Mark Madness is a Barcelona-based photographer who has dedicated years of his work to documenting train graffiti—a practice that blends speed, tension, and raw expression. Deeply committed to analog photography, his approach is marked by an honest, precise gaze that seeks to capture the intensity of the moment without embellishment.
Far from sensationalism, Mark builds a visual narrative that stays true to the real rhythm of this underground culture. In this interview, he shares his perspective, the story behind his images, and the process of creating his new book Füü di Frei
Your work documents a culture that operates in the shadows: graffiti on trains and subways. In a medium that doesn’t allow much room for error or repetition, why do you choose analog photography over digital?
Analog photography has a unique aesthetic—a texture and character that digital can’t fully replicate. Also, the very process of shooting on film closely resembles the nature of graffiti: each shot is final, with no possibility to review the result instantly, which adds a tension and excitement that align with the essence of graffiti in action. It also forces you to be more precise and to think carefully about each frame, something crucial in situations where time is limited and lighting is not always ideal.
As a self-taught photographer, how did you develop your style and approach to documenting these actions? What influences have shaped your vision?
My style developed through trial and error on the streets—learning to read light, composition, and moments of tension within the scene. Reportage and documentary photography have been a major influence, from classics like Henri Cartier-Bresson or Martha Cooper to the rawer work of war photojournalists. Cinema has also played a big role, especially films with a dark, cinematic aesthetic, which have influenced the way I frame and visually narrate stories.
Your images blend adrenaline, aesthetics, and transgression. How do you find the balance between documentary and artistic work in your practice?
To me, the documentary and the artistic are not separate. Train graffiti is, in itself, a visual expression that mixes urgency, risk, and self-expression. My work aims to capture that without altering it—letting the scene speak for itself. The key is finding the precise moment when action, light, and composition naturally converge. I’m not trying to romanticize the scene, but I’m also not reducing it to a cold record; I try to convey the emotion of the moment.
How was the image selection process for your new book, in terms of building a narrative beyond just individual images? Was there any photo that was particularly hard to leave out?
The selection process felt natural because when I shoot on film, I put my heart into every shot. With no room for error, I discarded a few that didn’t meet the technical standard, but most came out just as I envisioned them, so the editing flowed organically.
What lessons has your experience documenting action graffiti around the world taught you? What advice would you give to young photographers wanting to follow in your footsteps?
The biggest lesson has been the importance of patience, discretion, and respect for the scene. Photographing the "trainwriting" world isn’t just about capturing striking images—it’s about understanding the culture, its code, and the risk it involves for those who practice it. For anyone wanting to follow this path, I’d say take the time to truly know the environment before snapping a shot, develop your eye through street photography, and always prioritize safety—both yours and that of those you're documenting. And above all, enjoy the process without losing authenticity.
