Portraits
F-I Page 1
Al
Hirschfeld
In January 2002, Al Hirschfeld was 98, heading towards 99 and didn’t
seem a day over 95. There was nothing old about Hirschfeld, his magical
drawings were as good as ever, he worked all day on the top floor of
his town house, drove his car about Manhattan and always seemed to find
a parking place.
I had always wanted to take a photograph of this legendary New Yorker,
but there was always some impediment. Then, through the gracious
intercession of Marge Champion, all the previous problems vanished. We
seemed to hit it off; Shelley Shier was with me and within a moment or
two it seemed Herschfeld and his wife, Louise, and Shelley and I were
old friends. While Shelley and Louise discussed matters theatrical, I
sat up my old wooden camera in front of Hirschfeld’s drafting table. He
thought it was amusing. Just me, and an old wooden camera. No lights,
no electronics or machines. He told me the week before a major news
magazine had come up for a shoot. They had six people, a van full of
equipment and took three or four hours.
I took half a dozen black and white pictures, then a few in color. I
asked Louise to join her husband for a couple. Later, Louise told me
they liked the pictures just as much as the CDs I’d left behind, most
old time jazz pianists. My guess is the reason this one worked is
because Hirschfeld could relate more to an old wooden camera than to a
van of electronics.
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