After a Hard Day of Photography, 2012 (photo:
Marcela Gindri)
At
one time, Francesco Scavullo was one of the world’s preeminent fashion
photographers. It’s said that he photographed anyone and everyone of
importance, from the cream of the Social Register to super models to rock stars.
Scavullo shot the nude centerfold photograph of Burt Reynolds for Cosmopolitan magazine. Even more controversial was his portrait of
the adolescent Brooke Shields in a provocatively sexual pose. His flashy, “make
love to the camera” style and rock music-infused studio sessions were the template
for Hollywood’s depictions of fashion photography for many years.
I
don’t move in that world. But by chance I did once meet the famous Scavullo.
It’s
probably closer to the truth to say that I was introduced to Francesco Scavullo. I remember meeting him. I’m sure
he didn’t remember meeting me.
In
1980, I made a work-related day trip to New York City. Seated across the aisle
from me on the plane that morning was a local guy who’d become famous for
having introduced to the United States a food-processing device that was all
the rage in Europe.
He
was also become famous hereabouts for having, as people used to put it, “marrying
well.” His wife was the daughter of a well-known industrialist and stepdaughter
of one of the richest men in America.
We
chatted on the plane and shared a cab into Manhattan. As he stepped from the
car, JK turned back and invited me to join some “friends for drinks” that night
at their apartment.
After
a day of work I felt tired and frumpy. My suit could pass for cocktail wear at
home, but not among the swell set of the Upper East Side. A rainstorm and
resulting gridlocked traffic, however, delayed my departure to the airport just
long enough for me to give a second thought to the allure of “drinks.”
If
your concept of a New York apartment is one or two cramped rooms shared with
three roommates, let me must tell you that JK’s apartment was not that kind of
place. Upon arriving, the doorman gave me a look of doubt, if not downright
disapproval. But after a call upstairs verified my legitimacy, I was escorted
to their floor—yes, they had their own
floor—and greeted by a young factotum in a white waiter’s jacket.
In
fact, there were a lot of factotums in white jackets serving food, drinks and
generally attending to the dozen or so people already there. After relieving me
of my overcoat and briefcase, I was shown into the drawing room. I mixed and
mingled as best I could. The other guests talked of places and events and
pastimes of which I knew little. My wife and I had not just closed up the summer place in Southampton. We weren’t making plans to be in Gstaad for
New Year’s Eve.
Eventually
it was time for me to leave for the airport. As I made my way to the elevator
my departure was blocked by the arrival of a flock of new guests. At the center
of the group was Francesco Scavullo. I was drawn back into the party briefly,
where I was introduced to the great photographer. He took one look at me and
barely acknowledged my offer of a handshake. Famous photographers don’t shake
hands?
As
for the picture above, a classmate in the photography workshop I recently took
in New York asked me to pose in front of (and in) the Pulitzer Fountain in front of the Plaza Hotel. What is not
visible in this picture and wasn’t apparent to me at the moment she took this
picture was that there was a small rivulet of water getting ready to pour down
my back.
What
we do for art!
Fountain
Life, 2012 (photo: Marcela Gindri)
Art is a harsh mistress...
ReplyDeleteA nice story, Chris. I continue to love seeing photos of you during and after that workshop. You look so happy... just like a big kid.
ReplyDeleteFeet in the water! Looks great! Great story, by the way. Glad you went to the party for us!
ReplyDelete