At the end of September, Sam Haskins released his first book in nearly 20 years. The much-anticipated launch resulted in a crowd that lined the streets outside Milk Studios. Inside the opening, it seemed that nearly everyone was there — everybody, that is, except the photographer himself. Unfortunately, mere hours before the opening, Sam suffered a stroke that left him recovering at St. Vincent’s Hospital rather than celebrating with his colleagues, friends, and fans.

From Fashion Etcetera, by Sam Haskins

Last week, Pierce Jackson called to tell me that he was heading to an interview with Haskins that he was doing for LeBook. He also made the mistake of asking me if I’d like to join. Within minutes, I was shuffling my morning meetings and sprinting to meet him. Inside the gallery, I was met by Pierce, Sam, and Sam’s son Ludwig. Pierce asked Sam to do a mic check, and a few numbers in, he paused and apologized. “I never used to sound this hoarse. It’s from the stroke,” he confided. He went on to say he thought he sounded foolish. I said he didn’t and joked that if he wanted to hear what foolish sounded like, he ought to listen to Pierce. It was a potshot, but it worked. Pierce offered a playful scowl, and Sam cracked a smile. The interview began.

Sam Haskins

Over the next hour, I sat on the floor next to Sam as he told us tales that were woven together so well it would be an injustice for me to try to repeat them. At first, he spoke of his childhood in South Africa. His face brightened as he told the story of the day that the circus elephants arrived, and he furrowed his brow as he noted the rampant discrimination throughout the country. He explained his move to London and how he fell in love with photography.

Photograph by Sam Haskins

“Irving Penn really opened my eyes to everything. He made me aware of what was possible,” he explained. (Unfortunately, I would later learn that somewhere across town, Irving Penn had passed away during the interview.) When asked about where he finds inspiration, he spoke highly of dance, music, and art (such as political graffiti in Barcelona) but didn’t list any additional photographers. He believes that the industry is entirely too inbred, and copying one another will only hinder what little originality is left. He believes in finding inspiration through other outlets — which explains his frequent decision to show his pieces paired with art. But what about contemporary photography? Why the general disdain for it? Without missing a beat, Sam compared it to tying a camera around a dog’s neck. “The dog is also going to get a good and low angle,” he joked.

Photograph by Sam Haskins

One of my favorite things that Sam mentioned, which I had always heard rumors of, was that he first chose his models based on whether they could do their own hair and makeup and were strong enough to help carry his equipment. He said it nonchalantly, as if it were obvious. I requested a few stories about the models, and without hesitation he pointed to a photo above him. “She was such a lovely girl and so easy to photograph, but she got into a car accident. It was really a shame, and I eventually lost touch with her. But her daughter came to the opening and spoke to my son … so now I suppose we know how to find her again.” I said how great it was that the story had come full circle to involve their children, and he nodded his head in agreement.

One of the final questions I asked Sam was about the reactions to his work, which, with its wide-ranging styles (outdoor, object, fashion, and nude models), must elicit an equally wide range of responses. “Well, we did a shoot that used Bibles, and nuns walked by. I really wasn’t sure what they’d do … but they just stood there with their mouths open.”

Signed copy of Fashion Etcetera

That evening, I returned to Milk Studios to hear an interview that Sam was doing with Horacio Silva. At the end, I asked Pierce to snag a poster for me, and he came back carrying posters and a box from Ludwig. I went to (excitedly) thank Ludwig, and he told me to wait a moment and disappeared. When he came back, he handed me a signed copy of Fashion Etcetera, and I was elated. He laughed and told me to enjoy it. As I helped Pierce load his equipment into a cab, I told him to take the box, but he told me to hold on to it for him. When I got home, I went through the book while I ate dinner. Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I tore open the box as well. Inside I found another copy of the book, but this time the signature read “For Pierce and Ashley. Best Wishes from Sam.” Best indeed.