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I am really happy to have Karen here and Albert—you are in the presence of true superstars. These are photographers who have truly pushed and expanded the medium, each developing their own voices. They’ve done an extraordinary job of making themselves into artists whose careers we follow closely. They’re Pathfinders.
Today, I’ll be standing in for Kimiko Yoshida. She couldn’t make it because her husband had a medical condition. He’s fine but couldn’t travel, so we have sound bites from her as we go through the presentation. English is her third or fourth language, so she’s sometimes hard to understand, but if you listen closely, you’ll get the gist. I’ll paraphrase at the end, but she wanted to be present in some way.
If you look at the three photographers—Yoshida, Watson, and Knorr—you’ll see they are very different. What we like to do is explore the intersection of photography and contemporary art, and all three of these photographers have expanded the medium in unique ways. They’ve made themselves into voices that are truly influential. It’s amazing to do a show like this.
The last time we had Christopher Bucklow here, nobody had traditional cameras. This time, all three photographers work with cameras and photographic equipment, but they do something very special and unique with them. I wrote a press release for the show, and while it may seem a bit haphazard to put these three together, it’s actually quite cohesive.
I didn’t want this to be the type of talk where each photographer speaks for 20 minutes in turn. They’ve all presented here before, and that format would have been a cop-out. I wanted to keep this episodic, conversational, and engaging. We’re going to discuss touchpoints, concepts, the development of their work, their aesthetic conditions, why they make the pictures they make, and who their inspirations were.
One thing I want to mention is their multicultural backgrounds. Knorr was born in Germany, grew up in Puerto Rico, and now lives in London. Watson was born in Scotland and now lives in New York, spending part of his time in Morocco. Yoshida was born in Japan to a prominent Samurai family. She fled Japan because she didn’t want her identity to be fixed; she wanted to develop as an artist. Now, she lives in Paris and Venice.
Their work is multicultural, international, and intertextual in terms of the symbols, signs, and environments they engage with. This exhibition brings them together because of their shared exploration of identity, cultural heritage, and the interplay between reality and fantasy.
The first paragraph of the press release reads:
“Photography as an art form has the unique ability to capture and convey complex narratives, emotions, and cultural commentaries through visual imagery. The work of Kimiko Yoshida, Albert Watson, and Karen Knorr presents three photographic journeys that expand reality. Each artist blends dreamlike aesthetics, identity quests, fashion, and cultural references into their imagery. Despite their unique perspectives and styles, they share a common thread in their exploration of identity, cultural heritage, and the interplay between reality and fantasy. This exhibition champions their photographic styles, examining how each uses dream images, imagination, fashion, and cultural references to create compelling and thought-provoking art.”
That’s the framework for why we put these three together. Now, let’s let them talk about their work.
Kimiko Yoshida: Evolving Identity Through the ‘Brides’ Series
Luntz: The first work that I want to talk about is Yoshida’s. Her development as an artist began with her ‘Brides’ series. She fled Japan because she felt her identity was fixed and couldn’t evolve there as an artist. Arriving in Paris as an outsider who didn’t speak the language, she was determined to be an artist and a photographer. In her work, brides symbolize potential. In many cultures, once a woman marries, her identity is defined in relation to her husband, and she no longer evolves. Yoshida, however, always wanted to evolve.
In the ‘Brides’ series, she portrays herself as a bride from different cultures, traveling through time and space using semi-precious objects. She paints herself the same color as the background, emerging and disappearing within each image. This creates a sense of potential without being fixed by any single identity. She moves fluidly through time and space.
Beyond the Brides: Exploring Historical Figures and Identity
After the ‘Brides’ series, Yoshida turned to a painting series where she took the place of famous sitters, drawing inspiration from historical figures and iconic artists. She also created Rorschach images, exploring the formation of identity from abstract patterns.
