the words and photographs from someone I would label as a “photographer’s photographer.” I’ve got other nice things to say about him as an educator and so on, but I can relay those to you another day. Ah, yes, I can see him now, upon reading this, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He’s one humble dude that you are going to learn a lot from. And that’s always the bottom line.
Bio -
Mark Berndt is a self-taught photographer, film director, graphic/web/book designer, and master digital printmaker. His images celebrate people and the circumstances of life. Communication skills acquired from 40+ years in film, photography, and advertising, inform and infuse his work.
Mark has taught at Art Center College of Design (Pasadena, CA), the Kansas City Art Institute, and the Julia Dean Photo Workshops (Los Angeles). He currently teaches photography and digital imaging in private workshops and one-on-one consultation, in person and online.
Mark’s professional affiliations include having served on the Board of Directors of ASMP‘s (American Society of Media Professionals) Los Angeles chapter, as a board member and President of ASMP’s KC-Midwest Chapter, and on the founding board of KC Society for Contemporary Photography. He is a member of the New Mexico chapter of ASMP and has been a director member of the DGA (Director’s Guild of America) since 1987. He is a co-founder, with Pilar Law, of Edition One Gallery, Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Interview -
Michael Kirchoff: Once upon a time, there was a young, eager, wide-eyed Mark Berndt that discovered a way to make images that spoke to him and filled his soul. When did that occur and was there any one person or event that set you on that path?
Mark Berndt: Two people really. My Dad inadvertently created my interest in photography when I was really little - maybe 3 or 4. He kept his personal treasures - his harmonica, poker chips, cameras – in a cabinet in the dining room with a door that stuck so tight that he was the only one who could open it. On special occasions, he would bring out the Bell & Howell 8mm camera, or the Brownie Hawkeye, or my favorite, his Argus A2 35mm camera. I just loved the look of it and listening to the shutter click. That’s where my interest in photography started, but it was my Mom who encouraged me with books like Gordon Parks’ A Poet and His Camera, Martin J. Dain’s Faulkner’s County, Ernst Haas’ The Creation.
MK: Throughout your years as a commercial photographer you developed a very personal style of storytelling within your work. Later, you brought that same vision to light in the form of directing commercials for various clients. Do you feel that the shift from still to motion was an informed and seamless one, or was there a new set of parameters that needed you to adapt and change how you brought you visuals to life? Also, was your personal work ever brought into the fold?
MB: Unfortunately, I had no grand plan for my career. It ended up being stills, then film, then design, web, and back to stills. My interest in photography went commercial when I was 12 or 13 when my brother and I built our first darkroom and started enlarging neighbors’ pictures to poster size in our basement. Later, an artist friend introduced me to an agency art director in Kansas City who gave me my first advertising assignment. After several years of that I fell into the film business with a local TV commercial production company and learned the film business there, starting as a “gopher” and learning casting, location scouting, bidding, sound recording, assistant camera, and eventually editorial, mixing, video transfer and post. The owner was a director/cameraman so although my photography background was valuable I didn’t do any cinematography. When I started directing on my own, first in Milwaukee then Chicago and LA, I worked with cinematographers to have the time to concentrate on directing actors and dealing with clients. I got to collaborate with some really talented DPs on my film projects, and often operated the camera. A short film that I shot and directed to try to get new work as a director/cameraman didn’t really do the trick.
My return to stills was intentional. I wanted to be able to make images without a crew of 75, and I intentionally pursued clients outside of advertising - in medicine, education, music, and the arts. My experience in the film business had a big influence on my stills work. For me, it’s all about images and storytelling, and stills gave me greater control over the final image.
Commissioned Work: People
MK: We’ve known each other for many years and worked together for several of them. One of the first things I ever noticed and learned about you and your photographic practice was not simply that you were an early adopter of using digital technology in your work, but you were, and still are, someone who makes photographs that look nothing like what others do digitally. What I mean to say is, the tools you use primarily are all tech-based, like digital cameras and Photoshop, for instance. Obviously, you had a background in working with film and in the darkroom, and you seem to be one of those rare photographers that made the transition without losing the art of photography along the way. Your images, no matter how created, have always contained a mood, feeling, and artistry that speak to people on a deeper level. I’m going about this the long way around, I know, but I’m wondering what that transition was like for you in the beginning? Was there a steep learning curve to get to where you are today?
