PaperCity Magazine

March 2017 - Dallas

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Page 49 of 95

48 one of Ungaro's suits handy, and I put it on. Me, with sunglasses on and a cigar in hand: Guy snapped away. Later, when I saw the image printed in Vogue Paris, Ungaro had cut the image in half. Only Anouk remained in the picture. When the shoot wrapped, Guy said he would like to work with me again. I told him I would like to, but that I didn't have a place to stay or much money. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll fi nd a place for you to live and make sure you have money." It was late July, and as most Europeans take their summer holidays in August, I stayed in the home of Barbara Baumel (one of the Vogue editors and Guy's close friend) for the month of August and a bit of September, while she and her boyfriend vacationed elsewhere. This began a 2 1/2-year-long apprenticeship with Guy. Almost immediately, it became like a father- and-son relationship. He was very kind to me. There was a special connection between us that went beyond the typical photographer-assistant relationship. During a vacation we all took together at a little house Guy owned in Normandy, his son, Samuel, told me, "My father wants to adopt you." I was very fl attered. What Guy taught me is that there is more to this existence than what meets the eye. He was tuned into something. I'm not sure what or how. The only thing I can think to call it is maybe the rhythm of the planets, or of the stars. I remember someone asked him how he and I communicated, as he spoke broken English and I spoke very little French. "We speak with our minds," he said. I learned a different way of life than I had known before: to be more accepting of things as they are; that the world is bigger than you; and to allow things to happen organically. He told me to never interfere with happenstance. I can still hear him saying: "No selection. No rejection," and "No problems, only solutions." I have tried but haven't always succeeded. FRANCIS BACON AND ANDY WARHOL, LONDON I fl ew from Paris to London for a Francis Bacon portrait shoot, with no contact information for where Guy was or where I needed to go. In 1986, there weren't many cell phones around, so as soon as I landed at Heathrow, I got on a pay phone, and frantically called the Vogue offi ce — but everyone had gone home for the evening. I ended up having to wait till morning to fi nd out the rendezvous point for the Francis Bacon shoot. The next day, armed with the information, I hopped into one of those classic black London taxis and told the driver, "Tate Gallery, please." When shooting with his old Nikon, Guy would expose a roll of Polachrome fi rst to check lighting and exposure prior to shooting a roll of Ektachrome. Bacon arrived. Guy posed him in front of one of his paintings and exposed the Polachrome. I developed the fi lm in the hand-cranked box that processed the fi lm. This takes several minutes, and once it was fi nished, Guy took a quick look and started shooting with the Ektachrome. I'm sure Guy intended to shoot three or four rolls of fi lm, but after just 36 frames, Bacon stood up and said, "That's enough." Martine, Guy's girlfriend at the time, asked Bacon what his favorite color was. I thought it was a stupid question, but he answered: "Orange." He signed a copy of his Tate Gallery catalog: "To Richard Krall with all my best wishes, Francis Bacon." It's one of my prized possessions. During this same trip, I photographed Andy Warhol — by chance, really. With some time off after the Bacon shoot, I walked around London and found myself on King's Road. I looked to my right and out of nowhere Andy Warhol was walking next to me. "Hey, I know you," I said. "You do?" he replied. I asked if I could take his picture, but I thought he said no, so I kept walking. About 10 feet away, I turned around. He was standing there. "Well," Warhol said. "Are you going to take it or not?" I agreed. "Where do you want me to stand?" he asked. We were in front of a little ice cream shop. "Can you stand there?" I said. He did, and I snapped two pictures: one with his eyes open and one with them closed. "RICHARD, SIT DOWN. RELAX. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DO. YOU HAVE IDEA. YOU GIVE ME." — Guy Bourdin (continued on page 50) Richard Krall at Gianni Versace's Villa Fontanelle on Lake Como, 1985 A Polachrome photograph, 1987 Richard Krall by Guy Bourdin, 1986 Nora Arrifi n by Guy Bourdin, 1987 Richard Krall and Anouk Aimee by Guy Bourdin for Emanuel Ungaro, 1985

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