Bianca came and sat under the spotlight and looked at me and leaning forward whispered “Are you ok Clive, you look a bit spaced out?” “I am, we were at an all weekend party madness and I’m still waiting for it to wear off” I whispered back “ I understand” she said with a knowing smile.
At this point Rachel walked in and I think she thought I was the set builder as I extended my paint-splattered hand. Which she looked at and politely refused to shake as I said, “I’m Clive, I’m the photographer”. I was completely amazed by how naturally beautiful and stunning she was and for a moment I didn’t know what to say, which is very unusual for me.
I was really touched by this wonderful American landscape photographer Christopher Burkett who has devoted himself to the mediation of photography and transferred these visions into stunning images.
Eventually as the V8 sounds faded my shouts were heard and he looked up from under the bonnet, his hands covered in oil and his face smeared too and said “Oh, Hi Clive, my manager said you’d be coming down”
Being in the theatre immediately inspired me (probably wrongly) to enthusiastically instruct the models using clichés such as, “Wonderful my Darling hearts”, “Fabulous my luvvies” and “It’s a triumph!”
It reminds me of Marlon Brando’s remark from On The Waterfront, when a character says “Are you looking for trouble” and Brando replies “What have you got?”. Mick looked like a streetwise New Yorker, who was ahead of the game. He certainly didn’t look like a quiet working class lad from Hull (in the North of England).
Darcey followed my very clumsy instructions of various ballet forms which I attempted to physically articulate myself, much to the hilarity and amusement of all those present in the studio including Darcey herself, who at various points laughed so much we had to pause.
The assistant came back out and said in a shocked tone “He’s sticking them on Roys face!” I said “Really, not pinning them into his skin surely”. He said “I don’t know”
I then nervously poured a large bottle of Perrier all over her head. Through the spluttering cascade of Perrier water she said ‘You bastard”, I said ‘No, wait, trust me, don’t get angry”
As we were leaving David asked me if I would like to go with him to the Samye Ling Tibetan Buddhist Temple in Scotland. He said “It’s only £2.50 for the weekend”