I’m going through a lot of old magazines ripping out the photos I like and tossing the other 99.5% of the paper.

One thing I noticed in the stack of what I’ve kept, the models don’t look at the camera very often. I sometimes tell new models “don’t look at the camera unless you mean it.”

I look at all of these thousands of images in the magazines I’m tossing out, and I have a visceral reaction to compelling lighting, compositions, dances of color on the page. When I look at a photo in which the model is just standing there deer in headlights waiting for the shutter to click, supremely unconfident, no matter what is going on in the rest of the image, I have a strong dislike for the whole. If it is an interesting setting, I am even angry at the photographer for wasting it on an uncompelling subject.

To me, photography is only a rush when it feels challenging, and if the model just stands there looking at the lens, waiting to have their picture taken, it is uninteresting. I don’t like when they submit to the process, when they are having their picture taken rather than being interesting.

Unless you have the confidence to stare down the lens or tell a story, don’t go near it, the lens will know you are weak. The lens is predatory. To use it is always to be hunting for something. When the prey is immediately submissive, the hunt is dull.

Decoration is a craft. Art is an anti-science. The pinnacle height of achievement in a craft is the perfect modification of a material into a vision. The pinnacle height of achievement in an art is the perfect modification of a vision into a metaphor. Some things can be both. Art cannot exist without craft. Craft cannot exist without art. Yet there is a vast difference from the goals of artists and craftspeople. Craft has a finite goal, the production of something tangible. Art has an infinite goal, the induction of something intangible. Craft relaxes. Art excites.

I was wandering around Soho last night with my friend Echo, and we stopped outside an apparently popular nightlife corner (Spring and Renwick Streets) where there are several bars clustered together. I like watching people. How they communicate, interact, represent themselves, it’s all fascinating. I was really surprised how obviously bad most of the clubwear outfits looked. Granted, this seemed to be a college and Wall Street wannabe crowd, but you ought to be at least able to get one piece of an outfit right.

Choice questions for the girls came to mind…

• “Sweetheart, are you color blind?”
• “You’ve got money for cosmopolitans, but not a mirror?”
• “Did you loot that during a blackout?”

A few had put in some effort and they really stood out, especially when they walked to the bar across the street and nearly tripped every other step clomping along in their expensive high heels, looking more like they were wearing ski boots than anything in the range of a Jimmy Choo.

One of my first thoughts as we had approached this corner was “hey, look, cute girls hanging out on the sidewalk” (they were in line for the door), but after hanging around for a few minutes my somewhat jaded fashion photographer sensibilities kicked in full force and all I saw was sad confused people.