Madonna

Madonna on stage at Wembley Stadium on the first night of the Blonde Ambition Tour. Taken from the photographer’s pit on a Nikon FE2 and 80-200 f4.5 lens, using Ilford XP1.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.

I was the one Liz Rosenberg would call with new projects; she called with a singer from the East Village to send to my studio in the West Village. Liz was very enthusiastic about this one, "Madonna",... read more just one name like the soccer player from Brazil, said she was the new Marilyn Monroe, I didn't believe her. The girl had barely recorded one unreleased demo, which certainly didn't captivate my Dylanesque taste buds. I recall her arriving alone, putting on her own makeup, and fashioning a bizarre outfit, a spiked belt slung between her thighs, Dubious, I readied my cameras. But I was pleasantly surprised; she and I had a grand time that day, no big deal, just a wonderful playmate for a photographer who loved making pictures, two children in a sandbox for 6 hours. We ran off several series of studio pictures, changing styles of light and clothing and then we hit the streets of the Village and Soho. My usual haunts, but Madonna was so relaxed, she would grab a passers-by, jump down in a crack between dingy doors, unzip her fly on the steps of the cathedral, or hang like Jesus on a playground fence. Just easy, just play, nothing special, we danced together all day. A couple days later she stopped by to pick up the contact sheets, casual and friendly; I liked her so much but I still didn't believe her to be a future master of the cultural universe. On the way out she paused and looked back at me as if for the first time to consider me as a man; she turned and bid farewell, our relationship peaked in the sandbox just where it belonged. I've since appreciated how wrong I was about her music and her potential for success. Raw talent is only one of the required ingredients for becoming a cultural icon; also required is an unshakeable sense of one's own presence and a deep knowledge of one's own path into the future. This is what certain performers possess and in that sense Madonna is a star among stars.