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779.9391 A948av

Avedon--photographs 1947-1977 • RDM

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 DENVER
PUBLIC L IBRARY

AUG 1979
CTTY a COUNTY OF DENVER
I once b e g a n a story almost in this way:

Marcus Weill, the p h o t o g r a p h e r , has said he is chiefly c o n c e r n e d in his p h o t o g r a p h s

with how we live considering that t h e r e is death. I would say his t h e m e is that most of
o u r virtues and arts have to do with the f e a r of death. H e believes that we flee f r o m
seriousness and logic b e c a u s e seriousness and logic remind us that we will die. But il-
logic and frivolity say nothing m a k e s m u c h sense, that a m u s e m e n t is beauty and truth,
that nothing is worth grief or is certain, not even death. He thinks we look at every face
to see if it alone is p e r f e c t e n o u g h or clever e n o u g h to help us escape a sense of worth-
lessness or of u n u s e d time. Or if it is a rival. Or is t h e hint of a life we might have had or
might yet have. H e quotes Robert H e r r m a n n , the emigre philosopher: " M y life's work
is to d e m o n s t r a t e not Euclidean but mortal g e o m e t r y . " He said to me it was a truism
that a p h o t o g r a p h , like flesh or love, is a clock. H e r r m a n n has written, " T h e r e are a
h u n d r e d axioms in the mortal geometry that have to do with games, with clocks and
fashions, to m a k e time seem pleasurable for a while, that use a quarrel or t e m p e r a m e n t
or the flash of a talent to drown the noise of the clocks in the room. . . . P e r h a p s the
rich and beautiful and talented h a t e time the most. . . .** Marcus has p h o t o g r a p h s of
women in tears, women with dizzying smiles of c o n f u s e d meaning, women dancing: and
in these p h o t o g r a p h s there a r e often no walls, and no real shadows, just now and then,
in the angles and points of a composition, a scarf or a face, a fish snout of terror, a
crease of agitation, a clear statement of folly and of pride. I once saw him m a k e a tired
model shout, " A h God I am so h a p p y , " and crazed with exhaustion and careful pretti-
ness she suddenly realized she almost meant it. He took the picture then.
H e is a Jew.

And so on.
 Time. Oh, yes. You see, well, the question is often time.
Time as wreckage, time as threat, time as obscurity. No one can tell us what time is. It
isn't a single p u l s e — t i m e varies by h u m a n measurements other than our sense of it, our
amusement or boredom; in a sense, time is local; each of us is born into a private envelope of
t i m e — t i m e in some f o r m is sewn to each atom; whatever it is that time does, it does it to
everything: words, childhood and children, manuscripts, lips. Much of what we do not do
well or fail in, we a r e constrained to by lack of time to do otherwise. A common statement of
d i s m a y — a n d of intelligence—is If only I had a little more time.
In dreams and visions, we find a time which does not belong to the time of the world in
which we will die: this is a silkier time: our dreaming minds invent a time for us untied to
anything but our life's meanings, and t h e duration of such time has only to do with stories we
tell ourselves. T h e word dream is almost always in our mouths a t e r m of praise. The dress is a
dream. The hook is a dream, It seems like a dream to experience this. Look: all your dreams
have come true.

Is time painful? For a child in front of a mirror, a child alone in a field? T h e slow time
in a child's mirror, the questions, the helplessness; the child runs: we act. Fashion, as a verb:
someone makes something. Some artifacts a r e made to suggest that present time is unlike
any time that is past, to suggest that F a t e has taken a new turn, that we will be unlike what
older people were; or we take older objects and imagine virtues in the p a s t — d e a d or stilled
v i r t u e s — a n d we reform, we reverse time, rescue those virtues (we think) and objects, we
hint that time m a k e s beauty, proves value. Neither an emotion nor a pyramid, not beauty,
not elephants can sustain the weight of time: our emotions change and we don't quite
r e m e m b e r — w e d o n ' t know what the truth is here. Objects, feelings, g e s t u r e s — o u r moods,
our e m o t i o n s — a s we express them or name them, are fashion. Fashion, as a noun, means
things that have been m a d e for us to use as we try to live now.
Fashion is u s — t r y i n g to live.

