Woman in robe 1

During lunch in Red Hook with our friends Jason and Natasha, Jason mentioned a chapel around the corner where artists had moved in and divided the work space. He had walked by one day and stopped to look at the art on display outside the open doors. Danniel, above, was one of the artists. She asked them in to see the space and invited them to dinner for the following weekend. Danniel and two friends cooked four courses for seventeen people sitting at a long table. The entire chapel was lit by candlelight. Continued below next picture.

Woman in robe 2

Continued. As we left the restaurant and walked towards the chapel, Jason dialed her number, but she did not answer. He kept trying her and also pressed the doorbell... silence. He tried calling her again and this time she answered. She didn't remember him or Natasha at her dinner and told Jason she was not going to let us in. Jason spoke to her some more (I was out of earshot) and finally said to him that she was coming down. By this time I wanted to walk on and look for people to photograph. Then the door opened and this person appeared. She recognized Jason and Natasha and apologized. We stood chatting not quite believing what we saw in front of us. Caroline said to me quietly, "Aren't you going to take a picture of her?" The others dispersed and I took the photograph. "You must all come to my next dinner party." she said as we waved goodbye.

William Empson in a dressing gown

He answered the door dressed like this. I said, "Please come into the garden, stay as you are, I love what you are wearing." (Writers, and others, like to be rid of photographers as quickly as possible so he also got what he wanted.) American English and English English, so different. Dressing gown? Robe?

Sid Caesar in a robe

"He's in the pool," I was told. "Go on through; you'll find him." I stood at the edge of the pool and waived at the figure treading water. "Would you mind waiting inside, I don't have anything on." He swam for another ten minutes while I put up a light and then appeared in his robe. I said that I thought he looked just right as he was.

Manager of Goodbye Blue Monday

As we walked from the glare of the sunlit street into Goodbye Blue Monday in Bushwick, Brooklyn, NY, we could see almost nothing. A lamp glowed here and there and the vague sign of daylight showed from the end of the room. I said, "Too dark for pictures," and left.

Out in the street again, Caroline said that she thought there was a garden and went back in to find out. She returned and beckoned me in saying that there was a garden and we could get a sandwich. The garden, in fact, was a junk yard, containing amongst other articles, cast iron wood stoves, TV sets, shopping carts, hand trucks and welding equipment.

On the left was an open ended shack with a dozen folding chairs in front of a stage, and rough wooden benches down two sides. On one of these benches sat a young man in his robe and pyjamas smoking a cigarette. He introduced himself as Matthew, the manager. He told us he lived across the street and this was a night place, hardly anybody came during the day.

A photographer and his assistant were photographing a model with a head of bushy brown hair that the assistant combed and brushed a lot between shots. When it looked right, the assistant became a wind machine by vigorously flapping a piece of cardboard, no doubt found in the garden, and no larger than an 11x14 print, close to the girl's head. It was remarkably effective and spread the hair just the right amount.