Meeting Bruce Davidson
I had to drop some stuff off at Bruce Davidson's house yesterday. Bruce is one of my photographic idols. I learned from tripping all over myself when I met Susan Meiselas at the Magnum office, and handled this encounter pretty well.
I brought a big bag of stuff from the office to his palatial apartment on west 86th st. The bald, short man in an empty tan photographer's vest greeted me warmly at the door. He asked what my name was and immediately asked if it was my real name. I admitted it to be a pen name. After a brief exchange about pen names and going by only one name professionally as opposed to two, he invited me to sit down while he got some stuff together for me to take back. I looked around from my seat and found the place to be a poorly coordinated mix between flashy European antiques and things from his world travels, like giant clay pots and autographed boxing gloves. His kind but somewhat awkward wife got me some juice to drink. Bruce brought a small bag of things out, took the bag I had brought, and disappeared into the back again. His assistant came in and asked where he went, if he was getting anything. I said I didn't know. When he did come back, he had a poster that he was signing for me and sent his assistant to get an index card. "Can I call you if we need some help on a weekend or something?" Of course I said yes. I took the opportunity to offer that I had some work I would like him to look at. He stumbled over the correct word s to refer to trans people and there was no mention of actually looking at the work. His assistant was standing near by looking somewhat irritated at me for the chit chat. I put down my name, phone number and email address on the card, and was shown to the door. "Just simple things like carrying stuff. Don't worry. I won't exploit you." We said good buy and I was headed back down the elevator. I assumed that this is how he always treats the interns that come by from Magnum. I told one other intern, but she was very surprised, said all she got when she went over there was a tour. Who knows. He has probably misplaced the card with my number already. He should remember my name though.
I brought a big bag of stuff from the office to his palatial apartment on west 86th st. The bald, short man in an empty tan photographer's vest greeted me warmly at the door. He asked what my name was and immediately asked if it was my real name. I admitted it to be a pen name. After a brief exchange about pen names and going by only one name professionally as opposed to two, he invited me to sit down while he got some stuff together for me to take back. I looked around from my seat and found the place to be a poorly coordinated mix between flashy European antiques and things from his world travels, like giant clay pots and autographed boxing gloves. His kind but somewhat awkward wife got me some juice to drink. Bruce brought a small bag of things out, took the bag I had brought, and disappeared into the back again. His assistant came in and asked where he went, if he was getting anything. I said I didn't know. When he did come back, he had a poster that he was signing for me and sent his assistant to get an index card. "Can I call you if we need some help on a weekend or something?" Of course I said yes. I took the opportunity to offer that I had some work I would like him to look at. He stumbled over the correct word s to refer to trans people and there was no mention of actually looking at the work. His assistant was standing near by looking somewhat irritated at me for the chit chat. I put down my name, phone number and email address on the card, and was shown to the door. "Just simple things like carrying stuff. Don't worry. I won't exploit you." We said good buy and I was headed back down the elevator. I assumed that this is how he always treats the interns that come by from Magnum. I told one other intern, but she was very surprised, said all she got when she went over there was a tour. Who knows. He has probably misplaced the card with my number already. He should remember my name though.