Fashion, as a noun, can mean a way, anyone's way of doing anything. Or it can mean us
joined t o g e t h e r only uncertainly in common methods of attempt. Style, austere or not, is an
attempt at superiority to immediate time; it is more useful fashion, fashions strung together
or combined in a grace or contract of rebelliousness against too-short-a-time—we need to
assert ourselves so we can have a sense of personal will in the face of time, a sense of per-
sonal worth then. A style is difficult to judge unless one has time. Often history mocks it, re-
verses itself, restores it. Usually, to say a style for now is to j o k e — b i t t e r l y — o r to intend
a swindle. Style—elegance or b e a u t y — t h o s e words used a certain way are words for
salesmen.
 B in a n o t h e r sense they describe an art.
vie, realistically, is a perception of hope, of a triumph of a kind.
Within t h e propositions and extent and grossness of time.

T h e a m o u n t of a m a k e r ' s life and care, time of that sort, with which an object is in-
v e s t e d — w h e n it is f a s h i o n e d — m a t c h e s t h e approximately similar time and care we t a k e in
looking at it, in valuing it. Such a symmetry exists but not exactly. Something sketched or
p h o t o g r a p h e d , apparently quickly, may include years, so that a f t e r the first comprehension,
which may be as quick as a c a m e r a s h u t t e r ' s closing, which may indicate time is being con-
q u e r e d with efficiency, with technology, a p h o t o g r a p h may be seen to have a f u r t h e r and al-
most hidden order of time's quality in it, something that provokes a second and, in a sense,
an endless look.
It gives us an image.

I want to say that in a p h o t o g r a p h there is a r o m a n c e of magical c a p t u r e that deludes

