A Master of 20th Century: My afternoon in Man Ray’s Studio</strong>

I remember.

I was walking along with the Director of The State Hermitage Museum in 1985. Saint Petersburg was still. The museum was closed. Not a whisper, only the sounds of two pairs of shoes pacing through the galleries. We were on our way to the Gold Room. I suddenly stopped and made a perfect 360 pirouette. My equipment in tow, spun around like helicopter rotor blades preparing for takeoff. The whole nano second allowed me to realize (like other grand museums I have photographed) that I was alone with some of the greatest examples of art history.

There is the obvious pleasure of privilege. But more importantly, these moments are what I get to take to my grave. I get to live and relive a lifetime of experiences.

The art in museums that I have caressed with my fingertips live in The Louvre,

The Tate, The Met, The Prado and many more. But only the tiny studio at 2 bis rue Ferou in Paris has taken my breath away.

I have admired dozens of photographers/artists in my life. It is Man Ray’s life and work that has been most inspirational to me.

I was early for my appointment. So I strolled through the Luxembourg Gardens. I imagined what Seurat or Van Gogh saw before me. I found that my anticipation for my visit to the studio eclipsed any sightings I hoped to conjure up.

Man Ray’s wife Juliet greeted me on a beautiful spring afternoon in 1983. Man Ray had passed in 1976.

Juliet invited me in.The aged beauty took my hand. She was naked before my eyes, but not. I have wanted to have these experiences everyday of my life. I have wanted to hear the life experiences of others. I dreamed of living in a page in Vasari’s “The Lives of Artists. This moment was quietly touching my dream. I was ecstatic. My eyes glanced in every direction. For a moment I felt that I was a prop in a surreal dream. I tried to absorb the artists’ life.

I breathed.

Surrealism is a waltz with the mind. It is a human experience that summons exploration. This Man Ray space was the dream I have dreamed about for a lifetime. Yes I was 20 something.

We sat next to each other on the sofa. The studio unfurled before me. I adored every facet of the space.

Juliet turned to me and asked if I would like some coffee? And asked If I would like to see pictures of her when she was young and beautiful? While she prepared the coffee, Juliet landed on my lap the most beautiful book of nudes I have ever seen. Twenty nude portraits that made me tear. I realized I would never make something so beautiful in my career.

With coffee in hand, she turned each page. From the very first image she spoke about Mans’ photographic intentions. As each image appeared there was this quivering I couldn’t explain. I was young, but greatness unfolded before my eyes.

I asked if I could wander around the studio. I needed to see the space. I needed to stand away. I needed to imagine how Man Ray might have worked.

Minutes later I made my move. “Are you ready?” I asked.

I nervously suggested that she place one of Man’s masks on.

My time as a photographer disappeared before a magician could say “presto”.

I felt like Mathias Rust landing in Red Square. Everything was more than I could imagine. Life was bigger than I was. I made a photograph.Maybe I am a footnote in some book somewhere.

I didn’t want to leave, but soon I was gone.

That year in Paris was probably the most significant year in my career. That afternoon with Juliet was something more.