Mary McCartney—
The Courage to Be Real
Prague’s Design Week began with a dazzle this year. The Roman High Jeweler Bvlgari gathered its most cherished clients and the international design crowd for an exclusive pre-opening night marking the start of Designblok. At the newly restored Galerie Rudolfinum—amid diamonds, art, and champagne—photographer Mary McCartney unveiled her exhibition “The Courage to Be Real”. MAISON Ë met her just before the party to talk about her work, her inspiration, and what the word “courage” means to her.
(Photography) When photographer Mary McCartney steps onto the balcony of the Galerie Rudolfinum in Prague, the late-afternoon light catches her in the gentle, cinematic way the city seems to reserve for its most elegant moments. Below, the Vltava shimmers as the design crowd hums with anticipation—awaiting the glamorous pre-opening night of Designblok, Central Europe’s most polished art week. Inside, assistants glide between frames and floral arrangements, making final adjustments before the opening of “The Courage to Be Real.”
The artist herself seems unbothered by the choreography of it all. Dressed simply in jeans, a navy cashmere sweater, and her trademark glasses, McCartney radiates an unhurried ease. Maybe it’s the quiet self-assurance that comes from growing up as the daughter of two icons—Paul and Linda McCartney—or, maybe it’s just that she has learned to move entirely to her own rhythm.
Moments before the opening of her vernissage, McCartney seems to be entirely present, fully herself. She greets the small group of journalists with warmth and a comfortable laugh. Before questions can begin, she suggests, “Let’s look at the pictures first.” There’s no trace of celebrity hauteur, no performance.
With her friend and co-curator Martina Lowe—who was born in Prague—McCartney spent weeks sifting through her archive in preparation for this audience. They printed postcard-sized images and scattered them across the studio floor, arranging and rearranging, and letting instinct decide what belonged together. McCartney likes to hang works in different sizes, refusing the predictable line. “I get easily distracted,” she admits with a grin. “If everything’s the same, you stop looking.” The variations, she believes, keep the eye alert, the viewer engaged. Many of her chosen images are anonymous—faces turned away, gestures half-caught—inviting visitors to lose themselves inside the picture rather than to simply look. But among them, she insists, a few portraits return the gaze. “I like those moments of eye contact,” she says. “They pull you in, they challenge you a little—as if you were in conversation with that person.”
“This was shot on Polaroid film—you peel it, and the chemicals leave this little mark. Kate almost feels like a little fairy. It has this soft green tint, a grain that feels tender. There’s silk, architecture, craft—and then her bare, dirty feet. That imperfection makes it for me elegant but undone. That was not planned; it was spontaneous. That is what I love most about it.”
“This was taken backstage at an event at the Royal Albert Hall—everything was glitter and chaos, but Milla was still in her own clothes, with no hair or makeup, just trying on this incredible necklace. I loved that contrast—the punky ease of her look against all that glamour. The light, the color, her fearless attitude! Everything came together in a way that feels very real. You just want to know her more.”
“This was during a fashion shoot at the Barbican—two policemen walked by, so I asked them to step in. It has humor and curiosity. I didn’t know them, but later I kept wondering who they were—one looked almost too young, still growing into his clothes and job, while the other seemed so settled in his ways. That’s what I love about photography: you take something in a second, and then you look again and start to question it. It keeps your imagination awake.”
“I love this one for its quiet elegance and anonymity—it feels unmistakably British. As a Londoner, it feels like a nod to my heritage.“
“This was during a fashion shoot at the Barbican—two policemen walked by,
so I asked them to step in. It has humor and curiosity. I didn’t know them, but later I kept wondering who they were—one looked almost too young, still growing into his clothes and job, while the other seemed so settled in his ways. That’s what I love about photography: you take something in a second, and then you look again and start to question it. It keeps your imagination awake.”
Maison Ë How would you say your perspective on portraiture has changed over the years?
Mary McCartney I’ve learned to walk into each situation quietly. Often, I don’t know the person, or I’m being invited into a quite private setting. So I try to read the room—do they want to be directed, or do they prefer that I simply observe? Sometimes it’s both. Over time I’ve built a sort of “bag of tricks”—ways I like to approach things. Even when I have to light a scene, I want it to look natural. I never want the viewer to feel there’s a big production behind the camera. It should feel like just me, the photograph, and the viewer—very direct, very real.
M.Ë There’s only one man among all these women. The very last picture—what made that image belong here?
M.M. I laid out lots and lots of pictures, and then it’s really about how they speak to each other. And this is one of my favorite photographs. It’s my dad. He’s in a blue suit, holding a big bouquet, walking away. I love the anonymity and the movement—it’s quietly powerful.