and e n c h a n t s t h e h u n t i n g and scavenging animal in the h u m a n viewer.
Our lives, if o u r attention is caught, if we are hectored by self-examination, b e c a u s e of
a hideous agony of love, say, we see that our lives c o n f u s e us; and memory, in spite of ana-
lysts and P r o u s t , does not explain m u c h or hardly anything: life is not explicable: what would
m a k e it so? O u r own cleverness? Ah, I haven't that sort of pride. Our narratives are, I think,
without m u c h sense and are, t h e r e f o r e , a s t o n i s h i n g — l i k e a novel: I could tell you things
and you could make them into a book that would get you a fortune. . . .
Our senses and minds cannot grasp a present m o m e n t either: we say, "Christ, I'm
going c r a z y , " we feel so harassed. We cannot, except willfully, m a k e sense of anything.
A f t e r all, actuality is not sane: what principle would m a k e it sane or a r r a n g e it sanely? It is
what we do in r e g a r d to it which we j u d g e sane or not.
A p h o t o g r a p h aids our senses and bestows on our m e m o r y a gift of the stillness of an
object or a face for study so that we can stalk it at leisure: we a r e flattered by seeing and
r e m e m b e r i n g for study with such seeming exactness. T h e u n t r u t h and distortion in a photo-
graph which m a k e s it humanly t r u e — a n d important s o m e t i m e s — w e often ignore in o r d e r to
imagine a n o t h e r t r u t h — o f t e s t i m o n y — i n the photograph, a romance of the t r u e and u n t r u e
mixed, of the ideal and the carnal reality inconsistently but often enough intoxicatingly
joined. What does a p h o t o g r a p h show? It shows something never seen in life: in life, the light,
t h e object, the f a c e a r e part of time, of a sequence, a p a r a d e of moments; of change, there-
fore: a long chain of variations. T h e real n a t u r e of faces and objects and of our perceptions
in these molecular chains is too difficult for us. We leap and seize and d r e a m in portions and
bits. We m a k e parables, examples, the legendary, the dreamlike, a set of lies about fixity.
In a lie, meaning, rightly o r wrongly, can be certain (what m a k e s a lie meaningless is its
failure to be b e l i e v e d — t h e n it is nonsense) b e c a u s e in a lie. meaning does not have a sepa-
rate existence f r o m our m o d e of dealing with it: how we utter it. what we say is everything:
 but this is not so if we m a k e a conscious attempt at •"truth": then form and content do exist
separately and problems of expression begin to tease us. " T r u t h , " so far as we know it, dif-
fuses purpose, it is such an overriding p u r p o s e in itself; and we cannot always give it time but
must settle for a half-accuracy as we go about our business. This is vertiginous for us some-
times; and really, our lives feel strange in us, around u s — w h i c h makes us sudden and
d a n g e r o u s — a n d lovely—animals, I think. A photograph by representing superior senses
becomes part of h u m a n boastfulness; and in life we try to see as if we were looking at photo-
g r a p h s — w e don't o f t e n try very h a r d to see anything very clearly in life: we use common
sense: we get a l o n g — w e are not perfect viewers—how can we be? T h e interposition of ma-
chinery doesn't c h a n g e the h u m a n quality of making or of seeing a p h o t o g r a p h . A machine is
machine-like, not supernatural. And in the human order of things, no m a t t e r how much still-
ness and finality we wish to photograph, we can, if we are honest, find no final subject matter
in a p h o t o g r a p h but only abstractions of lights and darks, limitations and successes of the
camera, devices, simple and complex, of the p h o t o g r a p h e r , the date we look at the picture,
t h e date t h e picture is fashioned, the light—actual or mental—with which we look at it,
various representations, visually and emotionally misinterpreted or merely interpreted. We
don't like to admit this.
N o r is p h o t o g r a p h y an ancient f o r m and this an old convention of misrepresentation in
an art; it is recent and p e r h a p s temporary: photography may turn out to be a medium in short
use and new methods will replace it—holography, p e r h a p s — w e do not know how satisfying
the medium of p h o t o g r a p h y is for u s — o n l y that it is satisfying now.
T h e r o m a n c e of h u m a n flattery and aid and apparent instruction in a photograph
causes love of a sort and so we p r e f e r it if the picture can be regarded sentimentally, if it
m a k e s us gasp with admiration or some such feeling at ourselves; a soft love being easier for
us than a h a r d one. A p h o t o g r a p h that makes us see too much forces us sometimes to hate it,
or to m a n a g e not to see it q u i t e — i t slides by us, misunderstood, mislabeled. Most of us like
the idea of a p h o t o g r a p h of someone f a m o u s as mythically caught for all time: we don't like
to admit that we a r e c o n f r o n t e d with constructed testimony. Love wants us to lie, to compre-
hend generously, even ourselves: p h o t o g r a p h s should be docile, not sly dreams. To accept an
actual p h o t o g r a p h is a complex business in reality and can involve a great many kinds of ro-
m a n c e . A p h o t o g r a p h of a real person who is also a movie star is of little interest if that is all
t h e r e is to the photograph: the p h o t o g r a p h of the star is more important to us. Photographs
sell and distill a peculiar heroism: timelessness: the athlete in a spasm of entirety of being,
the woman being fully expressive of some quality or other. Modern life, like old religion, lies
and will not define itself: it is success, it is what will succeed, it is history. It argues that death
and m i s f o r t u n e a r e not inevitabilities but misfortunes of the system so far. We are so im-
m e r s e d in time and in our times that fashion is often an evidence of respectability, is an okay,
is sanity, or an okayed insanity—not too great an insanity. Language becomes i n v e r s e — a n d
we b e c o m e r e s t l e s s — a n d say something is incredible but we mean the opposite: we mean
our individual existences and daring are safe somehow, but not so safe we are bored or must
accept our F a t e s as h u m a n s — a s like the Fates of our ancestors. Taste, in the meaning of a
private inclination, is less and less possible and a d m i r e d — i t is too singular: it dissolves the
congregation. Good t a s t e — G o d — i f you recall was supposed to be timeless, like a religion. It
was a bargain, it was a c o m m u n i o n — w i t h time. But our tastes die in a welter of arguments.
facts. ial c h a n g e , commercial pathos, and cultural and personal exhaustion.
irly in o u r lives we trembled with fugitive longings to know more, to c o m p r e h e n d the
world, we wanted things to hold still and to speak simply. As children we s t a r e d — d o you re-
m e m b e r ? As adults we c o n s u m e and give orders and make—clumsily m a k e lives. Sometimes
we c r e a t e surprisingly primitive celebrities who stand for those childhood longings—who a r e
t h e d u m b things and people we loved as children, and who will stand still, who will be looked
at, who will be objects now, who will be fit subjects for p h o t o g r a p h s of a certain kind.
Lies a r e sometimes predictions of what we will do. T h e staring child creates a culture
based astonishingly on the eye and on a dementia which p e r h a p s ought not to be rebuked.
T h e idea, a f t e r all, is new that all of us must live somehow.
Must try to live.

