Wednesday, June 03, 2009
fashion is perverse. he said.
go pam gooooooooooo. further. higher. lift that leg...and now the other. fly. because you can.
the year that i was born is when he was assisting for french and italian vogue.
"i am a photographer, that can shoot fashion. i never aimed to be a fashion photographer. i am trained, i am creative, and i am good."
he is. good at least.
"juergen and i often talk about the proper formula for becoming successful. the answer is that there is none. although i will say, partnerships help. venetia changed
i propped myself in the windowsill of his 22nd floor apartment. he walked over to close the window, explaining that it makes him nervous when women sit so high up next to open air.
"pamela, its been a very long time. you look different. last time i saw you, i was still with my girlfriend. ugh, that woman. soooooo long ago"
he asks that i wait for a moment while he finishes tinkering with the images projecting over his two massive monitors. i sit and look at the table filled with the comp cards of prepubescent models. his two packs of cigarettes. his stark white sheets. his bookshelf filled with equipment. his shiny hardwood floors.
"i'm so tired of this. i am not this young generation, and i will not pretend that i am. i can't just shoot any old thing. i am tired of shooting these young girls that haven't yet lived and can't convey life experience. there are few that i believe. ...sure i have crushes on them, big crushes..but that's physical, it has nothing to do with my work. "
"my two biggest advertising clients went bankrupt. my major parisian magazine that i worked for has a new editor-in-chief, and she is bringing in her own teams of people. work that has sustained me for years has now collapsed. i have no clue how to move backwards and start over. i don't even remember what the beginning looks like."
"when i saw your email and you said that you want your images to provoke a deeper conversation...those words struck a chord with me. i am so done with this industry. i just want to create good work...and not be alienated because its not some baby girl
that has no tits looking drunk under a high flash"
i said "word. so moving forward what are we shooting?"
"get clothes. and let's make a story. i'll get us a believable model. and she will know how to speak english...or at least french. jesus, i love the look of the russians, but if i get sent another girl that can't utter her name i will pass out. and no egos. i am so tired of all these insecure crazies. i am not using that german girl for hair again...i could care less if you styled for the last miu miu show. these people are so stupid. so yes. you get clothes and that's from where we will move forward."
"sounds good to me"
"but wait. question pamela..."
"what is your background?"
"ummm, in regards to what?"
"where are you from?"
laughing. "oh. well my parents are from north carolina" laughing harder "i am from maryland"
"oh. ...you're just american, american"
"yup...that's just what i am. i suppose i am so much so that you have to say it twice"
he laughed. kissed my cheeks. and watched me walk down the hall.