I have always been in awe of Nadav Kander. Repped by Bill Stockland at Stockland-Martel, Kander was always a name that crept-up when you wanted to take a subject everyone was familiar with and make an unexpected picture: “If I see another picture of Tom Cruise with tousled hair, white shirt and a megawatt grin I will stab my eyes out with a pica pole, effing hell, someone call Kandar”—if you actually got Nadav past the publicist of an A-List celebrity I would give you gold in the Photo Editor Olympics.
It all started for me with the book entitled, Beauty’s Nothing (read about it here) where his photographic style was so distinct and arresting I figured I had to try and land him for an assignment. After the book he continued to surprise me with his creative directional use of gels (normally I can’t stand gels) and dark, moody, unsettled portraiture and landscapes for which he is now known.
After many attempts to try and land him I finally did to shoot an athlete portfolio in London that combined lots of creativity and plenty of room to run the results in the magazine. When the assignments unexpectedly turned into a cover and time with the subject plus space in the magazine suddenly shrunk I knew I had lost my opportunity and needed to change to a more conventional photographer. The last thing I wanted was a shoot with Nadav loaded with art direction intended to strip away his distinct style (“can you make it bright and tack sharp focus?”) and no pages to run any photos.
So, I walked away.
I don’t want to hire a great photographer and then hack the shit out of their work in the magazine… at least not on the first encounter.