Your first photographic memory, the first emotion.
At the beginning of 1970, I discovered the work of Diane Arbus at the school of fine arts library. For me it was a real revelation. At the time, I had been studying photography for five years. I had a good command of the technical functioning of the medium. But I still had no idea what the photograph meant. Of its power to prevent the world from turning long enough to reveal the extremely complex nature of the path we are on from one moment to another. Before this revelation at the library, I did not know how photography worked. And immediately after this magical immersion in the work of Arbus, I understood how serious photography was something serious.
The photographer who sparked your passion.
I was deeply impressed by the raw scientific style of her work and the exuberant narrative of her theme, all perfectly balanced in a square format. The depth of the quality of her work lies in the powerful binary character and the extraordinary density of her work. I knew I had to replace my Spotmatic with a Hasselblad as soon as I could afford it. For me, Diane was one of the greatest true artists of the 20th century.
Your first photograph.
My first photo, I took it in 1959 with the horrible Box Brownie. It’s a blurry portrait of my father and sister playing ping pong at Surfers Paradise.
Your most beautiful photographic memory.
Taking pictures of my children.
The worst photographic memory.
Having been handcuffed and arrested in Burma in 1994 for the crime of being a tourist with a camera in a city where tourists are prohibited.
Chapelle Saint-Jacques
2:30 p.m. – 6:30 p.m. closed Tuesday
www.promenadesphotographiques.com
