Our new friend

We became friends sitting round a table for 8 at the annual farmers' market dinner in Garrison. The table was nearest the bar and furthest from the band.  2 weeks later he and his wife and their 2-year-old arrived at the studio punctually at eleven. 

Same girl, different chicken

Same girl eighteen months older, different chicken in new location. Daylight from windows down the entire side of an old carriage house: my studio until my fingers freeze to the camera.

The shot I missed was of her father carrying the chicken in a cage covered with a scarlet cloth across a wide lawn in the rain.

Assistant

This photograph was taken in 1986. It is a Polaroid of my assistant at the time. A year later we were married. It was taken in my studio on Lafayette Street, NYC and was the first photograph I took of her. Caroline loves to take pictures herself now and last week I assisted her—mostly carrying the tripod and camera bag.

Young chef

I sat in my studio of the day (a 40ft potting shed lit by a bank of windows down one entire side), waiting for Laura to finish preparing cucumbers in the kitchen where she works at the Garrison Institute. She walked in and stood in front of me. "Where do you want me?"

"There, by that pile of bricks. Stand there, just the way you are standing now."

George Carlin

Our 20 year-old son Nicholas left for Heavenly, Lake Tahoe, California 2 days before the storm. He said he was now ready to live alone, away from home, because he had listened to Mr. Carlin's monologues. These, he said, had equipped him with the wisdom to enable him to live a prosperous and fulfilling life. We left on the best of terms because I told Nicholas how much I had enjoyed my hour with Mr. Carlin in 1985. I have now begun to listen to the broadcasts on YouTube myself, and although I recently had my 79th birthday, I may still be able to benefit from some of Mr Carlin's perception.

Waiting for winter

At the waterfall towards the end of summer before darkness and chill take over, when companionship, fires, candlelight and books will keep us charged.

Romanian artists

I went to photograph a Romanian artist in Newburgh, NY but found two—both sculptors and brothers.    

Constantin, on the right, said, "I knew it was time to leave Romania when my 6 year-old daughter came home from school one day and reported that her teacher had told her that   the President was her father and the President's wife was her mother." That was thirty years ago.

By plane from Romania, Constantin landed in Florida. "I breathed the air and took the next plane out. It happened to be going to Whitehorse in Canada, on the borders of Alaska. I spent three or four happy days in an igloo. I wanted to stay but my wife did not."


Constantin makes a parachute jump once a month. "Just for the thrill of it. My wife doesn't like me to do it."

 

American soldier

Constantin Radu: "My studio is full of all sorts of crazy things, but I don't like modern. Two railway tracks like this." He raised his arms and crossed them in front of his body and shook his head.

Grey and gold

Humid day in Newburgh.