Reinventing Tradition: Hanging Scrolls and Cultural Collaboration
Her most recent work features hanging scrolls created in collaboration with master artisans who do silk screens on kimonos. Yoshida has returned to Japan as a celebrated artist, working within her native culture but maintaining her fluid identity—one that is never fixed and is constantly reinventing itself.
Karen Knorr: Capturing Punk Culture and Questioning Identity
Luntz: So, Karen, let’s talk about the punk series and where you came from.
Knorr: I arrived in England on July 4, 1976, from Paris, where I had been studying fine art for three years. Before Paris, I lived in Puerto Rico, and before that, Germany. But coming across the subculture and style on the streets of Chelsea and in London—this is what I encountered. These were the nightclubs in and around Covent Garden. These young people were rebels, challenging the status quo, which at the time was the first wave of neoliberalist politics in the UK. Margaret Thatcher had broken the miners, remodeled, and de-industrialized Britain. These were the reactions against that, as well as a reaction against a music industry that had become fixed.
These were young people from art schools who made their own clothes. These were not designer clothes. Even Vivienne Westwood, who was there at the beginning, fed her ideas from the street. These were people who would leave their suburban homes with black bin bags full of clothes, which they would change into and enter this world.
Challenging Privilege and Reinventing Narratives
After Punks, my focus shifted to my parents’ lives. They moved to a flat in Belgravia, where they found a very good deal on a beautiful house. I became very interested in questioning my own background of white privilege. My parents were a post-war American success story, multilingual, patriotic Americans who chose to live in London. I started photographing them and their friends—gentlemen and country life.
There was always a radical break in my work. I have always disrupted the image, whether through the content or the type of people I photographed. With the Punk series, I worked collaboratively with Olivier Richon, challenging the individualistic idea of authorship in photography. We co-authored that work.
In more recent work, I mix genres and storytelling devices. For example, in an image taken in Herculaneum, I reinvented the fable of ‘The Lion and the Mouse.’ I assume most of you know the story—the mouse disturbs the lion, who threatens to kill him, but the mouse eventually saves the lion. I mix different genres and storytelling devices, drawing inspiration from diverse sources. The Indian series, for example, refers to the Ramayana and Mahabharata, with animals acting as fictitious avatars of the characters.
Albert Watson: From Graphic Design to Iconic Photography
Luntz: Albert, you’ve consistently shot campaigns that produce images of cultural icons, objects with symbolic significance, or landscapes like the Isle of Skye. Can you talk about how your work has developed from the beginning to now?
Watson: I went to art college for seven years, where I did a regular degree in graphic design. Then, I went to film school for three years, and along the way, I did one day a week in photography. The reason I mention this is because if you look at the work I do, you can see the graphic design influence. I came out of film school as a director, so you combine those two things together—directing people and the graphic design background—and it shows in my work.
For example, if you look at a picture I did in 1998 and another from 27 years before that, you’ll see the connection. It’s graphic design. Sometimes the pictures are very simple, like ‘The Golden Boy,‘ which I shot on an 8×10 camera. It was just a child sprayed with gold metallic paint—there are only five frames of that image because he got worried and wanted to go home. Another example is the shot in Paris, which again shows the graphic influence and almost a cinematic feel.
I have always had an interest in everything photographic—still lifes, landscapes, personalities, fashion. I shot a ton of fashion, including many Vogue and Rolling Stone covers. I’ve been involved in both the artistic and commercial sides of photography, and I found both equally interesting. If a Japanese drinks company gave me a bottle cap to shoot, I found that just as fascinating as a Rolling Stone cover.
One of the interesting challenges with my career has been identity. I’ve always been versatile, working across so many genres—fashion, still lifes, landscapes, and celebrity portraits. But with that versatility came an identity problem. People sometimes didn’t realize that the same photographer did all these different types of work. I didn’t see it as a problem, but it meant that my identity as a photographer wasn’t fixed.
My work is often graphic and simple. There’s a connection between The Golden Boy and my shot of Steve Jobs. There’s also a link between my surrealist-inspired series of David Bowie and objects like the glove of Tutankhamun or Elvis Presley’s gold lamé suit. It’s not about the technicalities of the photograph but about the significance of the object and the idea of fame.
