Miles Davis by Francine Winham

When I was living in New York, a local bar advertised for paintings to hang there.  I offered my pictures, which were put up immediately and hung for...

When I was living in New York, a local bar advertised for paintings to hang there.  I offered my pictures, which were put up immediately and hung for several weeks.  I remember a customer at the bar remarking I had “balls” to get up so close.  Bad at taking compliments - especially based on a falsity - I confessed to him I had used a long lens (300mm) and was actually far away in the pit below.

I took this photo at Newport, long before the days when Miles would arrogantly turn his back on the audience to play.  Years later at the Nice Jazz Festival, I had to clamber over equipment backstage to get a shot of his face.

Here Miles is nursing a sore lip, a feeling most trumpet players will recognise and identify with.