I've been walking around with Peter Cunningham for thirty-five years. I got his name out of a book when I was looking for work as a photo assistant after I returned to New York from South Africa in 1989. It was raining like hell when I arrived, drenched, at his studio in the Meat Packing District (which really WAS the meat packing district back then). He came down in the rickety cage-elevator to pick me up; he had a towel in hand, anticipating my bedraggled state. We quickly connected, and here, more than half my life later, I owe an enormous swath of my social life to him (he introduced me to some of my dearest friends). He also taught me a bunch about photography. More than anything, though, he taught me about being open to possibility and connection and being embracing of pretty much, well, everything. For better, most of the time...
Walking with Peter
Walking with Peter
Walking with Peter
I've been walking around with Peter Cunningham for thirty-five years. I got his name out of a book when I was looking for work as a photo assistant after I returned to New York from South Africa in 1989. It was raining like hell when I arrived, drenched, at his studio in the Meat Packing District (which really WAS the meat packing district back then). He came down in the rickety cage-elevator to pick me up; he had a towel in hand, anticipating my bedraggled state. We quickly connected, and here, more than half my life later, I owe an enormous swath of my social life to him (he introduced me to some of my dearest friends). He also taught me a bunch about photography. More than anything, though, he taught me about being open to possibility and connection and being embracing of pretty much, well, everything. For better, most of the time...