Germaine Greer

It is the 40th Anniversary of the publication of "The Female Eunuch". Loved in London, where she appears regularly on TV shows, now hardly known here. I never meet anybody who has read her books, but after forty years "The Female Eunuch" is still in print. Not bad.

I remember her clearly; quick, funny, friendly, but very serious about her believes. Did not at all mind moving furniture with me to get a clearer view by the window. Never cared much about what she wore. She wears simple and comfortable clothes, and occasionally, in her youth, removed them for a photographer. She seldom dressed up for them.

Julian Schnabel

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.

Abandoned tennis court

I was going to call this "The State of British Tennis" until Murray beat Federer in the finals of the Shanghai Masters the other day, so I'd better be careful. We'll see.

Artist in leather

Jason Ross with his vintage machine. He makes jewelry, belts, wallets and bags in leather. He bought the machine for $50 from a shoe maker in Philadelphia who told him that it did not work and why. Jason took it home and found that the shoe maker's diagnosis was wrong. All it needed was a replacement cotter pin. He learnt how to shape, form and hammer leather on YouTube.

Jason lives with Natasha Chekoudjian in one of Red Hook's converted factory gems. It overlooks Coffey Park where they walk their white American bull dog, Stella. I tried to photograph all three of them earlier this year but it did not work. Got some good shots of Stella and our Louis on another occasion though. August Sander took some good ones of men with dogs.

Leather worker's tools

Jason has recently had a surge in orders for his work and has taken on helpers. From an early age he had experience with production. His father manufactured pushpins and allowed his son to roam the factory. Click here for Jason's website.

Jason Ross and Natasha Chekoudjian

Jason and Natasha in the hallway of their building in Red Hook. Natasha is wearing a dress that she designed and jewelry designed by Jason.

Girl in truck

As I drove through Jonesport, Maine on the way to the ferry that would take us to Norton Island, Caroline spotted this girl standing by a red truck. This shows clearly the value of having help from one with sharp eyes attuned to those of the photographer's. We were not able to stop without the risk of missing the ferry, but as we drove by two days latter there she was, this time sitting in the truck with a male friend. "I think they live in it." Caroline said. I should have asked but was too excited over getting the picture and left smartly handing them my card. Sometimes I have the feeling that subjects have the power to take the picture back.

Witch with her daughter

Writers enjoying the quiet and undisturbed natural surroundings of Norton Island, home of the Norton Island Writers Residency Program, might have seen additional guests there last week in the form of a witch from the nineteenth century and a botanists from today. It was late in the season though, and most writers were back at their desks at home or in their colleges. But next summer, those lucky enough to be chosen for the two weeks of residency, might hear bird songs turning to screams and the locked doors of their cabins opening in the night. NORTON ISLAND RESIDENCY PROGRAM NORTON ISLAND RESIDENCY

Shipwreck

They wanted to show that a shipwreck had happened on the nearby rocks. Driftwood on the beach was tossed into the water by the director and producer and photographed in close-up swirling and bobbing in the foam.

Tree roots, Norton Island

On the witch's trail, Norton Island, Maine