Frank Gehry: Architect: Detail of Disney Hall: Los Angeles, California.

Death becomes us: We announce our arrivals and departures: We were here. Death resonates. It is finite.

Vulnerability is something fragile: A state of the heart and mind filled with keys and chords that play in various languages of emotions: Vulnerability may be mankind’s rarest and exclusive reveal:

I had shot Frank Gehry’s portrait on three separate occasions: the last time I saw him was at a dinner with architects Richard Wurman, Moshe Safdie, maestro Yo Yo Ma and more.

The last portrait I made was for a new project. The project about client/architect relationships: That day we had spent an hour when- – I raised my eyes from filming to freeze frame: Frank had tears in his eyes: The moment could have been pulled from Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead (the hero protecting integrity with vulnerable fragility aka passions.) The moment might have been seen as a singular musical string not heard: Possibly a vulnerable remembrance in the midst: He began to cry real tears; it was not bawling: It was the naked emotional reveal: His heart was spent: I continued to capture one frame at a time:

The shutter’s reverberation heard, seemed to beg for more- – Frank’s eyes swelling up- -I paused the camera- -He finished his story. He felt a bit embarrassed- -like a man wading naked alongside Poseidon- -like the first time a man lifts his toupee to reveal a known truth: I only heard Frank’s lips uttering- -Please don’t show these pictures:

My response convinced him to continue: I would not allow a soul to see the pics in tears. The most famous architect in the world was trusting me- -saying, “Hello.”

Frank Gehry: Architect: In his studio: Los Angeles California: Sitting in a chair he designed.

My camera has seen revealing vulnerability shared in many moments: Zaha Hadid, Oscar Niemeyer, Philip Johnson and more had shared secrets, stories and passions: A few thousand portraits in my career- -my eyes delight in the whispers the whispered…the worlds’ that are not mine, yet meant to be seen if only for my fractional focus. The Gehry heart driven by visceral passions are my keepsakes: His reveal was pure raw sacrificing pulsating heart of a mind’s soul.

The train bounced from New Haven to New York. I had spent a day and change as part of the Yale Architectureal Review: I was looking out the window: The sky’s clock was anew: I could see day fold into twilight: I remembered railing about the importance of the camera in architecture. A bunch of heavy weights led by Greg Lynn were participating: Zaha Hadid, Peter Eisenman, Frank Gehry, Stanley Tigerman and more: Their eyes mostly rolled up somewhere above. I did catch Gehry and Zaha nodding in my favor. It. Was a good day to remember.

There is something intimate about sitting on a train; Connecticut views were vanishing: The world passes you- -you pass through the world: I dream of remaining in the utopia in view: I awakened to a certain intimate reality- -I was sitting next to Frank Gehry: It was me and Frank: The moments most famous name in architecture: Quickly the train compartment was devoid of any sounds but the wheels on the tracks. In the quiet I asked him if he would like to see his “works” in my pictures. I handed him my Iphone. I have photographed Frank three times over the years. This moment was a bit different: I watched his eyes> He wasn’t merely looking> he was examining the details that he had designed: His eyes and mind disappeared into a mirrored reflection of a life lived- -possibly foretold.

A very attractive woman was trying to gain his attention: He looked in her direction: He looked back at me: He was clear about what mattered: His eyes leaned into his work- -my photograph- -the eye on the prize. Eyes up: “How come I have never seen this perspective before.”

Unique architectural designs beg to be touched: It was Jacques Herzog who taught me that. To feel the materials is to know something more: To integrate dreams with intellectual reality: The meaning of something built from the soul: The naked meaning of what “more” can look like: Everyone photographs the Frank Gehry shapes- -as they should: Though to allow yourself to fondle and caress any and every Gehry’- -illuminates the reality:

Architect: Frank Gehry: Spruce Street: New York, New York.

Cyclops and the beautiful Sirens: Real or imagined when you think about what you are told or have read about…it appears in your mind as a nepenthe: Then the light of a legacy become real: Dreams remain embedded for lifetimes: The legacy of Bilbao became alive for millions- – states of reverie for others: Stammering cameras sprint(ed) across nations: An ounce of history may be captured: The army of notions capturing a Frank Gehry is marching forward: A journey to Mecca is afoot.

Sometimes, until you caress reality, history is a “Rubik” of false rumors: Imagine Homer’s Odysseus view of Troy, the One day Frank asked me to photograph his Maggie’s Centre in Dundee, Scotland. I cannot explain my judgment but I did not make that day happen: Emotionally the project honored a cancer center a friend in Charles Jencks and his wife Maggie. I will always remember my remiss: I will imagine what the building may have looked like in person through my lens: I will imagine what it would felt like to caress- -and toy with what might have been.

Do I speak about all unique architecture this way? Certainly! But Frank Gehry has passed and not another moment will become: Frank is like a fabled bird: We might imagine his wings spread/spreading- -the cuddly intellectual in flight: His work is here, there, in all spirits of the mind.

Architect: Frank Gehry: The Louis Vuitton Museum in Paris: The Fondation Louis Vuitton

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