If I speak of t h e actual man, the p h o t o g r a p h e r , my sense of the adventures of his eye, I

speak of something stirred in me. I p r o d u c e a flurry of language and views aroused by him,
his c a r e e r , his work and the occasion of this p r e f a c e . It would be a multi-layered and unreli-
able and affectionate joke, the fiction of words applied to him, of my words about Avedon in
a book of his p h o t o g r a p h s .
T h e p h o t o g r a p h e r is erratic. T h e p h o t o g r a p h s exist. They do not represent moods;
they a r e not pretensions: they a r e a particular m a n as he lives.
Avedon never was much influenced by painting. His p h o t o g r a p h s are always photo-
graphs, and they do not play sentimentally with t h e stillness of the photographic i m a g e — t h e
u n e a r n e d or mechanical stillness. In Avedon's photographs, that stillness is ravaged by mo-
tion, t h e hint of motion, or by feeling: that is to say, emotion. He will often r e f u s e to have, if
he can m a n a g e it, a single picture: on t h e motionlessness of a single photograph he will su-
perimpose the m o v e m e n t of a s e q u e n c e — m o v e m e n t s of comparisons, movements of the
mind. Didactic and godless, kinetic and beyond moralizing (usually), he gives in a single
p h o t o g r a p h a fact at odds with romance which is always so self-consciously present or so ab-
sent it is powerfully part of t h e effect on the mind. T h e shapes, angles, n a m e of t h e sitter,
settings or white b a c k g r o u n d s a r e all elements of a seduction by excitement, truth, intelli-
g e n c e — a n d motion. If you see naivete and patience in a face or an unlikely or almost alle-
gorical juxtaposition of people or objects (or parts of people: their noses, say), you are
invited to e n t e r a f r a g m e n t e d novel, a special form of duration of time, by a wordless novel-
ist. His p i c t u r e s a r e always blasphemous, a r e always p r e p a r e d for m i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n — s o m e -
times as a comedy of misinterpretation: sometimes as an acid " t r u t h *: these, too. a r e f u r t h e r
m o v e m e n t s of the mind. H e gives no pictures to the viewer, he detaches them f r o m himself,
lets t h e m be stolen or found. Much of the technique, the placement of heads, the secret
m e a n i n g in an eye, t h e detail of ill-grace or other grace in a hand, the build up of fluid or
fleshy geometries, a s t o m a c h , a dress, a gown a r e m e a n s of divorce f r o m him as photogra-
pher. a r e the elements of the gift he makes: an active gift. He has become f a m o u s by claim-
ing least, as a p h o t o g r a p h e r by being the most modest of them all. Part of the mystery in any
p h o t o g r a p h of his is the resonance of his personality. But the resonance is not d e f i n e d — a s
idealism or lunacy o r bitterness, as anything but changeable, quick, o f t e n inspired, maniacal,
inventively photographic: this is b o t h e r s o m e to critics. He invites the mind to see and touch:
dangerously, he invites words. T h e r e is a careless, even suicidal self-revelation in the most
innocent-seeming of his p h o t o g r a p h s but the revealed self is, on study, invisible: the shapes,
the model, t h e p h o t o g r a p h in sequence a r e Avedon at various m o m e n t s — b u t he too is in
motion; he is not graspable quite.
Everyone looks at photographs in a private way but in most of these photographs there
is something that a p p e a r s most clearly if you look blankly but from within yourself and
let time e x i s t — t h a t is, don't divorce the photograph f r o m time, yours, his, that of what
is pictured: Marella Agnelli, Suzy Parker, Penelope Tree, Irene Castle: observe the
games with time.
Have any reaction you like, misuse the photograph however you wish. The movements
over stillness a r e always t h e r e inside the stilled frame, beneath the necessarily stilled surface.
This relentlessness of opposition to the mechanical, this assertion of spirit is usually
part also of t h e subject matter; sometimes a lapse f r o m this assertion of spirit is part of the
subject m a t t e r . Tensions of opposition and of echo plus the inevitable romance of the photo-
graph combine to p r o d u c e the resonance that his photographs more than anyone else's
evoke. His p h o t o g r a p h s have little to do with sentiment and even less with the egocentricity
that p h o t o g r a p h s flatter in us and that mimics night dreams: his work has more to do with
dreams m a d e a c t u a l — m a d e actual foolishly, bravely. Real life and d r e a m and daydream
m e r g e unexpectedly in the queer ambience of photographic time. Language, so we are
taught nowadays, must be factual, must stick to numbers, or else it lies: so language if it
wants to deal with meaning or feeling must lie: it cannot be factual. To make a photograph
speak r e q u i r e s the connivance of all sorts of f a c t s — a n d processes of f a c t — b u t then the
lying must begin and a photographic language created which was not used by painters in
their different g a m e s with time and truth and objects and faces. . . . Only the conventional
is comprehensible and the conventional is the subject of most photographs p e r h a p s — t h e
banal, banality itself. T h e singular, the strange is the human voice, only half-comprehensible,
an i m p o r t u n a t e and important m u r m u r , not an ideogram, not c o m p r e h e n s i b l e — b u t present.
T h e best illusions a r e compounded of lie and " t r u t h " ; the tensions between these m a k e
up much of t h e s t r u c t u r e of a work of art: the contrariety of elements of " t r u t h s " generates
the d e s p e r a t e beauty or electricity of some performances, some accomplishments. We love
and fear this. We e m b r a c e it: we run away. We are only human. We have our fashions. Ave-
don gravitates to those moments in which the oscillation between pretense and revelation is
most intense. T h e subject of any of his photographs is likely to show in part isolation or gro-
tesquerie, c o u r a g e to the point of madness, isolation-and-defiance or sly amusement, desola-
tion and wit, pride and sterility, pride and triumph. Victories, defeats mingle in the same
moment sometimes or on adjoining pages. He is an extraordinarily hasty, careless, earnest
m a n — a n artist. Each photograph is a confession—by him, by the sitter, by the process of
photography: and the conspiracy of confession has h e r e a g a i e t y — a n d often a ribald or im-
passioned or implicated s a r c a s m — a sexuality, a wryness, a madness, a madness ol love and
e x c i t e m e n t — t h a t is purposefully movement, moving, a dance and a confession—a defiance:
a form of meaning.
Avedon's work.
Avedon's Art.
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1 Shoe Dorian Leigh 9 Wise Daniels
Designed by Perugia Coat by Dior Turban by Paulette
Place <lu Trocadero, Paris Avenue Montaigne. Paris Rue Francois-Premier. Paris
August 1948 August 1949 August 1948

