10.07.09 Irving Penn dies

When I was given, early in my first year of art school, a Minolta SRT 101 camera in 1970 by my father, it was Irving Penn who was taking my breath away. I loved the work of many photographers. I came to know the best the world had to offer through the Time Life Photography Series, beautifully bound books that I ordered and waited for. It took three months for the book to reach South Africa by ship. I pored over each page. I learned their names and their work. I gathered it up in a dust-storm in my mind and I went out shooting with my camera. With only thirty six exposures before arduous darkroom hours began, I chose each shot with care before I was inside that viewfinder, all thought having left my mind. I struggled to get a print that was scratch free let alone attempt to achieve the mad graphic intensity of an Irving Penn. I studied graphic design and Penn was one of my master instructors, showing not only the way up the hill, but how to leap off the edge and remain barely in control. I discovered over the years new heroes and masters every few months or even weeks, and some gathered in the back of my mind to stay, but Irving Penn loomed in front of that gang, merciless in his imaginary accusations at seeing tame work, at being afraid, at following leaders. If you were a young and strong designer or photographer you knew to go near Penn was to go through the fear. And once there, to collect every scrap of discipline and romance, and heart and guts and steel to make sure your vision held it’s shape. He looked upon life with humor and grace and though I never met the man, I have no doubt he was a gentleman. Thanks for the work sir! You were the best.