Memorial Celebration:

A Celebration of Marko MacPherson’s Life

November 22, 2022

Mike Hagerty

Hello, my name is Mike Hagerty, I’m Marko’s brother. Thank you all for coming on such short notice to celebrate Marko’s life. Thank you Christiane for organizing this lovely event. And thank you to the many people who’ve helped her – Rachel, Alex, Margot, Isla, Cully, Christopher, Peter, Lauri and her team to name a few. I’m sure if Marko were here tonight he would be somewhere in the back talking over me right now to those around him, unabashedly extolling the wonders of fish tacos. 

I suppose that I’m speaking first tonight because I knew Marko from the beginning. 

My earliest memory of Marko is not really my own memory, but rather one that he reminded me about over the years. We were 3 and 4 years old at the time, and taking a bath together as we often did. One of us – let’s just say for the sake of the story it was Marko – heard the unmistakable squeaking sound of a gas bubble reverberating against the bottom of the tub and turned around to see that the other of us – let’s just say it was me, but really, who could know for sure – had just released an enormous turd into the clear bath water. From here, it was definitely Marko who screamed and jumped out of the tub. For those of you who know Marko well and know about his aversion to baths … this is why. 

Around this time also, Marko and I would have to take daily naps in our shared room to give our mother a break (for some reason she was always tired). We’d try to nap but it never lasted long and we’d instead use the time to rearrange our room. We’d take the screen out of the window and then, with one of us on either side, we’d pass most of our belongings through the window – books, bookshelves, lamps – and set them up in the front yard. Eventually our mother would search for us and discover our room recreated on the lawn. 

Did I mention she was always tired ? 

I’m pretty introverted and if you know anything about Marko it’s that he’s never been … shy. 

I relied on him to be “our” voice. 

When we were young we looked a lot alike and our mother dressed us in matching outfits, usually one in blue and one in brown. On Christmas we had to open our presents at the same time because we always got the same gifts. 

People who didn’t know us well would ask: “Which one are you?” For me, the situation was kind of ideal. It allowed me to be both anonymous and part of an exclusive team. However, being the older of us, Marko didn’t enjoy being mistaken for his younger brother. Which is to say we didn’t always get along. When our arguments got heated and my blood boiled I would get flustered and struggle for words; in contrast Marko would somehow become even more articulate and pointed in his criticisms. If you ever had the misfortune of arguing with Marko you know what I’m talking about. It was not fun to say the least. On the flip side, Marko could be incredibly funny and no one made me laugh harder than he did. 

Marko and I were raised in a turbulent and volatile home with difficult parents and it was only through Marko’s tremendous sense of humor that I survived. Even as a child he could clearly identify and articulate the insanity of our circumstances and turn it into something funny to reduce the sting.. 

By high school Marko and I had each found our own group of friends and we didn’t interact as much; his friends from that period (including Jeff Blue, who will speak next) will have much better accounts. However, I have very fond memories of surfing with him and his friends after school. We’d pile into his orange Fiat and drive to San Onofre, blasting the Ramones on the way. I remember once, on the long walk down to Trestles, I stepped on a cactus in my bare feet and I thought I wouldn’t get to surf that day … until Marko pulled the needles out of my foot with his teeth! I felt really bad for him, especially when I remembered that I had tweezers in my backpack! (not really). 

After high school Marko moved to San Francisco where he lived with his roommates Manny and Barry. I would come up from San Diego to visit and I admired the creativity I saw in their art and I envied their lives in the city. Having grown up in southern California in the 70’s and 80’s, where anyone with brown hair was considered exotic, seeing the greater variety of people in San Francisco was eye opening for me. 

As good as Marko was at photography – and, looking back now at his body of work, I realize that he was “sneaky productive” – what impressed me most as I watched him over many years, was his fearlessness around people and his desire to engage. He loved interacting with all kinds of people. 

I remember once when I visited him in San Francisco, he was working at a restaurant at the time and we stopped by on his day off so he could pick up his paycheck. As I waited on the sidewalk in front, he brought out a succession of co-workers to introduce to me. Many were older people who had worked there a long time. It was like little living portraits. He’d walk someone out, put his arm around them, tell me their name and usually a funny story about them and they’d say “oh Marko!” and then go back inside, and he’d bring the next person out. 