2 Workroom Carmen ( H o m a g e to Munkacsi) 10 Klise Daniels with street p e r f o r m e r s

House of Dior Coat by Cardin Suit by Balenciaga
Paris Place Francois-Premier, Paris Le Marais. Paris
August 1947 August 1957 August 1948

Dorian Leigh Klise Daniels and Monique 11 Rem e

Srliiaparelli rliinest ours Mats by Scliiaparelli The New Look of Dior
PreCatelan. Paris Cafe Flore. Paris Place de la Concorde. Paris
August 1949 August 1948 August 1947

I Christian llerard and Kenec Monique 12 Dorian Leigh with bicycle racer
Suit l»v Dior Suit by Scliiaparelli Dress by Dior
Lc Mar,us. Paris l ie de la Cite. Paris Cbamps-Klvs^es. Paris
August 1947 August 1918 August 1949
 22 Dovima
17 Dovima Evening dress by Givenchy
Evening dress by Gres Paris studio
Paris studio August 1955
August 1955
13 Dorian Leigh 23 Barbara Mullen
Hat by Dior 18 Dovima Hat by Lilly Dache
Gare de Lyon. Paris Evening dress by Fath New York studio
August 1949 Paris studio April 1951
August 1950
14 Dorian Leigh 24 Suzy P a r k e r and Gardner McKay
Evening dress by Piguet 19 Dovima Evening dress by Patou
Helena Rubinstein apartment Evening dress by Fath Le Sheherazade, Paris
lie St.-Louis. Paris Paris studio August 1956
August 1949 August 1950
25 Marlcne Dietrich
15 Elise Daniels 20 Turban by Dior
Turban by Paulette The Kit/. Paris
Pre-Catelan, Paris August 1955
August 1948
26 Suzv P a r k e r and China Machado
16 Dovima 21 Dorian Leigh with Robin Tattersall and Dr. Reginald Krrnan
Evening dress by Griffe Evening dress by Balenciaga Evening dresses bv Balmain and Patou
Paris studio Paris studio La Pagode d"0r. Paris
August 1955 August 1949 January 1959
27 Sunny Harnett .'{2 Dovima
Evening dress by Dior 'I unic by Baleneiaga 37 Suzv P a r k e r with G a r d n e r .McKay
Rii*' Jean-Goujon, Paris Place de la Concorde. Paris and Robin Tattersall
August 1954 August 1955 Dress by Dior
Place de la Concorde. Paris
28 Carmen 33 Dovima August 1956
Evening dress by Patou Evening dress by Patou
Au Reveil, Paris Chez Yvonne. Paris 38 Suzv P a r k e r and Robin Tattersall
August 1957 August 1955 Evening dress by Grifle
Folics-Bergere. Paris
2*> Sunny H a r n e t t and Alia 3I- Dovima August 1957
Kwning dresses by Balmain Hat by Dior
Casino, l.e Touquet Fouquet's, Paris 39 Carmen
August 1954 August 1955 Evening dress by Nina Ricei
Moulin Rouge. Paris
30 Dovima 35 Dovima August 1957
Hat by Baleneiaga Dress by Patou
Maxim's. Paris Maxim's. Paris M> Audrey H e p b u r n and Art Bitch*aid
August 1955 August 1955 with Simone. Barbara Mullen.
Frederick Ebcrstadt. and
3 I S u n n y Harnett 36 Suzv P a r k e r and Kohin I'alter-all Dr. Reginald kernan
I veiling dress by l.anvin-( Castillo Coat by Laroche Evening dresses b\ Balmain. Dior. Patou
Hotel San Regis. Paris Palais-Royal. Paris Maxim's. Paris
Aunust 1954 August 1957 August 1959
52 5