The Isle of Skye: Atmospheric Landscapes and Creative Challenges
Luntz: Speaking of versatility, let’s talk about your Isle of Skye series. How did that inspiration come about, and how does it figure into your body of work?
Watson: I spent two very painful summers in the Isle of Skye with my parents in a tent. I went back deliberately in October because I wanted weather—mist, rain, wind—all the elements that could give atmospheric pictures. I was terrified of postcard-perfect weather, so I waited for storms and dramatic skies. I spent days just photographing the surface of water, capturing the textures and movements.
When you do landscapes, you don’t necessarily have to recognize the location. It could be Lake Superior, for all you know. But I knew it was part of the Skye project, and that’s all that mattered to me. I’m not a landscape photographer by trade, but I challenged myself as one because I love testing my creative limits, just as I do with fashion, still lifes, and portraits.
Karen Knorr and Albert Watson: Challenging Personal Style and Playful Experimentation
Luntz: Karen, when you shoot pictures, is personal style important to you? How do your pictures develop?
Knorr: I don’t believe in personal style. Like Albert, it’s about challenging yourself and finding a new form for each project. For example, my ‘India Song’ series is a long-running project that comes from a fascination with India’s syncretic and hybrid culture. It’s such an old world, layered and complex. I studied film, so the lighting in those portraits, which I did collaboratively with Olivier Richon, was inspired by German Expressionist cinema. We took off-camera lighting and staged collaborative portraits with people we befriended in clubs.
I keep challenging myself because otherwise, it would be boring. Each series and subject matter is self-directed. I never let the fashion industry define me, especially since there were so few women photographers in fashion. There was a clear gender divide, so I chose not to go down that path. I’ve also been teaching for 38 years, so I’m constantly mentoring and being inspired by others.
Luntz: And Albert, your style is really about creating a challenge, finding a way to make each picture your own. No one else would have taken that monkey with the gun shot. How did that come about?
Watson: The monkey series was quite an adventure. I met this monkey on a commercial job. The trainer told me the monkey was upstairs having tea, so I went up, and sure enough, he was at the table, blowing on his tea to cool it down. That’s when I realized this monkey was special. Whatever I did, the monkey would imitate me. If I put my hand on my head, the monkey did the same.
I was fascinated by his intelligence and playfulness. At the end of the job, I asked to book him again. The monkey remembered me when we met a month later, and I had all these props ready for him, which he loved. We had fun playing around with different objects, and that’s how the ‘monkey with the gun’ photo came about.
There’s always this debate about anthropomorphism and whether it’s right to dress animals up. But I never felt like I was forcing him to do anything. He enjoyed the attention, loved the props, and was always playful. It’s about capturing that playfulness and creating an image that makes people think or smile.
Knorr: I find it fascinating how playful your work is. It challenges people’s perceptions of animals and their interactions with the world.
Watson: Exactly. People respond to playful images, sometimes more than they do to serious art. It’s funny how you can spend days perfecting a photograph only to see a cat in a hat get millions of likes on Instagram. But at the end of the day, it’s all about evoking a reaction, whether it’s laughter, curiosity, or introspection.
Conceptual Thinking and the Importance of Play
Watson: I didn’t want to take simple, cute pictures with the monkey. I wanted to create something conceptual, something with a narrative. I didn’t want to do anything cruel or exploitative, so I came up with various props and scenarios that the monkey would naturally engage with. One of the props was a magician’s outfit, which the monkey loved. There was no coercion—he genuinely enjoyed the attention and playing with the props.
The interesting thing about the gun photo is that it was a real gun, unloaded, but heavy. When I handed it to the monkey, the first thing he did was hold it upside down because it was more comfortable that way. I realized that to get the shot I wanted, I’d have to take the photo upside down and then flip it in post-production. That’s the magic of photography—sometimes you have to find unconventional ways to get the image you envision.
