Mark Peterson’s images of a drive-in service at a Virginia Beach megachurch feel both wholly of this pandemic and wholly retro.
Honk once for “Amen,” twice for “Glory hallelujah”: those are the newest liturgical instructions for the Rock Church, an evangelical congregation in Virginia Beach. The megachurch normally gathers in an enormous auditorium that seats more than five thousand, but, as the coronavirus has limited the ability of congregations to come together physically, members began meeting instead in the parking lot, where drive-in services are taking the place of regular worship. The praise band and the pastor took to a temporary stage erected outside the building, while a local FM station offered the church airtime, so that congregants could tune in to the service, as if it were a drive-in movie. The photographer Mark Peterson captured one of those services the week before Palm Sunday, beginning when ushers helped orchestrate the parking of cars and continuing until the parishioners dropped their offerings and prayer cards in buckets on their way out of the parking lot.
Mark Peterson documented supremacist groups across the U.S. in the wake of Charlottesville's deadly rally
“They have Confederate flags and Nazi symbols and they’re just standing there, and nobody’s paying attention,” recalls photographer Mark Peterson, who was among the cluster of media that day. “And six weeks later Charlottesville happened and everybody did pay attention to the same group doing the same thing. It’s just pretty surreal.”
The New Republic has published Mark Peterson’s dramatic images of clashes in Charlottesville, Virginia, last weekend between white nationalists at the so-called “Unite the Right” rally, and counter-protesters who showed up to demonstrate against the risin
Over the past two years Mark Peterson has photographed American presidential candidates as they lead rallies, meet with voters and plead for votes. He started shortly before the government shutdown in 2013 at a Tea Party rally at the US Capitol, when politicians were railing against President Obama and the Affordable Care Act—a show to get a sound bite into the next news cycle.
Every presidential campaign has a particular feel and color: the red, white, and blue days of JFK that ended in a sad pink boucle, the brilliant reds of Nancy Reagan, the rainbow spectrum of the Obamas. But this election is perfectly captured in black and
Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski of MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” moderate a town hall with Republican presidential candidate Donald J. Trump in Charleston, South Carolina on February 17, 2016. Former Secretary…
On Instagram, Mark Peterson describes his photographs as “Politics in Black and White,” and they might be too disturbing if they were in color. His portraits of politicians at rallies and on the campaign trail—and their enraptured throngs of audience members—are somehow both unforgiving and empathetic.
Peterson certainly has developed a style. His images have an intensity to them that can’t be achieved with mid-range or long lenses. And it’s a style that has suited him well over the years with clients that wanted someone who would bring “something different” to the table. I once assigned him to a college football game knowing full well, that I wasn’t going to see a single action picture when it came time to edit. And the results did not disappoint.
we spoke to Redux photographer Mark Peterson, whose candid and at times outrageous political photos have appeared on the Instagram feeds of MSNBC and GQ, and in print in the New York Times Magazine, New York Magazine, Fortune and TIME.
The photographer Mark Peterson, like most Americans frustrated with our democratic experiment, hyperprocesses his images to cast the hard-edged rhetoric in sharp relief.
Even in these ferociously partisan times, Mark Peterson finds it staggering how the national conversation about politics has gone so over the top. Fervid comparisons to Nazis, slavery, the Ku Klux Klan, totalitarianism, communism, Muslim extremism and terrorism are tossed around so casually that the words seem to lose their edge; the history becomes fuzzy.