Mario Testino Exhibition. Madrid

Mario Testino or the art of turning an image into an event

There was a time when Mario Testino was everywhere. In the books one wanted to own, in campaigns that seemed bigger than fashion itself, in exhibitions conceived as a total event. It wasn't just the photography. It was the feeling that everything around him —the production, the staging, the making-of videos, the books, the website, the way he presented himself to the world— was part of a single body of work.

When I visited his exhibition at the Thyssen Museum in Madrid, that impression clearly reappeared. "Todo o Nada" (All or Nothing), presented there between September 2010 and January 2011, brought together 54 images and confirmed something already hinted at from the outside: Testino didn't just take photographs; he knew how to build a presence.

"A perfectly oiled visual machine"

I was soon interested in something about Mario Testino that went beyond his images. I was interested in how he understood the craft as a public language. How he turned each production into a visible celebration. How he managed to make his work circulate with enormous force, not only because of the quality of the photographs, but because of everything that surrounded them.

At that time, watching his making-of videos or his exhibition videos was almost an experience parallel to the artwork itself. It wasn't so common to find that way of narrating the process, of showing the behind-the-scenes as part of an aspirational, sophisticated, and perfectly articulated imaginary. Testino seemed to naturally enjoy that position. There was something profoundly commercial about him, yes, but also a very fine intuition to understand that, in photography, the image doesn't end with the image.

His universe also had a very particular monumentality. Large productions, carefully crafted books, impeccable communication systems, an expansive energy that made each project seem larger than its format. I especially remember his connection with Kate Moss, and also that large signed collector's book I was able to buy years ago, kept in a red box, which over time has almost become an archival piece. These types of objects perfectly explain part of his magnetism: Testino not only produced desirable photographs, he also produced desire around them.

His style, so polished, so perfect, was never a direct reference for me in terms of visual language. That's not where I found my place. But I was very interested in him as a figure. As a complete character. As someone who understood sooner than many that a photographer could also be a world-builder.