I’ve always believed that photography is about people, not just the faces in front of the lens, but the lives, the energy, the trust exchanged in a moment. That belief has carried me from the quiet of the Adirondack Mountains, where I first fell in love with fashion and music magazines, to the heart of New York City, where I’ve spent my life documenting the people and stories that moved me.

I moved to Manhattan in 1969 to study at the School of Visual Arts. The city was wild and alive—art, music, fashion, all colliding in the streets, clubs, and studios. I didn’t set out to chase fame or trends; I was just drawn to the people who made things happen. I was lucky enough to be there with my camera—quietly observing, always listening, and trying to honor what I saw.

Over the years, I had the chance to photograph incredible artists—David Bowie, Diana Ross, Grace Jones, Debbie Harry, and so many more. But to me, they weren’t just icons—they were people. Vulnerable, bold, kind, searching. I never wanted to take their photo just because they were famous; I wanted to capture a real moment, something human, something true.

Working with Andy Warhol and being welcomed into The Factory was a turning point. Andy had a way of seeing people that left space for contradiction and honesty. He didn’t teach in the traditional sense, but being around him taught me how to see more deeply, to appreciate the beauty in everyday gestures and imperfect moments.

I’ve also been profoundly shaped by the fashion world—from Halston to Diana Vreeland to young designers just starting. What I learned through all those years is that it’s not just about clothes or runways—it’s about expression, care, and the way we show up in the world.

I never saw myself as just a photographer—I was a participant. These weren’t just celebrities; they were my friends, my collaborators, my chosen family. What I documented wasn’t just nightlife—it was a movement, a feeling, a freedom.

New York After Dark is my way of honoring that time. Each image holds a piece of that world, full of joy, chaos, tenderness, and trust. It’s a love letter to the people who let me in, and to a city that taught me how to see with both heart and eye.