MB: Wow - those are high compliments coming from you, Michael. Thank you. Like so many things for me, the transition from film to digital just kind of happened. I sold my B&W darkroom - 8x10 Beseler, Jobo ATL-2, 20x24 trays & print washer - in 1994 and jumped into digital photography with a MAC 8500, an Agfa Arcus II scanner, and Photoshop 3 shooting and scanning film before I got my first sub-megapixel Olympus digital camera. There weren’t a lot of books/courses in those days so I’m pretty much self-taught.
I worked in film and then transitioned to digital, and I carried an expectation of what a photograph should look like based on a film images - color, saturation, contrast, grain. That subconsciously informs my work in digital, whether scanned film or digital originals. I think years of push/pull processing in 1/3’s of stops, using specialized developers, and dodging and burning a print in the darkroom, translate to an understanding of how subtle manipulation can explode the potential of an image. Shooting film I often worked in post to compensate for characteristics built into our images by Kodak’s or Fuji’s engineers, where now with RAW files I’m able to basically create my own film for each image after I’ve taken the picture, and truly take control of my photography.
I was no Jerry Uelsmann in the darkroom, but I’ve mastered Photoshop for my needs and it allows me to create “perfect” images that don’t appear perfect; that retains the heart and soul and sense of happenstance and authenticity that help me tell a believable and honest story. Clients often ask me to deliver images straight out of the camera, and when I say “No, I’m going to work on them first,” they ask what I’m going to do to them in post. “Things you can’t see,” I tell them. The power of enhancement, to me, is the difference between a booklet of prints from the drugstore when I was starting out, and a successful professional image. The transition to digital was for me an exciting and natural evolution that has made me a better and smarter photographer.
MK: Do you see a difference between how you approach your personal work versus the images you create for others or do you feel they inform and inspire one another?
MB: I have finally learned that people, in general, don’t ‘get’ my personal work - at least not to the extent I wish they would. Commercial work is about solving a client’s problems and delivering visual solutions. That’s something I’ve always understood. My personal vision is always present on a job, but I learned early the difference between “art” and “commercial art”. As a professional, I try to bring my personal style into a project, but it will always be tempered by the needs of the job at hand. Conversely, I think it’s imperative that truly ‘personal work’ exist without any external influences - as true to your vision as possible.
Commissioned Work: Montebello Police
MK: Was there ever a specific job or event that became a turning point of success in your career as a professional photographer or filmmaker?
MB: “Success” - that’s a difficult concept for me. I think success is truly a moving target, and I don’t put much stock in awards and accolades as validation of it. Each well-received project is a success. I suppose running my own company was a success, being signed as a director in LA, joining the DGA, working with prestigious clients, all were maybe turning points. But in these businesses (photography and film) you’re only as good as your last project, and if success means I paid my bills all those years doing the work I love, then I guess I achieved some level of success. The fact that it’s always just out of reach is what keeps me going.
MK: What mental preparations do you make to execute a particular shoot or project that you are excited about? Do you ever look back and find that nothing you had planned is what was done, yet you feel completely satisfied with the outcome?
MB: I found, working as a professional image maker, that I had to have a way to be creative on demand. There is no room for the “I’m not inspired today” excuse when your crew is standing there waiting for instructions.
The discipline of a 30-second commercial is unforgiving. If two weeks after the shoot the editor in New York finds a scene is 1/2-second long and won’t fit, the project fails. The film business taught me preparation and required an attention to detail that anticipated pitfalls and built failsafe strategies. On all my sets I tried to show up with a plan, but create an atmosphere where if spontaneity offered a better option I was able to use it, as long as it satisfied the creative director, writer, art director, client, and, of course, the legal department.
Still photography - especially client-direct shoots - was much more open to creative interpretation and spontaneity, probably because there was less money at stake and because they were often looking to me for their creative approach and not a committee at an agency. However, I always insisted on a creative brief from the client, on scouting locations in advance, and I created storyboards and written descriptions of deliverables that set out achievable expectations. The more technical the shoot, the less we were able to deviate from the plan, but there’s always room for new ideas and if they’re good I use ‘em.
Personal Work: Portraits
MK: Was there a specific point in time where you felt that you had found your voice in photography and became satisfied with the direction of your work? Do you ever truly find yourself in a good place with your images, or are you always searching for more?
MB: About 5 years ago I said, out loud, “I’m tired of making other people’s pictures”. And from that day forward I think I found my voice (my “eye”?) in photography in my personal work. I feel pretty confident that I can make a successful picture of anything I want to, and more certain than ever that trying to, or having to, please someone else with my images detracts from the joy of making them.
