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Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

Working Process

Sometime in 2007 I got a call asking me to come in and see Lee - no further explanation. I was intrigued, as I’d known Lee for years, so I went along. In our meeting, he told me that he wanted me to make a photo book abouthis working process, following one collection from its inception at the drawing stage to the grand finale of the showin Paris six months later. This would be quite a challenge, I thought, as I had only ever worked on self-generated projects before, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to make work about the beauty and elegance of a fashion house. I knew how to make a photo book, though, and Lee assured me I’d have free rein to do my own thing - and added that he wanted it to be ‘dirty and messy’ like some of my previous books. ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘this will be your book and I will be the subject’.

The only probIem was timing. I was already involved in a big project in Jerusalem, and I asked if we could put off the collaboration for a couple of years. Lee insisted that it had to be the next season, the season that became known as ‘The Horn of Plenty’. Once I started work, I realised why: Lee saw this collection as a kind of grand retrospective, a recycling of ideas from the last 15 years of his production. For the next six months, I spent long hours in his studio in London, and later in the atelier in Paris, observing, recording and taking pictures. As is often the case with this type of photographic project there were long hours of waiting for ‘moments’ to happen, but by the time the show in Paris was over I felt I had enough pictures to make the book work.

For the next six weeks I worked in the darkroom with Philippe, my assistant, and we ended up with 800 work prints pinned to my studio wall. In the following weeks, Lee would come over to work on the edit. He wasn’t interested in looking at images on a computer screen, so we did it the old-fashioned way: moving prints around on the wall, laying them on the floor, reprinting, reorganizing. Finally, I had an enormous maquette-type scrapbook made and we transferred the prints into it. Something was missing, though. We both wanted this book to be like no other fashion book, and decided that the book needed other images to complement the images of Lee’s working process. I went out with my 10x8 field camera and started to take landscape photos of London and waste grounds near where Lee grew up, as well as images of landfill sites and recycling plants in places as diverse as Nottinghamshire, England and the Negev desert in Israel. These images would add to Lee’s ‘recycling’ theme, not to mention my own ‘dirty and messy’ reputation.

Finally, after months of shooting and printing and editing, I left Lee alone with the maquette. The story was his and I felt happy that I had been able to provide him with the source material to tell it. The final version, the one that is reproduced here, is the last edit Lee made. It is not just a book about a season in a fashion house. It is also a personal record of Lee’s imagination, his vision of himself, and a tribute to the many important and lasting relationships he had with all those who worked alongside him.

Lee was an extremely guarded person, and I was surprised and honored to be given full access to his creative process throughout this collaboration. It gives me great joy now to share the results with those who knew and admired him.

For more info visit Tate Britain

Installation shots courtesy of Tate Britain

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