Necessity makes even the timid brave.
If you've seen my books through the years, I've always been a storyteller.
At the end of the day, what I show is real life. I tell the truth. And the truth can be shocking.
I've always been interested in people that you wouldn't see otherwise. If you look back at my books, photographs, and films-and since I'm doing this retrospective I've been forced to look back-the work is always about a small group of people who are somewhat isolated, and who you would never see if I didn't film or photograph them.
I just happened to have my camera and be photographing my friends. It was totally innocent; there was no purpose to the photographs. There was a purity to them that wasn’t planned; it was realism.
I tell people to frame the picture. Make the greatest, most perfect composition you can. . . and then take a step forward. It skews it a bit and makes it more interesting.
I just happened to have my camera and be photographing my friends. It was totally innocent; there was no purpose to the photographs. There was a purity to them that wasn't planned; it was realism. Over the years, the work has changed for me. I know that I have wanted to repeat myself, but I can't. I've been lost a lot of times, but then I'd just get an idea and photograph it. Once I'd started, I'd know exactly what would go down and how it would end. So I just quit doing it, because it loses all interest for me when you know what's going to happen.
I shall speak of how melancholy and utopia preclude one another. How they fertilize one another. . . of the revulsion that follows one insight and precedes the next. . . of superabundance and surfeit. Of stasis in progress. And of myself, for whom melancholy and utopia are heads and tails of the same coin.
Harold, like the rest of us, had many impressions which saved him the trouble of distinct ideas.
Life tends to be an accumulation of a lot of mundane decisions, which often gets ignored.
Why in God's name should a God be praised if he is only performing his Godly function?