I learned long ago that it’s best to approach your heroes with trepidation, because they rarely live up to expectations. So when I met Elliott Erwitt in Perpignan, France, years ago, when we both had shows for Visa Pour l’Image, I was reluctant to talk to him. Imagine my surprise when he asked to trade prints. I upped the ante and asked whether if I bought his book, “Personal Best,” he would sign it for me.
“Don’t buy my book,” he said. “It’s much too heavy to carry on the plane.”
Thus continued my fascination with all things Erwitt.
So what if some have called him “notoriously succinct?” Even he warns off others, insisting, “I’m not a good interviewee.’’ I’ve always been looking for an excuse to sit down with him. In his studio, we are surrounded by unforgettable images from the 20th century, including one of Marilyn Monroe, who looks down on us as we speak. Some of his photographs are so ingrained in the public psyche that I didn’t even realize they were his until I started digging through his books. His latest, “Regarding Women,” is about, well, women.
“It just seemed like a good idea,” he said of the book. “I have a lot of pictures of women and some of them are pretty good pictures and I thought it would make a book. It’s as simple as that.”
He is matter-of-fact in explaining the method that has led him to produce about a book a year: He is constantly combing his archives for things he missed and compiling themes he loves. He took a lot of beach pictures, hence a beach book. He likes dogs — a lot. “I have eight dog books out,” he said. “And I don’t have to give them prints or anything.”
A lot has been said about Mr. Erwitt’s keen eye for the incongruous or absurd and his wry humor. His favorite interview question happened in Moscow when someone asked him — seriously — “Were you there when you took that picture?” His reply: probably.
But when I was starting out, I stared endlessly at the photograph of his wife and first child lying on their bed, cat nearby. His celebration of the ordinary has always struck me. He has always stayed passionate about his personal work. But he conceded, those images don’t always pay the bills.
“As you probably are aware, pictures of Marilyn Monroe sell more easily than pictures of your next-door neighbor,” he said. “I must say that commercial work drives me too. It pays the bills. I make no excuses for my commercial work. On the contrary, I’m delighted to have it.”
And the commercial work usually creates an environment in which to do his personal work.
“I don’t think a lot,” he said. “That’s all I’ve ever done, so it comes naturally. I’ve had some very good subjects: my kids, my wives, my travels and my leisure time. And usually on the backs of commercial work.”
Mr. Erwitt has always been able to keep his personal vision throughout all his work. The two are so intertwined it’s hard to tell them apart. When pressed about what holds it all together, he offers little. But he speaks with his photographs. He attributes a lot to luck. But any experienced photographer knows luck carries you only so far. Luck doesn’t sustain a career spanning more than 60 years.
Or does it?
“I came to New York to start a career,” he said. “I had the good luck of meeting Steichen, Capa and Roy Stryker, and they were instrumental in getting me my first jobs. And that was it.”
Shortly after Stryker gave him his break, Mr. Erwitt was drafted into the Army and got another lucky break.
“Half of them went to Korea and got decimated,” he said. “The other half of them went to Europe and had a wonderful time, and that was me.” It was there, in Verdun, working at a PX, where he met his first wife, the one in the photo.
And then there was that time in 1959 that he just happened to be in Moscow, taking pictures of a kitchen display.
“Well, the vice president of the United States shows up where you are, in Russia of all places, what else are you gonna do?” he said of the historic confrontation between Richard M. Nixon and Nikita S. Khrushchev. “I went there for Westinghouse refrigerators. The fact that I was in the display kitchen when they arrived was just luck. They were right in front of me for 40 minutes. Just me and them and a huge crowd behind them.”
Young photographers frequently ask me what advice I have for people starting out in the business. In this rapidly changing industry, I wrestle with how to answer truthfully. Naturally, I ask Mr. Erwitt the same question.
“Whenever I have a talk or something and someone always asks how do I get into the racket? My advice is to do it as a hobby, and maybe you can progress from there, but don’t do it for a living,” he said.
“The chances you succeed are…” It’s at this point he is interrupted by a cuckoo clock striking the hour. We laugh. “A gift from my daughter.”
“Are very slight.” He finishes. “Personalities, celebrities, you can’t go wrong. Take the lousiest pix in the world, you cannot go wrong. Maybe that’s the advice … next time somebody asks me. Take pix of nobody but celebrities. They don’t have to be good. They just have to get it in the center. And enough room for cropping.”
Either that, or be reincarnated as a monkey.
“I have an anecdote for you,” he said. “I was hired to do a fashion shoot with a monkey. And the monkey was supposed to ape the same movements as the model. I discovered that my day rate was $250 a day. And the monkey’s day rate was $350 a day. This is a true story.”
And he was probably there.
Todd Heisler is a staff photographer for The New York Times. Follow @ErwittElliott, @heislerphoto and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
