So, as the 80’s found my time spent balancing Hayley in and out of the arms of Miles Davis, as well as keeping up with the pace of photographic excellence, the early 90’s found me questioning all of that. I am quite comfortable balancing personal chaos into management but when it became part of a collective consciousness, as with 9/11, and much more external, I had a lot more on my mind. And, I resorted to more subtle imagery in response. The world was not so black and white and I was getting more saavy to that.

One of my more memorable days was being asked to photograph Elie Wiesel for the cover of the New York Times Sunday Magazine. I spent a crisp, early Fall day with this very special voice, and was asked to photograph he and his family in their living room, in their study - in their own environment – as well as a wonderful cover portrait on the backdrop. As the full day wound down towards it’s conclusion, a call came in to photograph Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones for the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine. It was a shoot that had been delayed for one reason or another, and Mick had just finished shopping for his many outfits. "Mr. Wiesel, I must leave now and photograph Mick Jagger," I said with a very muted, but excited tone. His reponse: "Who is Mick Jagger?" So, as my excitement peaked. I would go back home to meet Mr. Jagger. When he arrived, I mentioned that I had spend the entire day with the writer, Elie Wiesel. "Elie Wiesel -Who is Elie Wiesel?" Another example of how many different worlds do co-exist.

Although it was of immense importance for me to document the indigenous peoples around the world, and to seek them out – the passion and the pursuit - I also found it less and less rewarding. Although in some ways it was a rather mystical journey. I loved observing these places partly because I could witness ways of life that had depth and at the same time, not pre-occupied with wealth and status. All I had was the ability to view it – not having that type place on my own – and document it. I looked for spiritual utopias with good visuals. I had faith that I could depict the ordinary into something exalted and iconic. I suppose I had always thought it would help them, too, but then that became questioned. What was this? Was it important to continue? I questioned what made a "good life" in pictures. I questioned what makes a good photograph. I questioned what is content. I questioned why one would need to have a bright colored feather versus a soft one, or versus none at all. I questioned the mal-nourished kid, versus the fast-food one. A black and white one vs. a colored one. Not that you need to define it that way – I just didn’t like thinking that way anymore, in compartments, and boxes and pre-visualizations of places yet unseen. I looked for Utopias – and all I found were Dystopias.

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