This is the love child of marshall mcdonald. I are a photographer. Let me take your picture. // marshallmcdonaldphoto.com // twitter!!! // facebook

Forget numbers. Label your hard drives with something you’ll remember. When ODB turns up missing, you’ll notice a lot sooner.

A female friend recently told me how close I am to my mom. they’ve never met. I never really felt it. And it hadn’t even occurred to me until that moment how true that really is. Our family dynamic has always been screeching loud. Without allowing myself to think about the enormous amounts of patience and love it takes for this family to operate among one another, I looked beyond that closeness because its easier to locate the storm at surface level and call it crazy.

The above is a documentary about photographer Tierney Gearon and her relationship with her family that she regularly, or obsessively, shoots pictures of. Its patterns shift from incredibly loving to impatient, disturbing, sad, and loving again.

Tierney Gearon: The Mother Project focuses on the photographer, Tierney, her mom, and her 2 children. Cameras follow Tierney around as she documents her family, should you choose to call it that. Judging by the pictures themselves, you would guess there’s a full-scale production off camera. Costumes are intricate, poses are ornate, and situations are bordering the uncomfortable. But that’s just their family… in a sense.

Her mother is schizophrenic. Her children appear somewhat indifferent. She’s somewhere right in the middle. But Tierney seems to know where she’s headed. Her fear of mental health is portrayed as hints of it vanish on camera; her phobia enough that it seems priority over everything, children’s safety included. 

I think to understand their dynamic without finding it somewhat weird, you have to know that exposure firsthand to be the least bit supportive of Tierney’s role in this. You spot the subtleties in her mood and it changes you throughout. You see how impatient Tierney gets when her children won’t stand still for a pose, or get the hell out of the frame because they’re ruining her shot. In that moment you think “how exploitative can she be? How many times is she going to put them through this?”. You notice how she ignores her mothers banter during a session because all she really cares about is the picture; the negativity’s reinforced. She terrorizes her mother, in her own words. What you eventually come to realize, lose, and then realize again, is the beauty in the chaos of the highly structured environment Tierney is trying to create for them; not that it’s working… But you begin to see why, if nothing else.

Does she realize that structure only exists in her pictures? If so, is there no hope for real life as she rides the wave of sanity as long as she can shoot? Does knowing or thinking that entitle her to follow her mothers footsteps, sealed fate and all, with no regard for her children?

The woman Tierney never wanted to be is the woman you see in larger doses as the film goes on. Her shots become more forced, some painful to watch.    

Tierney herself states (paraphrased), “I left my son in the sun unprotected [for a picture] because that’s what happened to me”, before breaking down crying in the middle of a diner, seated next to her children.

Tierney emphasizes her way of being as a direct result of exposure and upbringing. She explains her mother’s similar childhood… how it made her the person she is today: a schizo. All the while you’re wondering what the fuck she’s doing to her own kids. They’re sharp; her son too smart for a ten year old. And so it goes on. They too will be parents soon.

At one point Tierney and her son are talking:

Tierney: “Why do you feel like you have to be a bad boy is what I want to know…”

Son: “I was born”

Tierney: “That’s not true, it’s your choice”

Son: “No its not. Everyone is born bad.”

I couldn’t be any more ambiguous here… because I think you need to see it without knowing much else. Or no, that’s a cop out. I couldn’t because it’s a dynamic family more deserving of anything I can possibly say about them.

And the same goes for my family. Rent it.

You bet your ass he did! Central Park. Fall 2010.

Shot on Mamiya, RZ67 with a Plus-X load.

“Kim and Lucie… they’re French.”

Taken on a Mamiya RZ67, Tri-X load.

Justin Carter, DJ, Ft. Greene Park, Brooklyn.

Got together with the Mister Saturday Night guys for a portrait session. Justin was so-so about his pedo-glasses for press shots. I for one think they’re just beautiful.

Shot on Mamiya RZ67 loaded with Kodak 400NC.

Los Angeles Trip - 710 Pictures in 2:37 

Shot on a Canon 5D Mk2.

The last time I will ever see you jump here, for now. Chris Carbone, Utica, New York.

You are on the road right now, my friend. Route 66 takes you to fruitful California where you’ll trade your cargo-pants for car insurance and that beautiful beard for a masters in film… AFI. Greatness. Like ol’ Tom Joad, almost fresh out of jail.

We had an argument on Friday, something I guess I do when I know I’m about to lose somebody as important as you. Over the weekend I thought that was it. I was stumped at the thought of those being the parting words. What were they anyway? What a stupid fucking argument.

But you took one more voyage through the hot concrete. Brooklyn! And that argument we once had made last nights goodbye sweet harmony. I was late for work this morning. UNION POOL PBR VEGAN DINNER DUCK DUCK WHISKEY SPECIAL L TRAIN ACTUALLY RUNNING ON THE WAY HOME. THANK GOD.

We met 4+ years ago. Knowing you has changed my definition on the lifespan and quality of a friendship in this goddamn city.

Drive safe out there.

Love, Marshall

Mamiya 6x7, Kodak 100NC.

Dorianne, Rooftop of abandoned warehouse on Hope St. Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY.

The overbearing clouds gave no hope to the sun. The separation was cold, bereft of contrast. On the bright side, for a shoot in July, the tar roof was once comfortable on her bare feet.

Bakery. Duane Street, Manahattan

Abandoned Warehouse. Hope Street, Brooklyn