You see, it all goes back to my background in graphic design. In graphic design, we were trained to always think about the concept behind an image. It wasn’t just about aesthetics; it was about meaning and narrative. I still apply that approach today. I want every image to have a story or an idea behind it. For example, the photo of Elvis Presley’s gold lamé suit. Technically, anyone in this room could have taken that shot—it was just a suit on a hanger. But the significance of the suit, the idea of Elvis’ presence being represented through his clothing, that’s what made the image powerful.
Luntz: That’s fascinating. It’s like you’re creating visual metaphors.
Watson: Exactly. It’s about finding meaning in objects and scenarios. I’m more interested in the concept behind the image than the technical execution. That’s what keeps the work interesting for me.
Aesthetics and the Pursuit of Beauty
Luntz: One thing that’s really amazing about all three of you is how lush and rich the surfaces are, whether in black and white or color. Do you see yourselves challenging conventional aesthetics? What are your ideas about beauty? Do you want your pictures to be beautiful?
Knorr: I’ve always believed in visual seduction. There’s a pleasure in looking, and that’s one way to engage the audience with my work. I’m not afraid of using aesthetics to draw people in. Beauty has always been central to my work, but it’s also about challenging what is considered beautiful. By placing animals in grand architectural spaces or blending documentary realism with surrealism, I’m inviting viewers to question and reimagine traditional notions of beauty.
Watson: I’m not sure I consciously think about beauty. I think about the impact and the story behind the image. Sometimes, that ends up being beautiful, and sometimes it doesn’t. In the beginning, I struggled a lot with technique. I would take a photo on Monday and think it was a masterpiece, only to be disappointed by Wednesday. I realized the problem was technical, so I spent years mastering technique. But the goal was never beauty for beauty’s sake. It was about clarity of vision and making the image as powerful as possible.
Knorr: It’s interesting because I see your images as incredibly beautiful. But they’re also haunting and complex, and that’s what makes them memorable.
Watson: I think I’m more obsessed with surfaces and textures. I want the image to be rich, to have depth, to make you want to reach out and touch it. Whether it’s the gold lamé of Elvis’ suit or the misty waters of the Isle of Skye, I want the viewer to feel immersed in the image.
Knorr: I completely agree. Beauty is just the entry point. The complexity and the narrative beneath the surface are what keep people looking.
Mastering Technique and the Creative Process
Watson: I never trained formally as a photographer. My background was in graphic design and film, so I had to undertake an intensive self-education in the technical aspects of photography. It was painful for me—it didn’t come naturally. I’ve met photographers who are 97 to 98% technicians, but they don’t have much to say artistically. I’ve noticed that women are less guilty of this; they tend to be more creative. I’ve taught classes and found that women are often more innovative, whereas the men were technically precise but sometimes boring.
However, I realized that mastering technique was essential. If you hold on to creativity and then learn the technical side, it opens doors. You become capable of solving any problem—like shooting in a completely mirrored room, as I did recently. My advantage is that I spent 40 years working analog, which was excellent training. It required precision and discipline, unlike today’s digital photographers who rely heavily on retouchers and shortcuts.
Knorr: Their attention to detail isn’t always there. And attention to detail is everything.
Watson: Exactly. In analog, you had to be meticulous. I think young photographers today are too quick to say, “I’ll fix it in post.” They rely on digital manipulation rather than getting it right in-camera. But if you truly master your technique, it amplifies your creativity. It allows you to realize your vision without limitations.
Luntz: Especially Karen, in your work, attention to detail has to be perfect.
Knorr: My mother was a photojournalist, so we always had a darkroom at home. I was teaching myself photographic techniques even before I went to a photography course. My first course was a part-time program in professional photography at Harrow School of Technology and Art, as it was called then. We played with all the equipment, and it was great because we weren’t given strict briefs—we could create our own. That freedom was incredibly life-affirming and allowed me to experiment and develop my vision early on.