If I did everything that Mark Mirsky urged me to do, I'd have a million contact prints. He is my supporter. Go take pictures on Blue Hill Avenue. The Boston Army base. Nearby Paragon Park. The St. Patrick's Day Parade. Olmsted's Franklin Park. Three-decker Boston architecture. Rabbi Soleveychick. Mark calls me up from New York, where he lives: Have you done it yet? You gotta get it done. Did you call so-and-so yet'!
Mark makes me feel that taking craft seriously is part of a beautiful tradition. It's what you do. Unfailingly, he responds to what he sees, what he likes. Discovers images I have overlooked. He always reports back to me the nice things people have said about my work and calms me down when I get paranoid. When I think, 'Ah, what I need to relax/distract myself is a good argument with someone.' When Gail Mazur and I talk about the difficulty of getting the work done, I always end up saying, 'If only I could be like Mark.' He is so uncluttered, unfettered in his head.
Mark's father was a politician and Mark has an unerring instinct for dealing with people. Like my mother, he has his axioms: 'Don't get mad if it won't be useful. Don't be afraid of using intimate details in your work: it's all materiaL Always help your friends; push their work. Always publish in little magazines.'
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