He was six-feet-four inches tall, gangly and awkward, all knees and elbows. He wore a suit that was so wrinkled he might have slept in it the night before. As he framed his shots, the ash from his unfiltered Pall Mall dangled dangerously over his Nikon. But his subjects barely noticed. He used a long lens, and watched them – so quietly and so patiently and from such a distance that they always forgot that he was there. That was when the magic began – when Grey Villet captured the people he had come to photograph.
This article is reserved for subscribed members only. If you are already a member, you can log in here below.
Subscribe for full access to The Eye of Photography archives!
That’s thousands of images and articles, documenting the history of the medium of photography and its evolution during the last decade, through a unique daily journal. Explore how photography, as an art and as a social phenomenon, continue to define our experience of the world. Two offers are available.
Subscribe either monthly for $5 or annually for $50 (2 months offered).