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July 23, 2009
When I think of fashion photography, I think of something shallow, something hollow as a model's emaciated cheeks. Something underfed. Something with a lot missing. All gloss and glass without body. Without heart. Superficial, insignificant if pretty. 

So what do you make of Richard Avedon? It took a while to see past my preconceptions. Little by little the stark hostility, the edge of grotesque, the refusal to play nicely come through. Oh yes. 

Then you see the suffering behind the beauty. The anger behind every smile, the laughter that dares to defy death itself.

And the curse of the money.