In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
In 2001, I got the chance to photograph Gene Hackman. The shoot took place Nov. 17 in a penthouse suite at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel in Beverly Hills. I met with the publicist, with whom I had worked with many times, and I had carte blanche because she liked my photography.
I set up my lights in a couple of places. My main location was a bed that was covered in gold blankets, adorned with golden bedposts and backed by golden drapes. It seemed like a location from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” one of the three films in which Hackman had starred that year.
Hackman arrived and filled the room with his presence. He was very tall, so I literally looked up to the man. I greeted him and thanked him for all his great performances.
I talked about some of my favorite films of his, and he listened patiently. When I mentioned the 1974 thriller “The Conversation,” he gave me a most subtle grin and said, “What would you like to do?”
He had three films released in the same year, so I said I wanted to capture something that said, “Zen and the Art of Acting.” I told him I was hoping he would strike a Buddha-like pose on the bed. He cast a very blank expression at me and I thought, well it was a nice try.
“Jacket on, or jacket off?” he said to me.
“Jacket off,” I replied.
“Shoes on or shoes off?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Shoes off.”
Once his jacket and shoes were off he, he leaped onto the bed with surprising grace and struck the perfect pose. My only suggestion was for his palms to be facing upward. He had a pleasant expression that told me he was having fun, but then Hackman stopped.
“Wait, this just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
Rats, foiled again, I thought.
Hackman asked his friend for his Swiss Army knife. He cut a hole in his sock large enough for his big toe to stick through. “Now it’s perfect,” he said. It was the most unexpected accent. His toe could have won an Academy Award as far as I was concerned.
I photographed him in a couple of other places and then our time was up. I thanked him once again and for being such a good sport and shook his hand. He gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake, and he left the room.
While breaking down my lights I found something on the floor. I was going to throw it away when I realized it was the part of the sock that Hackman had cut out.
It has a special place in my journal.
