When I first came to New York as a country bumpkin Art Kane was the enfant terrible art director and later the wunderkind commercial photographer of his generation. The Art Director’s Club had announced a demonstration by leading graphic designers at one of their evenings, which was open to the public. I went eagerly hoping to glimpse Peck’s Bad Boy. Which one was he I wondered? When I saw a man wearing a blue shirt with an orange tie in the midst of a sea of black suits with white shirts and ties, I realized it must be he.
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