M.Ë So it was really an emotional edit?
M.M. Exactly. These are works I live with in my studio, images I see every day. They make me feel something. That’s what I want for others too—connection, emotion, a spark of joy.
M.Ë How did your collaboration with Bvlgari come about, and what was that experience like?
M.M. I love the Brand! Bvlgari has a long tradition of supporting art and culture around the world. It’s very much in the Maison’s DNA to champion women and their art. My Czech friend Martina introduced me to this inspiring team of people—creative, thoughtful, full of ideas. It felt like the start of something meaningful.
M.Ë In some of your portraits we see beautiful jewelry and incredible dresses. What has shaped your sense of style?
M.M. My mum is my forever icon, a complete original. Stella, my fashion designer sister, often looks to both our parents for inspiration, and I do too, in my own way. That said, I don’t really do much fashion work; I see myself as a portrait photographer. I love fashion, I love beautiful things, but they have to feel real. Style should be a little aspirational, yes, but also grounded—something that makes you feel good and still connected to reality.
M.Ë Do you take pictures even when you’re not working?
M.M. I try to. If I don’t and I miss something, I call it a “soul-camera moment”—something my mum taught me. If you miss a shot, it’s okay, you’ve captured it with your soul instead. There’s real value in that—putting things down and just being present. Phones can be distracting; sometimes the best thing is simply to look. When I have a real camera with me, it actually keeps me more connected.
M.Ë What made you want to become a photographer?
M.M. Black and white photography is what really made me fall in love with photography, growing up with images from Henri Cartier-Bresson and Diane Arbus—these beautiful, black and white, grainy qualities.
M.Ë What kind of photography feels truly yours?
M.M. I really love behind the scenes. I think growing up on tour as a kid, I got to see all the crew building the set and all of the hard work that went into it. So often, when I go to a performance of a play or a ballet, I think, how did that person get here? Like, they’re amazing! I imagine how much dedication they have, how they’ve devoted their life to their process. That inspires me!
M.Ë Do you see your home as a kind of self-portrait?
M.M. Yes, but I have a lot of paintings. And lots of books—art books everywhere. I find endless inspiration in museums, in looking at paintings, their composition, the lighting. I also have drawings and personal pieces that were given to me. I’m not a collector in the grand sense; it’s more about what feels personal. In my studio, I keep only my own work. It helps me stay connected to what I’m doing. At home it’s a mix—images, paintings, memories.
M.Ë You seem constantly creative. How do you keep that flow—do you have a secret or any advice?
M.M. I’m always exploring. Wherever I am, I like to walk—London, Prague, any city that lets you wander and notice things. People-watching, parks, little markets, even food inspires me. I think about where things come from, the people who made them, their stories. Staying curious and optimistic is everything. Many of my photographs begin as small, everyday moments I notice along the way. You just have to keep your eyes open—creativity lives in observation.
M.Ë The exhibition in Prague centers around the idea of courage. How has your own sense of courage evolved over time?
M.M. It’s grown. When you’re younger you often wonder: what’s my path? Over time my courage has become about understanding what I’m passionate about and staying true to it—not getting distracted. I’m deeply affected by the world, by the news, and I think real courage, for me, is trying to see the good in people and in life, and to keep myself feeling positive. Because that energy spreads. I love being around kind, thoughtful people—that generosity radiates. Whatever I work on, I want it to have a positive impact.
“This one is of my dad, taken in a space I love for its rawness—peeling walls, traces of stories. There’s a weight to it. You feel him, but you also feel everyone who’s been there before. I’ve only shown it to the public once, and it felt perfect for this exhibition.”
“Liv is surrounded by nature, looking up to the sky. It’s romantic and gentle, almost magical. It has that sense of freedom and lightness that ties the whole show together—courage, beauty, and a quiet conversation with the natural world. She’s wistful and romantic, framed by flowers that add something magical to her personality. Looking up to the sky, it feels like a moment of connection with nature and the open air.”
As the doors open and the first guests drift through the gallery—elegant evening dresses sweeping the marble floors, Bvlgari jewels catching the light—the atmosphere shifts. People have travelled from near and far to be here for this fabulous night. The Roman High Jeweler is hosting the evening, and glamour is in full bloom.
Mary McCartney disappears for a moment, then returns in a softly tailored jumpsuit—smiling and luminous amid the buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses. Suddenly that same quiet ease that characterizes her photographs now seems to define the room again. There is no distance between artist and audience, only connection.
Later, as music swells through the marble halls of the Rudolfinum, McCartney stands for a moment at the edge of the crowd, watching the guests as they admire her photographs. She is perfectly still, simply observing.
A soul-camera moment, perhaps.
Mary McCartney