Mark Bankoff remembers feeling like an outsider when his family moved from Chelsea to Lynnfield in 1955. He was seven years old, Jewish, and new to a town where few people looked or lived like him. “Even at 7, I knew things were a little bit different,” he said. But when he made the Little League team, the neighborhood lines faded. “After that, I was in.”
Baseball became a lifelong bond. He played through high school and into college. Years later, his son would go on to play the sport too, and his daughter found her own rhythm in softball. Family and baseball remained cornerstones — threads woven through both his personal life and his photography.
Bankoff’s path to medicine wasn’t straightforward. He once considered advertising and even thought about applying to West Point. But a summer visit to Dartmouth College sealed his decision. He enrolled, graduated, and — facing the uncertainty of the Vietnam War era — chose to pursue medical school at Tufts. His son would eventually attend Tufts as well, and his daughter followed in his footsteps to Dartmouth.
Radiology wasn’t the original goal. Bankoff began in internal medicine and considered a cardiology fellowship, but pivoted after a brief detour. He soon became a pioneer in his field. “I was the first guy at my hospital to start doing lung and liver biopsies using CT guidance,” he said. The role gave him what he needed: focused technical work and meaningful, manageable patient interaction. “I could talk any person into calmness,” he said. “Some people can’t do that.”
Photography had always run in the background. His first camera — a Kodak Instamatic, a gift from his sister—was a constant companion in college. He snapped photos of friends, parties, and teammates before games. “Looking back, I probably should’ve taken more batting practice,” he said with a laugh. “But now those photos are treasured.”
That instinct to document never left. Over the years, Bankoff has captured birds, lighthouses, New England landscapes, family moments, and neighborhood scenes. His work has been exhibited at the Lynnfield and Rockport Art Guilds, which he joined around his retirement in 2015–16. He shoots primarily on a Canon R7 with a 100–500mm lens, often reaching 800mm thanks to the crop sensor. “It’s lighter, which matters at my age,” he said.
He has little interest in flashy edits. “I want the photo to look how I saw it,” he said. “I’ll crop or tweak exposure, but I don’t turn the sky some fake hyper-blue.” His images often reflect quiet beauty — a lighthouse cloaked in fog, a curious bird frozen mid-perch.
One of his largest photo projects, in fact, was visiting and photographing all 30 major league ballparks with his son. “We did the Midwest loop — seven nights, six games,” he said. They eventually circled back to some of the stadiums to get elevated shots behind home plate. “Then we switched to lighthouses. My wife wasn’t into the baseball plan, but she liked the lobster dinners.” He estimates they’ve photographed more than 40 lighthouses — often followed by seafood.
Bankoff’s family has long been his muse. He’s photographed his grandchildren, helped neighbors document milestones during the pandemic, and even shot a local bar mitzvah — twice. “I didn’t want any money for it,” he said. “But they insisted, so I gave it to the kid as a gift.” His most cherished photos aren’t from stadiums or coasts, but close to home. “My grandson fell asleep on my lap after watching the train set. He had this big smile on his face. Money can’t buy that.”
Trains are another lifelong love. As a boy in Chelsea, Bankoff once tried to wire a toy locomotive by stripping an extension cord and attaching it directly to the track. “It flew off, hit the wall, and blew a fuse,” he said. “I never told my parents what happened.” That passion never left. He built an elaborate train layout for his son — who wasn’t particularly interested — but his grandson now runs the show. “He tells me which train goes where.”
He’s also donated several framed prints to a Tufts clinic where he used to consult, including a bird photograph he counts among his favorites. “The bird photo ended up in the private consultation room,” he said proudly. “It looks right at the chair where the patient sits. I like to think it offers a bit of peace.”
Though he’s not formally trained in fine arts, Bankoff has developed a clear style and presence. He’s sold prints at art shows, made calendars, and given away more photos than he can count. “I’ve given away more prints than I’ve sold. If someone loves it, that means more than money.”
For Bankoff, photography isn’t just about the shot — it’s about being present. “It keeps me sane,” he said. “If things are bugging me, I take the camera, go into the woods, and I feel better.”
