Michael Stylist
A fine-art counterpoint — the Shakespearean turn.
In the afternoon of the same day, with the same team, we struck the grey and pulled velvet down behind her. The morning had been commercial — clean light, sculpted silhouettes, the architecture of fashion. The afternoon belonged to something else entirely. We had time and a model willing to play, so we made the work I most like to make: fine art, theatrical, painterly, indebted to the canvas before the camera.
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A new portfolio of images for the season ahead.
There is a particular discipline in photographing someone you know completely. The temptation is to soften — to default to the familiar. Sasha permits no such thing. She arrives at the studio in character, and the work becomes a negotiation between the woman I know and the woman the lens insists upon.
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