You never forget your first loves, and the two that meant the most to me when I was just starting to become seriously interested in photography were Richard Avedon and Irving Penn, the giants of post-war New York. I recently made a pilgrimage to where each of their studios had been.
The building at 80 West 40th Street that housed Irving Penn’s studio. North-facing, big windows, soft daylight.
407 East 75th Street, which was Richard Avedon’s townhouse and studio. No studio windows, all artificial light.
Some of the greatest portrait photographs ever made were taken behind these walls. The two photographers were yin and yang - Avedon a mercurial whirlwind of energy, shooting and shouting in a studio filled with thumping music, assistants and crew, while Penn had a monkish, utterly calm presence, often working alone and in near silence.
Richard Avedon by Irving Penn, 1994
Irving Penn by Bert Stern, 1962
For years I would have been hard pressed to say which of them had the most influence on me. When I was younger, it was probably Avedon - the work was flashier, harder, more immediately attention-grabbing. The oral history ’Avedon - Something Personal’ is a terrific read about an artist who never really seemed that self-assured (Alen McWeeney, an ex-assistant of his, recommended it to me by saying “it reads like a thriller”). I remember when he died in October 2004 getting a text from a photographer friend which simply said “the King is dead”.
It became clearer in 2018 when I went to see a major Penn retrospective in Paris. His work has a more classical feel, and is somehow deeper, with more mystery to it. There was no tell-all book about him - he lived simply and privately, and just seemed to keep working away with that quiet intensity. I prefer his work, because it makes me feel more.