With the advent of rain, it’s officially sweater weather, and for a couple of weeks I’ve been thinking about the recent death of Irving Penn, the stark beauty of his subjects -- the angles of whippet-thin fashion models; the illuminated beauty of harshly voluptuous nudes; the exoticism of other lives -- Peruvian children, Hell’s Angels, New Guinea mud men; and an affinity for the inherent beauty of objects, from cigarette butts in pools of ash to tweeds with turtlenecks.
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