Douglas Cooper London 1983
I Remember:
My photography life has felt like 10,000 days of the young Charlie Bucket. The wide eyed child awed in thrilling disbelief entering Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory is actually me every time I reflect on how fortunate I was when I had the privilege to enter the world’s kingdom of fabulous art.
From the very first art world portrait (Willem de Kooning) I made, the doors of museums, galleries and artist studios were opened wide for my eyes to embrace. My archives are my evidence that I have lived a life filled with an infinite amount of sublime good fortunes.
London is an odd city. It is a profound city. British culture bleeds from every corner. Shakespeare whispers sweet mayhem in every breath. Plumed chests embody every loyalist. You cannot ignore the pride and prejudice that make make Britain/London an extraordinary adventure.Yes, somehow James Bond, the Magna Carte, Henry the 8th’s wives and xke’s marry this exceptional episode.
The 1983 morning I walked into London’s Tate Britain a hive of five centuries of art history. I was there for a magazine to photograph one of the great Cubism collectors, Douglas Cooper. Cooper was not merely a collector, but a curator, a critic, and a friend to Picasso, Leger, Miro, Braque, Dali and so many more.
Time has allowed my photography to stitch together a cultural weave of the 20th century. My images have become a dialogue. Photography is a record of “us”.
In a small way my history begins with a handshake and a tour of Cooper’s collection.
We bonded instantly. He was genuine. He was a storyteller. He shared funny stories about artist’s behavior. He shared the revolving playground at his chateau that would put most bacchanalian parties to shame.
For a young photographer, stories about a bounty of naked famed art personalities chasing around Cooper’s exotic well seasoned chateau in Provence was a life experience by itself.
Cooper arched his eyebrow. Before he continued with his stories I could tell he wanted to be certain that I knew the people he knew, the “right people. A funny protocol one learns along the way.
John Richardson New York 1983
The quiz began: “You do know John Richardson? (the famed Picasso biographer and Cooper’s ex lover).You are acquainted with John Russell and Rosamond Bernier? (the New York Times critic and his wife the famed art lecturer)”. He continued to casually quiz me about numerous “right stuff” people until he was satisfied I myself was the “right stuff”. It is a funny window into privacy, that is truly not private.
He continued to share his art history with me. I won the lottery. He opened up about so many more people and places. Chapters of his personal art storybook were mine. I momentarily felt like a melting harlequin in a Dali painting. I was engulfed in hazy colors and art folklore.
Life’s experiences continue to arm me for another day.
Then he said something quite surprising. He wanted me to extend my stay in London so that he might introduce me to some people of interest. At that point one learns that when people open the door to their world, your world is exponentially enhanced.
John Russel and Rosalind Bernier 1983 New York
Cooper mentioned Roland Penrose (Surrealist artist and author) and Lee Miller(famed mid century photographer) among many others. “You have to meet my friends”. Suddenly London became a new treasure trove of art history delights. I have been blessed with cultural delights.
Our session ended for the day, but a new life was burgeoning.