This is one of my favorite portraits ever, Jodi Foster, at Smashbox Studios, assigned by the great @kathleenclarkphoto at Los Angeles Magazine. I knew I had the cover already and the inside image of Jodi with one of her closest collaborators, her script supervisor, Diane Dreyer (see following images). Sometimes on shoots if there’s time, I’ll grab some 4 x 5 images for myself. My camera is an old Crown Graphic that I have on a tripod, it’s all a bit rickety, but somehow the edge of disaster has often been where my best images have been found, a dangerously slow shutter speeds, in fluky flight. Occasionally, these kind of images have been published and sometimes not, but maybe because of that, I feel like I can be a little bit more rough and ready. This is Jodi on the floor, just inside the open garage doors at Smashbox in daylight only. By the look of her eyes, I’m bouncing some silver cards and white fill in there as well. It’s a far from perfect photo, I managed to amputate a couple of her fingers by not noticing how her hand was, it’s not perfectly sharp. But because of the actress she is, someone that has been in front of the camera’s lens since she was 5 years old, I’ve never photographed anyone that was so completely available to the process, and so completely present. To look through the lens at her was something I’ll never forget.

If you’re interested in how these kinds of images happen, I have workshops coming up for @la_centerofphoto and @santafeworkshops. Please have a look at the links in my bio.

I’ve always loved to photograph people in cars. There’s the romance of cars, of road trips, of private conversations and secrets shared. Someone once described a long talk in a car to me, eyes on the road ahead, two people locked in space, as a “rolling confessional”. And of course for many of us, there’s memories of adolescent love in the only private space available to us.

First car, first sex, first accident, first ticket, first journey across a state border. Tracy and I, bringing three days old baby Will home from hospital, driving so slowly through Griffith Park.

When I look back through my work, and my life, the car is a great through line of art and heart and adventure.

❤️ to all here @misslloren @willsoutham @sw162ty @julia_sublime @mamadish @finn_dish @harperdish @tssalter @keithurban @theoliviajordan

I was so lucky to see Philip Seymour Hoffman, Andrew Garfield and Linda Edmond in Mike Nichols’s revival of Death of a Salesman on Broadway, in 2012, two years before both Hoffman and Nichols passed away.

During the plays run, Mike Nichols said in an interview something I’ve always remembered, “We have Willy Loman; everywhere we look we see, Willy Loman. We are Willy Loman. We’re on Facebook; we need to be known; we’re selling all the time.” This idea of each of us being our own brand on social media, to both productive and destructive ends, has only intensified since then.

But what if the person we’re selling is not actually us? I’ve been thinking about these portraits I took in Las Vegas for a British magazine in 1995, of celebrity impersonators. They were all so invested in their performances, and all so good at what they did. Looking at the images again, I find myself moved by each of their commitments to creating their illusion. Heidi Thompson as Cher was especially amazing because at the Legends show, at the Imperial Palace and Casino, she sang live in a perfect version of the original. I read someone say she sounded more like Cher than Cher. The guys were all part of Frank Marino’s An Evening at La Cage show at the Riviera, where he’d signed a three month contract for a show that ran for 25 years.

In order of appearance,
1. Marilyn (I’m still trying to locate this performers name, if anyone can help me out)
2. Heidi Thompson as Cher @heidiascher
3. Carl Davidson as Madonna
4. Frank Marino as Joan Rivers @thequeenofvegas
5. Marvin Nathan as “Fat Cher”