if, then: photographers

A few months ago, Marilu and I got a flat tire while driving from Winslow to Phoenix. After being a bit rattled by the blowout, we both thought, "Where's Amy Stein when you need her?" We were happy to be alive and would have gladly sat for a photo. Along that same train of thought...

If the overgrown mess that is my "backyard" catches fire this summer, I'd call Larry Schwarm before I call 911. The next time I go backpacking, I'd like to have Jill Greenberg along. If she's photographing the bears, they can't eat me. But if I'm on a tamer hike in Arizona, maybe Mark Klett will come along to photograph some saguaro cactus. If I were a rock star, I'd hope that Jim Herrington would meet up with me on the road somewhere between gigs. I don't usually set a formal table, but if I did, I'd let Laura Letinsky in after a meal to do her thing. On an epic cross country road trip, I'd save room in my car for Stephen Shore and Timothy Briner. If there was no car involved, I'd want Mike Brodie to watch my back. If I were a hipster L.A. actor, I'd tell my publicist that only Amanda Friedman could photograph me. Lastly, God forbid, if my freelance work ever dried up, I'd want Phillip Toledano to photograph my deserted office.