1-1 Dovima 50 Dovima

Evening dress by Cavanagh Suit by Dior
I.a Grande Cascade, Paris Grand Palais. Paris
August 1955 August 1955

12 Carmen 46 Carmen 51 Dovima

Hat by Lanvin-Castillo Evening dress by Dior Hat by Dior
Pont Alexandre III. Paris Moulin Rouge. Paris Fouquet's. Paris
August 1957 August 1957 August 1955

4>'{ Sunny Harnett 47 Siizy P a r k e r and Robin Tattersall 52 Dovima

Hat by Balenciaga Evening dress by Gres Dress by Dior
Theatre Marigny, Paris Moulin Rouge. Paris Grand Palais. Paris
August 1954 August 1957 August 1955

44 Sunny Harnett 48 Sunny Harnett 53 Dovima

Evening dress by Gres Turban and dress by Dior Wrap by Brooke Cadwallader
Casino, I^Touquet Theatre Marigny. Paris Great Pyramids ofGiza, Egypt
August 1954 August 1954 January 1951

45 Carmen and Robin Tattersall Dovima wi th Sacha 51- Veronica Compton and Bruno
Evening dress by Dior Cloche by Balenciaga Scarf by John Frederics
Pont Alexandre III. Paris Cafe des Deux Magots, Paris New York studio
August 1957 August 1955 July 1949
 A
ty. f is
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J
V
X

56 57 58

T- m V
Jp,k f A
t

60 61

§
62
H
63
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W .
M
66 6 68 69

65 L a u r e n Bacall with J o h n Huston

Dress by Galanos
55 Cyd Charisse 60 S u n n y Harnett and Linda H a r p e r New York studio
Evening dress by Macrini Suits by Toni Owen July 1960
New York studio New York studio
June 1961 May 1958 66 Gabrielle Chanel and Suzv P a r k e r
Suits by Chanel
56 I r e n e Castle 61 Linda H a r p e r and Sunny Harnett Paris studio
Dress designed lor her in 1914 by Lueile Dresses by Mr. Gee January 1959
New York studio New York studio
November 1958 May 1958 67 T h e Honorable Mrs. J. J. Astor
with Cecil Beaton
57 Cayelana. Duchess of Alba 62 B a r b a r a Mullen Evening pajamas by Jane Derby
New York studio Pajamas by Cooper's Cabana New York studio
December 1959 New York studio October 1959
February 1957
58 J e a n I'utchett, Betsy Pickering. 68 Yieonitesse J a c q u e l i n e d e Kibes
Marilyn Amhroxe 63 Danny Weil with R a v m u n d o d e l^irrain
Suits by Nelley de Crab Dress by Abe Schrader Evening dress by Dior
New York studio New York studio New ^ ork studio
June 1958 October 1962 May 1961

59 Lisa and Alfred Leslie 61 Doviina 69 Evening slipper

Suit b> Zelinka-Matlick Dress by Traina-Norell Designed b\ Roger Yivier for Dior
New York studio New York studio Paris studio
June I960 December 1957 August 1963
 81 8 2

