Laci Mack: Through the Lens, Inside the Music

Some photographers frame shots. Laci Mack frames moments — and in bluegrass, that’s the difference between a picture and a piece of history. You can spot her in the shadows at the Grand Ole Opry, in the corner at the Ryman, or tucked against a wall at the Station Inn, silent as a prayer until the shutter cracks like a snare hit. Then she’s gone again, already hunting the next frame.

“Patience is everything,” she says, and you believe it, because in her photos you can see the patience baked into every angle — the waiting, the watching, the exact millisecond when the bow arcs across the strings and the crowd leans in, breath held.

She didn’t learn this from a book or from a classroom. Laci grew up around music, the daughter of East Tennessee’s bluegrass and old-time scene. She didn’t just listen, she played. She was on stage with her band, feeling the lights, the nerves, and the energy rising in waves.

“Playing bluegrass growing up and getting to be on stage with my own band definitely set the tone for how I see my shots,” she says. “Being in that moment, feeling the energy, plus watching us just lose ourselves in the music, stuck with me. So, when I started shooting full-time, I wanted to bring that same feeling into my photos. I want you to feel like you’re right there on stage with the band, plus I enjoy focusing on each member separately for what they bring to each group. I go for a lot of tight shots, weird angles, and little moments that make it feel real, because that’s how it feels when you’re actually living it.”

That’s the root of her work: not the perfection of the pose, but the imperfection of reality, the kind that breathes. It’s the sideways glance between bandmates, the bead of sweat that clings to a fiddle player’s temple, the instant when the bass player’s foot stamps just as the crowd claps. Laci has learned that to catch these, patience is the key. And that philosophy doesn’t change whether she’s at a dusty festival in July or inside the sacred wood of the Opry stage.

“Especially in legendary venues like the Opry, the Ryman, or the Station Inn, where the history is so powerful,” she explains. “When working with bands, I do a lot of prep. I learn the set list and the breakdown of each song, I walk the venues and really try to feel out the vibe of the area. It’s about knowing when to step in and when to let the moment breathe. Not just at iconic venues, but anywhere a band plays, patience for the band, for the crowd, and for the shot is key. I like to quietly observe and be ready. My goal is to add to the comfort of the situation. Be patient, be discreet, and let the moments happen naturally. Sometimes I’m right up front in full view of hundreds of people, other times you’ll never even spot me, but either way I’m doing my best to capture the real energy without disrupting it.”

Last year (2024), her work got a nod from the highest level when she was nominated for the IBMA’s first Photographer of the Year award, validating that her work is not just decoration, but documentation.

“First off, I was super stoked to hear that a Photographer of the Year category was even coming out, along with the other new categories through IBMA,” she says. “To be nominated alongside my fellow nominees in the very first running was incredibly humbling. Overall, I was happiest to see photography being officially recognized as part of bluegrass history. It’s more than just pictures; it’s the archive of our music. Growing up and traveling to festivals, I was obsessed with old photos I’d see. One-off artists collaborating, backstage moments, people just shooting the breeze and doing what they loved. That’s why that first nomination means so much to me. I feel blessed to be nominated again this year (2025). If I ever needed recognition, it would be enough to know that in 50 or 60 years, people will look back at my photos and remember the good times the same way I did with the ones that inspired me.”

Today, her camera lens is also pointed toward something new: Little Sugar Creek Farm (LSCF) in Thorntown, Indiana. Forty acres of Boone County earth, first worked in the 19th century, now getting a second life as a hub for bluegrass music, events, and even a new record label. Laci is their official photographer.

“It’s exciting and nerve-racking—but in the best way,” she says. “I still get to do things as I’ve always done as Laci Mack, Photographer, but now I’ve got an incredible company supporting me. LSCF has many phases in place to grow over the next few years. I’ve been tasked with their Hopeless Holler Trading Company. This is their new merch company that just launched in August of this year (2025), providing bluegrass merch to bands, festivals, music lovers, and everyone in between. They are currently sponsoring with the Grascals and the Po Ramblin’ Boys, so I’m sure you’ll see a lot more about Hopeless Holler on their social media."

She isn’t walking away from her bread-and-butter work — the live music, the stills for albums, the posters that show up taped to light poles before a show. She still loves it all.

“I honestly love every project I’m part of, but there’s something about wrapping up a job that just feels good,” she says. “Part of it is being proud of what we pulled off, and part is being fired up to jump into the next one. I started with a focus on festivals and live music, and that’s still where I feel most at home. I find it to be the perfect mix of bluegrass life, good people, and catching those little moments you can’t plan for.”

And maybe that’s what makes her photos feel different — they’re not just about what the audience saw but about what being there felt like. And if you’re in the audience and you catch her in your peripheral vision, quiet and steady, you might want to hold still. You’re about to become part of the archive.