Several years later I came up from New Zealand to visit Marko and Christiane in Brooklyn while their condo was being renovated. Marko noticed that the team of Amish carpenters who were driven into the city every morning to work on their cabinets, had to make a long trip home at the end of each day only to come back the next day and do it all over again. So he invited them to stay with them in Brooklyn during the week while they worked. 

Over the last several years, Marko has been very generous to me and my family. He and Christiane have invited us to Fire Island several times to vacation with them and last summer our families vacationed together near Woodstock NY. I’m so thankful for this trip as it gave Marko an opportunity to teach my son Kavi how to ride a motorbike. Thank you Todd for loaning him the bikes for this. I got to ride one on a loop through a meadow alongside my son and I felt like a kid again. And just like when we were kids, someone called the cops on us. Fortunately Marko did the talking and by the end of it, some 30 or 40 minutes later, the police officer was apologizing to us for having to end our father-son moment. 

My relationship with my brother the past 5 years or so was better than ever. I felt like I could call him anytime and chat about anything, big or small. I talked to him a few hours before his ride that day and we were making plans for a future surf trip with our kids. 

I thought we had more time together. 

I was looking forward to having him as a confidant for many more years, and I will miss him dearly. 

Jeff Blue

John Manno

Good evening.

I lost a good friend. But I’d like this to be an open letter to Cully and Isla.

Dear Cully. Dear Isla,

I’m very sad – as we all are – that you lost your father. For the rest of your lives there will be a hole in your heart that will remind you of the pain you feel today.

There are some things about this special man that you should hold onto.

First, and most importantly, he loved and admired you both very much. He always talked about you, and would tell me how proud he was to be your father. How proud he was of you. Your dad would show me pictures of you and tell me stories and always smile with delight at how special you were to him. Please don’t ever forget that.

Others here today will speak of your father’s outsized personality and of their friendship with him. I can speak to you about your dad’s talents. I had the privilege of working with him for several years on his photo and video projects. They were his projects – I was only there to help with technical issues and to retouch his photographs. I was always amazed at his skill and artistry. We worked closely together and spent many a sleepless night retouching the work he did for Vogue.com and others. So I can tell you this, Cully and Isla: your dad was a very talented photographer. His photography was outstanding and his clients respected him for that. His photos were often better than what was expected. He wasn’t satisfied with a photo until he knew it was perfect.

And so the energy he had at a photo shoot was simply amazing. Even towards the end of a long day, your dad was still enthusiastically coming up with ideas and making productive changes and doing whatever was necessary to make a great photograph. I was impressed. The clients were impressed. He was truly awesome during those photo shoots. Clients relied on his opinions and listened to what he had to say. He was a true artist.

Last week, I was contacted by an art director that we worked with many years ago. I had not heard from her for about 10 years. But she called me to say how “crushed” she was at the news of your father’s passing. Think about that – a client from the distant past needing to express what all of us here feel. We’re all crushed.

The true measure of a person is how they act when times are difficult. Everyone in this room knows how the photo business has changed over the years – how hard it is to make a name and to get clients. That’s true for all photographers. Some of us just fade away, never to be heard from again. And some, like your dad, take the bull by the horns and get to work. Your dad was out to prove himself and he worked at it daily. You’ve seen him shooting for his portfolio, editing his images, contacting clients and potential clients, putting himself out there. That’s not an easy thing to do. It takes courage. Lots of courage. Your father was a courageous man. That’s more than can be said for a lot of people.

At some point in your lives, you will have lived longer without your dad than you did with him. He won’t be with you when you graduate school, he won’t be at your weddings, your children won’t know their grandpa. Memories fade and become confused, but try to hold onto what you know about your father now. Try to think back on the good times with him, and to know that he was respected by others not only for his talent as a photographer, but also because he was a good person who was loved and admired by so many of us. Thank you Cully. Thank you Isla. You gave your dad so much joy.

