Edward Weston
[Photographer, b. 1886, Highland Park, Illinois, d. 1958, Wildcat Hill, California.]

 To see the Thing itself is essential: the quintessence revealed direct without the fog of impressionism... This then: to photograph a rock, have it look like a rock, but be more than a rock. Significant presentation—not interpretation. 
 By all means tell your Board that pubic hair has definitely been part of my development as an artist, tell them it has been the most important part, that I like it black, brown, red or golden, curly or straight, all sizes and shapes. (To Museum of Modern Art curator Beaumont Newhall, after being told the museum was reluctant to show nudes revealing pubic hair.) 
 A photograph has no value unless it looks exactly like a photograph and nothing else. 
 I am having another reaction, from my statement that I could go through life with one woman! Ridiculous thought! Imagine never again having the thrill of courting,—the conquest,—new lips to find,—new bodies to caress. It would be analogous to making my last print, nailing it to the wall forever, seeing it there, until I would despise it or no longer notice it was there. 
 As great a picture can be made as one’s mental capacity—no greater. Art cannot be taught; it must be self-inspiration, though the imagination may be fired and the ambition and work directed by the advice and example of others. 
 Art is an interpreter of the inexpressible, and therefore it seems a folly to try to convey its meaning afresh by means of words. 
 What have I, that brings these many women to offer themselves to me? I do not go out of my way seeking them,—I am not a stalwart virile male, exuding sex, nor am I the romantic mooning poet type some love, nor the dashing Don Juan bent on conquest. 
 My true program is summed up in one word: life. I expect to photograph anything suggested by that word which appeals to me. 
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