Even when I asked her if I could pour water over her head. She said yes and then my assistant was duly instructed to stand on a tall ladder and sprinkle water over her.
Warhol was a man of few words and wielded an antique polaroid camera and insistently took polaroids which he then dropped on the floor, without looking at them. I said ‘Are you going to open the polaroids Andy? He said, ‘No, I like them to cook because the colour becomes more intense.’
Zandra is a major talent as well as being a very bright, approachable and affable lady. The Fashion and Textile Museum (London) are currently exhibiting Zandra Rhodes: Fifty Years of Fabulous from now until the end of January 2020. I recommend you go along and see the gowns in real life, I say this unreservedly the gowns are works of art.
I always like casting shadows in my pictures and not just casting light, which is something that I don’t think people think about closely enough. There is always the moment of the big reveal that has the most incredible power and dynamism.
Sometimes we’re too eager to press the shutter and take the picture straight away without realising that it is a silent image. Its voice speaks through the final photograph.
I could never recall seeing pictures of her laughing so I was hoping that it would be a fun shoot and it turned out to be great.
I dashed into the knee deep water and she got out of the chair and across the sodden set and flung herself at me nearly knocking us both into the fast flowing stream that now had changed into a torrent. Peter grabbed my hand and pulled Geschi and me onto the bank. While the client looked on in dismay as the set floated down stream
I am delighted to announce my first solo US exhibition at Holden Luntz Gallery in Palm Beach, Florida which to my … More
The wonderful and gifted British Vogue editor Grace Coddington myself, model Anne Schaufuss (my then love and muse) and Willie Christie (my erstwhile assistant) set off early one morning in my custom red Gordon Keeble sports car (with a Chevy engine) for Deauville.
My assistants placed the improvised cross on my shoulders and helped me down from the top studio down to Beatrice Millers office, where she was conducting a meeting with a dignitary from the National Portrait gallery. Spurred on by tequila I burst into the office, one foot in the bucket of pink yoghurt, which splashed across the newly carpeted floor;