Raegan Jones

As I suspect is the same for many of you here today I ultimately came to know Marko through our children. Cully and our eldest daughter Anais went to kindergarten together and 14 years ago Christiane and I found ourselves at a kids birthday party in Brooklyn. Isla was a newborn and I had recently started a business called aden + anais a few years prior. Christiane and I were chatting about babies and business and I was telling her about this baby product company I had started and that I had just done my first “real” photo shoot for the business.  Well in all honesty I was actually complaining about what an egomaniacal tosser the photographer was and despite the fact that he got some lovely images, the 2 day shoot was stressful and definitely not fun.  It was then she said “my husband Marko is a photographer, you should speak to him” which is exactly what I did and we ended up working together for the best part of a decade.  

Marko could not have been more different to the first photographer I worked with.  He was equally if not more, talented, he understood my vision and was happy to collaborate. He was relaxed, charming, humble (despite being extraordinarily opinionated), fun and patient, which you absolutely needed to be when you were waiting to get the perfect image of a sleeping swaddled baby.  He never lost his “Californian cool” despite being given multiple opportunities to do so with tens of crying babies on set and refusing to sleep at any given time. He treated everyone he worked with, with kindness and respect.

He was always pushing me to be and do better, and that’s exactly what he did, he made me better! Marko was a very big part of helping me build what ultimately became an iconic global brand in the baby space,  My home is filled with beautiful images he took of me and my 4 girls so I think of him often and I am truly thankful to have known him and to be able to call him my friend.

I can’t even begin to imagine the loss that Christiane, Cully and Isla feel.  My heart breaks for all of you.  Please know how much he loved you all and how proud he was to be your husband and dad.  I know this for sure as I honestly don’t remember one single time when we were together that he didn’t have something fabulous to tell me about all of you.

You are a unique and wonderful soul Marko and I know you are going to be missed immensely by many.

Christopher Batenhorst

“Don’t make me laugh, I’m on my way to a funeral.”
— Dorothy Parker

I began working for C&M in 2009 soon after I finished grad school & was
starting a second career as a landscape designer. I “helped” Marko
create the Brooklyn paradise he craved. Since then I’ve become part the
Mack/MacPherson clan….helping Marko with any assistance he needed…
photo assistant, set design, bullshitting on Matt & Nadean’s
stoop….Douglass Street is my second home and the people that live
there, my second family. Most of that sentiment is due to Marko. I will
always be grateful for that……Say their names….Talya & Peter, Eliana,
Teo, Matt & Nadean & their kids, Dani, Eric etc. Since Marko’s passing
I look at my text & phone call history. We were in contact almost every
day! I tried to be a good friend to him. Recently, he was working so
hard on a journey to find a new path for his life. When he was enthused
about something, you couldn’t keep him quiet. Over the last 6-7 weeks
he has been coaching me on frying a turkey for Thanksgiving….he was
an expert….but I still have questions. I phoned him just as reminder
that he had to move the car at 11a for alternate side parking a couple
Fridays ago. Turns out he was on his way to the moto cross track in NJ
and everything was good…with childish excitement he said how happy
he was to be taking the day off to ride….how beautiful the fall foliage
was…how beautiful and clear the light was!!!!

Do what you love, and let it kill you!!!!!
— Charles Bukowski

Joe Ogrodnek

Christiane Mack

Before I talk about the man of the hour, I want to thank each of you.

The love that fills this room is awe-inspiring. It would have made Marko positively euphoric. In fact, he would never have shut up about it.

Marko and I always knew what incredible friends we have. You buoyed us when we should be sinking. You jumped onto this train the second it left “tragedy station.”

Thank you especially to Peter who immediately got to work building Marko’s memorial site.

My sister Alex and my sister wives Rachel, Margot, and Lauri.

Christopher, who, when I call, always answers–and I’m sorry–you’re stuck with me forever!

Jeremy, who took Marko’s eclectic music tastes and mixed them into today’s superb playlist.

And my incredible Condé Nast family.

I am so very thankful for all of you. My family and I will never forget what you have done for us.