70 >1 aril vii M on rot-

Dress by Norell
New York studio 75 Suzv P a r k e r and Mike Nichols
May 1957 Evening dress by Dior
Maxim's. Paris 79 Marella Agnelli
71 Katharine H e p b u r n August 1962 Hair by Kenneth
New Y ork studio New York studio
March 1955 76 Mrs. Cordelia Biddlc Robertson December 1959
New York studio
72 Suzy P a r k e r September 1956 80 Vicomtesse Jacqueline de Ribe
Dress by Nina Ricci Hair by Kenneth
Champs-£lysees. Paris 77 T h e House of Dior New York studio
August 1962 Mitza Bricard. Jacques Rouet. Kouka. December 1959
Suzanne Luling. Yvonne de PeyerimhofT
73 Suzy P a r k e r and Mike Nichols Evening dress by Dior 81 Yicomtesse Jacqueline de Ribe
Suit by Simonetta-Fabiani Paris studio Hair by Kenneth
Rue Franqois-Premier, Paris August 1961 New York studio
August 1962 December 1955
78 Margot MeKendry and China Machado
74 Suzy P a r k e r and Mike Nichols with m e m b e r s of the French press 82 Anlonella Agnelli
Evening dress by Lanvin-Castillo Dresses by Lanvin-Castillo and Heim Hair by Kenneth
Maxim's. Paris Paris studio New York studio
August 1961 Janiiar\ 196 I
August 1962
92 93 94 95 96

92 China Machado
Suit by Ben Zuekerman
Hair by Kenneth
83 Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia New York studio
Hair by Claude November 1958
New York studio 88 Naty Abascal and Ana-Maria Abascal
December 1961 with Ilelio G u e r r e i r o 93 Marchioness of Tavistock
Dresses by Rica no Coat by Cardin
84 Dolores Guinness Ibiza, Spain Hair by Alexandre
Hair by Kenneth September 1964 Paris studio
New York studio January 1959
November 1961
89 Ana-Maria Abascal and Naty Abascal 94 Jean S h r i m p t o n
85 Dolores Guinness with Helio G u e r r e i r o Toga by Forquet
Hair by Alexandre Bathing suit by Briganee Paris studio
Paris studio Ibiza. Spain August 1965
January 1959 September 1964
95 Jean Shrimpton
86 Contcssa Christina Puoloz/.i 90 J e a n n e Moreau Evening dress by Galitzine
Hair by Kenneth Dress by Cardiu Hair by Alexandre
New York studio Paris studio Paris studio
June 1961 August 1962 August 1965

87 Brigitte Bardot 91 Elizabeth Taylor 96 Maya Plisetskaya

Hair by Alexandre Cock leathers by Ancllo of Emme Hat by Halston
Paris studio New York studio New ^ ork studio
January 1959 July 196-1 May 1966
106 109 110

97 L a u r e n Hutton
Bathing suit by Oscar de la Renta
Great Exuma. the Bahamas 102 Viva and Michel Auder
October 1968 New York studio 107 Twiggy-
October 1969 Dress by Roberto Rojas
New York studio
98 Lauren Hutton
103 Janis Joplin April 1967
Sweater by Van Raalte
Great Exuma. the Bahamas New York studio
October 1968 August 1969 108 Penelope T r e e
Dress by Cardin
104 Penelope T r e e Paris studio
99 Claude and Paloma Picasso January 1968
Paris studio New York studio
January 1966 June 1967
109 Don vale Luna
100 J a c q u e t t a , Lady Eliot 105 J o a n Baez Dress by Paco Rabanne
London studio New York studio New York >tudio
January 1965 June 1965 December 1966

106 Penelope Tree 1 10 Jean Shrimpton

101 Tilly Tizzani
Mask by Ungaro Hair by Alexandi e
Raincoat by Main Street
Paris studio Paris studio
New York studio August 1965
July 1964 January 1968
121 122 123 12* 125

I II Penelope T r e e
Dress by Dorcia Original? 116 lugrid Boulting 121 Sophia Loren
Hair by Ara Gallant Coat by Dior Hair bv Ara Gallant
New York studio Paris studio New York studio
November 1967 Januarv 1970 October 1970

1 12 Sunglasses 117 Y'cruschka 122 Penelope T r e e

Designed by Courreges Dress by Kimberly Evening dress by Lan\ in
Paris studio New Y ork studio Paris studio
lebruarv 1965 Januarv 1967 January 1968

1 13 Sandal 118 Ycruschka 123 J e a n Shrimpton

Designed bv Serge Lutcus Dress by Bill Bias* Evening dress by Cardin
Paris studio New Y ork studio Paris studio
August 1970 Januarv 1967 Januarv 1970

Julie Driscoll I 19 China Machado >21 Jean Shrimpton

Bracelets bv Cartier Evening pajamas by Calit/inc Jump suit bv Courrege
New York studio London studio Paris studio
December 1968 Januarv 1965 Januarv 1970