When you and I worked together most of my work was portraiture. My last series - The Simple Arrangement of Things - was primarily objects and places. My ‘search for more’ today involves a return to portraiture, but I need to find something new about it. I’ve always felt that being an artist meant constantly reinventing/reinterpreting your vision. That makes for a harder life, but it keeps the juices flowing.
MK: Any exceptionally interesting or career-altering stories from one of your shoots?
MB: The most important stories are life-altering. I was shooting a package of spots for Sea World in San Diego and our day had a late call time so we could shoot in the dark until about 4 am. The final title scene was Shamu the whale jumping against a night sky of glittering stars. The crew stretched black fabric to cover the bleachers around Shamu’s tank and the electricians set a zillion tiny lights to make the stars. Around 2 am my AD, cinematographer, and myself accompanied a trainer through a gate and a sleepy Shamu entered her tank through an underwater door on the far side. As Shamu made a slow circle of the tank towards us I could literally feel the aura of her energy increase. She stopped in front of us and I reached out to pet her shimmering black skin. I had never been in the presence of another being so much larger than me, and her energy charged the atmosphere around me. Life-altering. And unforgettable.
Oops - nothing career altering here, just a memory I get to keep forever.
MK: With regard to creativity and the projects you take on. Do you feel it is better to create work that fits a particular style for yourself, branch out and try new things, or better to simply leave yourself open to possibilities that happen organically?
MB: I’ve always felt that my images lack a signature style. I generally feel most accomplished if I’m somewhat invisible in the finished photograph. I try to do what’s right for the particular situation or outcome rather than insinuate my “look” onto every subject. For that reason, I love working on location and letting ideas develop from what’s around - things I would never have thought of to bring into the studio, for instance. At a certain level, I think of good photography as jazz - a kind of mastery of the instrument and the scales, chords, keys, riffs, and rhythms that’s lets you improvise, inspired and motivated by the energy that’s around you.
Personal Work: Street
MK: Now, I wanted to move into a discussion that we had previously touched on. The attitude of working in the visual arts has taken a dramatic shift for you, is that correct? What was once a way of life and a means of making a decent living has changed over the years. How do you see your role as an image-maker these days?
MB: Photography - this thing that has been my identity since I was a kid - has changed. And I wonder sometimes if maybe I’ve made my images already. I think every generation must eventually reach an age where what was familiar is no longer recognizable, where evolution alters what was a comfortable reality and there’s just no energy or interest in learning new tricks.
I think photography today has become a medium of process at the expense of content. There is much more interest in how an image was made than in what it’s an image of. Gimmicks pass for creativity, mastery of craft is dismissed as time-consuming and irrelevant, and the mundane is celebrated as self-expression and fine art.
I think my value these days is not in making images, but in serving other image makers.
I’ve been teaching for over 30 years, and I cherish the relationships I build with clients who want to understand how to really process their photographs, how to enhance the intent of an image, and uncover its potential. That process is darkroom-simple - not tricks or plug-ins or flashy technique, but the analysis and discovery and achievement of a truly finished image that eludes even the most experienced artists.
I am also committed to practicing the essentials of photography and eschew ‘auto-everything’ and plug-ins to do my work for me. All of my gear is old - I like to say that I shoot with ‘vintage’ digital cameras. That constantly reminds me that I don’t need ISO 250,000 to make pictures, that an 18mp sensor can make a beautiful 40x60” print with detail that will cut your eyeballs, and that the perpetual chase for the next new thing that renders that last new thing that you just bought now worthless is a marketing ploy that has nothing to do with making photographs. A lot of “photographers” today are simply addicted to camera buying - and none of those camera will make them artists.
I work with clients to make sure that they have intention in their work. A lot of very nice looking photographs are when you look for intent, pictures of nothing, with no purpose.
The last thing the world needs is another jpeg.
I try to help clients work slower, more thoughtfully, with a purpose for their images and a commitment to finding their unique style and vision. I ask them to learn and consider post-production as 1/2 of the image-making process so that they previsualize the finished photograph as they press the shutter. I work with them to process and print the full potential of their captures, and I design books and exhibitions, and websites to elevate the presentation of their finished work.
MK: I will have to admit as well that things are never going to be as they once were for a great many people. There will always be exceptions, of course, but it seems as though the best way to move forward is to diversify your skillset and find multiple avenues for working in the arts, no matter what medium you reside in. Would you agree?
MB: The need to express creatively can take many forms, and I think diversity in one’s methods of expression can only inform your creative energy as a whole. That said, mastery of a single discipline, that thing that identifies you or with which you get labeled and known, requires an extreme level of dedication, and no trivial amount of time, to achieve and becomes the thing you’re known for.
