What makes Tim unique?
Unique is a big, big word. “What makes Tim special?” is probably easier to answer. He’s not only a wonderful human
being, but he’s also very generous and a real innovator. He makes things happen and, unlike a lot of photographers
today who let the computer do a lot of the work, everything you see in one of Tim’s pictures is done in front of
the camera. There is no Photoshop, no trickery.
None at all?
None at all. There is one picture in the new book where
a little pipe is being retouched out, but 99.999 per cent of
Tim’s pictures are exactly as they look in the can. There
is no trickery. No Photoshop. He makes everything himself.
Everything is set up. If it happens, if it moves, if it
glows, if it slides, if it’s giant, if it’s miniature. You know
that doll? . . . She is about 18-20 feet high.
From what I’ve heard, he’s going through a transition
— from big productions to these simple white
backgrounds. How has his production or distribution
changed?
He’s always done what he does. The fact that he’s willing
to release prints today is quite unusual. Until recently, he
didn’t want to release his work in print form.
Tim worked with Richard Avedon. How does Tim’s
work with the white background differ from Avedon’s?
Avedon did it in black and white on 10 x 8. Tim is doing
it in bright, glorious color. I think there’s an element of
Avedon up to a point in some of Tim’s work, where there’s
drama and theater, but it’s so beautifully executed. It’s not
forced. What the white backdrop is allowing Tim to do is
examine detail in the subject’s face . . . Tim is interested
in the longevity of character. This is why Avedon, Penn,
and a lot of portrait photographers choose a simple backdrop.
The eyes are not allowed to roam anywhere else.
I think that’s almost a self-imposed discipline rather than
somebody saying: “I want to copy somebody else.” Tim
has become interested in people’s faces, expressions,
the way they react to him. This is not a passing phase . . .
I like the fact that he doesn’t risk his morals. He’s continuously
pushing himself.
Tim is known as a storyteller. Don’t you think that all
good photographs tell a story? What sets his story
apart?
You just added the word, which of course is the most important
word: all good photographs tell a story; not all
photographs tell a story. Yes, I think you’re absolutely
right, but how many good photographs are there in the
world or how many good photographs could you or I
take? Not many. I think people try to tell stories, even
if it’s simply taking a picture of a family at Christmas.
They’re trying to say: “We had a great time!” If you saw
my Christmas photographs, it looks like a funeral . . . Tim
manages to fill his photographs with stories and qualities
and layers, which encourages people to question things,
which is why we’re having this conversation.
Do you make any distinction between fine art photographers
and fashion photographers?
Absolutely. I think Tim is an artist that a lot of fashion
people have been able to hang their work on. In a sense,
it’s a stage set. Tim’s imagination is there. Set designers
and certain people in fashion like to bring their stories.
When you talk to a designer they’ll talk about their ‘winter
collection’, and I like that conversation. It’s similar. Now,
I’m not comparing Tim to Irving Penn in any way, but
when you read and hear about the stories and letters between
Issey Miyake and Irving Penn . . . it is a confluence
of ideas and minds coming together. Tim needs great
imagination from a fashion designer and they need great
imagination from Tim. If it works, what you end up with is
a wonderfully beautiful — and also informative — picture
which goes beyond simply selling the coat or selling the
handbag, which, I’m afraid to say is what a lot of fashion
photography is all about today . . . I’m not moralizing it,
but I’m saying I don’t think that’s Tim’s style.