N eruschka 120 Jean Shrimpton 12: Penelope T r e e

W rap by Giorgio di Sant' \ngelo Coat by I ngaro Suit bv I ugaro
New Y ork studio Paris studio Paris studio
March 1972 Januarv 1970 Januarv l«)(»8
 130 Dovima and Betsy P i c k e r i n g
Dresses by Lanvin-Castillo
Paris studio
August 1958
126 Veruschka
Suit by Antony Arland 131 Bette Midler 135 Suzy P a r k e r
New York studio New York studio Evening dress by Lanvin-Castillo
March 1972 December 1971 Cafe des Beaux Arts. Paris
August 1956
127 Twiggy 132 Lauren Hutton and Alan Lewis
Hair by Ara Gallant Great Exuma. the Bahamas 136 Loulou d e La Falaise
Paris studio October 1968 Paris studio
December 1977
January 1968
133 Barbara Mullen
128 Suzy P a r k e r Dress by Traina-Norell 137 Marisa Berenson a- Josephine Baker
Evening dress by Dior New York studio New York studio
January 1950 December 1975
Paris studio
August 1956
134 Elise Daniels 138 Dorian Leigh
Hat by Paulette Hat by Paulett
129 Suzy P a r k e r
Place Vcnddme, Paris Paris studio
Antigua. West Indies
August 1948 August ' 949
January 1962
 IJ

1 19 150 151 152 15.5 151

119 Dovitna
Cape by Lauvin-Castillo
Place Francois-Premier. Paris
144 Evelyn Avcdon August 1955
I .'S9 Ingrid Boulting Apartment 60. Hotel San Regis. Paris
Hair l>y Ara Gallant August 1955 150 Elizabeth Avedon
New York studio New \ ork studio
July 1969 1 15 Liz Pringlc October 1977
Bracelet by Schlumherger
I 10 Doe Avedon Round Hill. Jamaica 151 Gloria Vanderbilt
Fire Island. New York February 1959 New ^ ork studio
June 1918 December 1953
1 16 Ingrid Moulting
I 11 Priscilln Kutta/./.i Evening dress by Grcs 152 Tina T u r n e r
New \ «irk studio Paris studio Dress by Azzaro
May 1977 January 1970 New \ ork studio
June 1971
I 12 Muximc. Comtesse d e La l a l a i s c I 17 Bianca J a g g e r
Suit and hat by Falh Hollywood studio 153 Lena H o m e
Paris sludio January 1972 New ^ ork studio
January 1918 January 1958
1 18 Diana \ rccland. Dovima.
I \ i i j c l i c a IIIIHIOII and Richard Avcdon 151 Su/.v P a r k e r and Mike Nichol?
Hair by Serge I .ulcus Hair by Enrico Caruso Coat l»\ Saint Laurent
New ^ ork studio New York studio The American Hospital. Paris
November 1972 July 1955 August 1962
155 Lauren Ilutton 159 Dovima with elephants
Great Exuma. the Bahamas Evening dress by Dior
October 1968 Cirque d'Hiver, Paris
August 1955
156 Dovima
Dress by Claire McCardell 160 Renata Adler
Great Pyramids of Giza, Egypt Saint Martin. French Wc-t Indies
January 1951 March 1978

157 Zouzou 161 Marella Agnelli

New York studio New York studio
October 1972 December 1953

158 Marella Agnelli 162 J u n e Leaf

New York studio Mabou Mines. Nova Scotia
November 1976 July 1975
 Anna Avedon

Carmel Snow Alexey Brodovitch Diana Vreeland

Evelyn Avedon

John Avedon

Laura Kanelous

Marvin Israel

Nancy White Marie-Louise Bousquet D. D. Ryan China Machado

Henry Wolf Ruth Ansel Bea Feitler

Yvonne Petitgerard Marian Capron

Alexander Liberman Grace Mirabella Polly Mellen

Robert Bishop Sidney Rapoport

Polly Hatch Joanna Brown Suzanne Mosel

Virginia Heyman Betti Paul Ingrid Drotman

Pat Knack Alicia Grant Norma Stevens

A n d r e Gremela F r a n k Finocchio Earl Steinbicker

Yasuhiro Wakabayashi Alen MacWeeney Eiishiro Sakata

Peter Waldman Jeff Niki Henry Mattison Kazutaka Nakamura

Sebastian Chieco

Gideon Lewin
10,7.9