---

Marko and I  met on November 4th, 2000 and he left us on November 4th, 2022. Twenty-two perfectly imperfect years for which I am eternally grateful.

As a great example of “opposites attract,” he was everything I’m not. And so much I aspire to be:

-Relaxed and warm, with an easy laugh

-Loquacious

-Crazy athletic

-Fearless

-Mechanically inclined

-Always prepared and ready in a crisis

He was willing to teach

anything

to anyone

at any time

with the sole (and major) caveat being that you had to be prepared for a lecture.  

He taught me how to snowboard. And by “taught me how to snowboard,” I mean he taught me the history of the sport, the mechanics of the board, the right protective gear to wear, and the etiquette of the mountain. While I had a rudimentary understanding of what we were about to do, I found myself frozen at the top of the hill, both feet confined, only beginning to comprehend the fact that snowboarding was the action of sliding sideways downhill with the goal of picking up speed while avoiding catching an edge. I was terrified.

FIND YOUR MOJO, Marko screamed at me.

DON’T BE SO STIFF.

FOR GODSSAKES, MOVE YOUR BODY!

DANCE WITH THE MOUNTAIN!

HAVE

SOME

FUN!

Fun.

Marko was a hedonist at heart.

He loved to have fun. Was committed fully to the pursuit of pleasure—even while working! Wanted to show others the same joy and share in the thrill together.

So many people have shared their sense of how ALIVE Marko always was and how that makes it harder to believe he’s gone.

He was alive not just in his sense of adventure, thrill, and humor, but also in his contempt, outrage, and aggravation.

He was alive in his convictions, explanations, and beliefs.

He was alive in his desires, appetites, and protective instincts.

He was alive in his choice of words and the timbre of voice he used to say them.

He was alive in his raw emotions—usually unfiltered.

Marko’s brand of diplomacy was selective. I know he would have had strong opinions about every aspect of this celebration. I hope we got it right, Marko–especially the lighting, photo edit, and music!

Marko dreamed often, and he dreamed BIG.

He would outline, research, design, investigate, scrutinize, share and expand the goals: Why roast a turkey for Thanksgiving when we could deep fry it in the backyard? And why stop at turkey? Why not prime rib?

For him, creativity had no constraints. Everything was possible.

He had a SYSTEM for everything, and God help the person who didn’t follow it!

Marko taught me to let go,

suspend belief,

throw away logic

in the pursuit of what COULD BE.

We were in the middle of so much. We had unfinished business and it felt as though we were on the precipice of something new.

It’s only been a little more than two weeks, but this reality has forced us into the new time frame of “AM,” or After Marko.

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. We miss you like hell.”

— Edna St. Vincent Millay

Let’s raise a glass to Marko, for all that he was and all that he gave us. May we always feel the mark he left on us and the world.

I hope you’re finally able to get a full night’s sleep, my darling.

We love you and miss you like hell!

Cully MacPherson

I still can’t believe I won’t get calls or texts from my Dad anymore, that he’ll never show up to another one of my games.

This Rumi poem reminds me of him, that he is inside me always, and that everything is connected.

SAY I AM YOU by Rumi

I am dust particles in sunlight.
I am the round sun.

To the bits of dust I say, Stay.
To the sun, Keep moving.

I am morning mist, and the breathing of evening.

I am wind in the top of a grove, and surf on the cliff.

Mast, rudder, helmsman, and keel,
I am also the coral reef they founder on.

I am a tree with a trained parrot in its branches.
Silence, thought, and voice.

The musical air coming through a flute,
a spark of a stone, a flickering in metal.

Both candle and the moth crazy around it.

Rose, and the nightingale lost in the fragrance.

I am all orders of being, the circling galaxy,
the evolutionary intelligence, the lift,

and the falling away. What is, and what isn’t.

Say who I am. 

Say I am You.

Isla MacPherson

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. We miss you like hell.”

— Edna St. Vincent Millay

Let’s raise a glass to Marko, for all that he was and all that he gave us. May we always feel the mark he left on us and the world.

I hope you’re finally able to get a full night’s sleep, my darling.

We love you and miss you like hell!