A Century of Iconic Artists…Jasper Johns

I remember days and faces. But I share my blogs to remember names and places. Staring into space with a bit of askance, I begin to imagine what a half century of photography will look like. So many people wanted to know what my camera has witnessed. I merely wanted to experience life’s challenges. That is what I have relished most. Now you can see what my camera saw. I remember one day walking down a curious street near Central St. Giles in London. I had a bit of yawn in me. Looking through the corridors of eighteenth century London real estate I could see the colors of architect Renzo Pianos new complex. I quickly picked up my pace. I passed the George Frideric Handel-Jimi Hendrix building on Brook Street. Mesmerizing musical notes filled the dreamy skies. My exhausted feet began to feel a bit of a pulse. I moved over to Denmark Street. As I momentarily turned my gaze, I saw my reflection in the window of a guitar shop. The street was filled with music shops. Denmark Street is host to ghosts of Rock and Roll (Bowie, Stones, Hendrix, Beatles and more). The swirling Rock faces enticed and teased me to play air guitar. My heart was brimming with a new found passion as I imagined jamming with Hendrix on his majestry “Electric Ladyland” album. My feet had liftoff. I was inspired again. The vivid dream came to a halt. My eyes widened as I looked beyond my reflection and saw a painted American flag among a wall of guitars. Certainly an oddity. It was a Jasper Johns’ flag series poster. I emotionally found myself in a cultural columnar vortex. My woven world of cultural phenomenons who have graced my films were appearing before my eyes. My portrait of Jasper Johns was seemingly suddenly filling the storefront reflection. I know this was a wild flurry of past and present playing tricks. What better reason to play air guitar 🎸 awhile longer. Maybe a bit of “Purple Haze”. Maybe I will see a bit more magical realism. Early magic in my life came to fruition when I met the famed art dealer Leo Castelli for a portrait session. In my career, I have photographed more than fifty art dealers. But Leo was special. One of the first things he said when we met was “what can I do for you?” Leo’s stable of artists was historically one of the great panoply of art and artists in the second half of the 20th century. He represented Johns, Warhol, Kelly, Oldenburg, Rauschenberg, Ruscha, and so many more. Our first afternoon together after the shooting session, he pulled out the proverbial silver platter. He said “I will pay you X amount$$ to photograph the artists I represent: The Beatles were referred to as the fab 4, I got the fab 25 and more. Leo’s gesture was beyond princely at that time in my career. I had struck gold. Today, that past life might look glorious. I was trying to climb Mt. Everest or merely get recognized in the photography world. I hoofed it and hoofed it from session to session. So many of my New York art subjects were here and there: Soho or 57th street, Brooklyn, Queens, uptown, downtown. I would tote my equipment and my portfolio up and down the stairs of one loft building or another. I looked exhausted everywhere I went. But then came Jasper. I was running late for my photo session. I couldn’t find a taxi. Essex and Houston was a hike. I arrived at the studio. I wasn’t prepared to see what I could see. This was my first bank/studio! Who has a bank to paint in? Jasper Johns. I entered the studio huffing and puffing. The studio assistant let me know that Jasper was upset. But for one of the best minutes in my life, nothing mattered. I spun round and round. My bags looked like copter propeller blades spinning. I let my eyes roam the expansive conical shaped ceiling. Suddenly there was a cool breeze emanating from a mysterious place. Apparently a draft filtering downward from the ceiling was cooling my anxious emotional jets. I seemed to have found peace of mind under an imagined 10,000 acre groves of conical canopy of cedars of Lebanon from Biblical times. I was home in this element. I was alive. Jasper Johns one of the worlds most famous artists, walked up to me. We shook hands. He managed the most gratifying words one person can embrace: “You are one of us, that is why I am doing this”. The words at that time had been spoken a few times. It took me years to understand them. I have photographed this incredible artist a couple of times. The first session was filled with youthful exuberance. The second ten years later felt like two old warhorses reminiscing. It was the first session where I realized that my tribal dancing throughout the artist’ space was about conjuring ghosts from present and past memories for my visual ideas. Memories come to life. Ideas follow. We, like many of my prior portrait sessions spoke about the art world figures I was fortunate to have photographed. More importantly he said, “You have seen so much. A treasure trove of artists lives live in your head”. Yes the lives of artists do live in my head and on my film. The images have become like a vintage wine. I feel the depth of time, the history of a life lived. It is an enduring memory, it was a magical time.