This picture was taken at the height of Schnabel's fame as a painter; 1986, I think. Although we spoke on the telephone a couple of times after the sitting, we lost touch. I gave him a print of the photograph and he said that he thought he looked a bit fat.
Four or five years ago, Caroline and I walked into the stage door of Town Hall after a concert given by our friend Richard Butler. On the way in, a large, slightly dishevelled, bearded man, distinguished looking nevertheless, said good evening to me. I did not know who he was and left it at that; and after he said good evening again, this time adding my name, I started to worry that he was somebody I should know. But I could not for one moment think who it was. I asked Annie, Richard's wife at the time, and she said, "That's Julian Schnabel." I went up to him, put my arm around his shoulder and apologized. "It was the beard that fooled me," I said.
He was polite, but I knew he was offended. Like Orson Welles, though, I think he would be good in his own movies. He had matured into a very impressive looking man, far more impressive than the youngish one I had photographed twenty years earlier.