Today we’re all expected to not only create work and evolve our art, but manage, market, and maintain the business of “artist”, including paying attention to branding, long-term planning for career growth, financial stability, family, philanthropy, ecology, planet responsibility - the list goes on. There’s plenty of diversity in all that - although maybe not the kind you were thinking of.
MK: That makes complete sense to me, of course. But what I can point to in you, as an example, is exactly what I’m talking about. You started in photography, moved into film and directing, and then eventually pivot into printmaking and teaching. They all relate and inform one another and help to create a more diversified you, as a whole. I simply feel that this kind of growth is what keeps creators moving forward instead of stagnating or getting burnt out. I also think it’s necessary whether you approach this from a fine art or commercial (or both) route. Not sure there’s a response here, but just wanted to clarify.
MB: It’s funny, you mention these various hats I’ve worn through the years, but to me, they’re all the same. I guess, starting with a universal title like “storyteller” or “visual artist” they all fit, but I’m trying to be careful here because I am really proud to have been - to be - a “photographer.” In this time when newspapers are giving journalists iPhones and firing their photography staffs when universities are closing their photography departments and moving them into communications ‘… because they need to shoot video…’, and when we see ads like “6 Free Apps to Turn Photos Into Art!”, I see photography being downgraded, dismissed, and relegated to ‘partial art’ - something that needs to be changed into something else before it will be considered valid. People tell me that’s the future of photography and that I need to get out of the way, but I think unless we stand against that tsunami of disregard and the dilution of our medium through the sheer vastness of pictures made every day requiring no effort or skill, photographers - and photography - will lose.
Pursue as diverse a creative universe as you can imagine, it will all inform your evolution as an artist. I learned and grew from every iteration of my career(s), but I’ve come to embrace photography as my medium. It all comes together in a still image and a print, and I’m content with that.
Personal Work: Places
MK: As I mentioned, one of the many hats you do still wear is one as an educator, but it seems that even that is changing these days. Online teaching has certainly become the norm, especially lately. Do you still find this route to be of value to you or your students? What, if anything, has been lost?
MB: I’ve been teaching online for about 14 years now and although it’s often the only way to be able to interface with distant clients, it certainly limits certain aspects that are valuable teaching aids. Much of my work is about the computer - managing workflow, processing images, book design, so online teaching is practical and appropriate. However, going out shooting together is pretty much out of the question, and that hands-on experience is certainly valuable, especially in demystifying some of the basic techniques of photography that can stifle an emerging photographer for a long time if not clarified early on.
MK: Are there any positive words of wisdom for those still willing to take the plunge into an art-inspired career?
MB: I wish I could speak with more experience to a career in fine art photography, but I’m learning about that world myself. My background is in commercial work - both stills and film - and that’s a world I feel I understand - or at least used to.
I think it’s important to have a plan - an intent on where you’re going when you start out. Research thoroughly the myriad options available for an art-oriented life and carefully consider whether the idea of earning a living as an artist is something that will enhance your creative goals, or hinder them. I’ve known photographers who, in trying to make photography their business lost their love of making pictures, the thing that got them started in the first place. They would have been happier and perhaps more creative with photography as a lifelong hobby. Conversely, we all know successful photographers who could be just as successful selling cars or growing mushrooms. Be true to yourself and you’ll never work a day in your life.
Personal Work: Yelapa, Mexico
MK: Thank you so much for your time with my questions, Mark. Clearly, life in the visual arts has changed dramatically for you over the years, yet I’m sure that you have not entirely let it go. Do you feel as though you still have work to create, and perhaps you could give us an inkling of what that might be?
MB: As I mentioned, early on I fell into advertising and was enamored of the fast pace, big budget, fat fee, large production aspects of it. But I’ve learned that photography’s unsung heroes are the photojournalists and the documentary photographers who bleed images because of their dedication and not their paycheck and make work about real people whose stories need to be seen to be told and understood. They are my photography heroes, and I hope that it’s not too late for me to make a similar contribution.
I feel like I’m being pulled back towards making images about people - maybe a combination of portraits and documentary - that can tell layered stories about lives that are not apparent, that are hiding in plain sight. I’d like to create a significant body of work before I’m done, but I honestly don’t know who those people are or what that story is yet.
I’m on a search and I hope to figure it out in time to make some truly good work. Oh, and my Hasselblad 500 c/m is due back from repair any day, so…
You can find more of Mark's work on his website here.
All photographs, ©Mark Berndt
