Lately I’ve been struck with how I really love what you can’t see in a photograph. An actual physical darkness. And it’s very thrilling for me to see darkness again.
I think the most beautiful inventions are the ones you don’t think of.
The condition of photographing is maybe the condition of being on the brink of conversion to anything.
The camera is a kind of license.
And the revelation was a little like what saints receive on mountains – a further chapter in the history of the mystery.
Freaks was a thing I photographed a lot. It was one of the first things I photographed and it had a terrific kind of excitement for me. I just used to adore them. I still do adore some of them. I don’t quite mean they’re my best friends but they made me feel a mixture of shame and awe.
One thing that struck me early is that you don’t put into a photograph what’s going to come out. Or, vice versa, what comes out is not what you put in.
Ladies and Gentlemen, take my advice, pull down your pants and slide on the ice.
One thing I would never photograph is a dog lying in the mud.
Shoot for the secrets, develop for the surprises.
I think it does, a little, hurt to be photographed.
Nudists are fond of saying that when you come right down to it everyone is alike, and, again, that when you come right down to it everyone is different.
Most people go through life dreading they’ll have a traumatic experience.
Everybody has that thing where they need to look one way but they come out looking another way and that’s what people observe.
The discouragement masquerades as the impossibility.
When you’re growing up your mother says, “Wear rubbers or you’ll catch cold.” When you become an adult you discover that you have the right not to wear rubbers and to see if you catch cold or not. It’s something like that.
If I stand in front of something, instead of arranging it, I arrange myself.
Every Difference is a Likeness too.
I used to have a theory about photographing. It was a sense of getting in between two actions, or in between acton and repose.
The farther afield you go, the more you are going home... as if the gods put us down with a certain arbitrary glee in the wrong place and what we seek is who we had really ought to be.
In the beginning of photographing I used to make very grainy things. I’d be fascinated by what the grain did because it would make a kind of tapestry of all these little dots and everything would be translated into this medium of dots. Skin would be the same as water would be the same as sky and you were dealing mostly in dark and light, not so much in flesh and blood.