Some of the people that I photographed as sticks became much more voluptuous, much rounder, in some cases dramatically so, and I think they're even more beautiful.

If somebody's pointing a trembling finger at your pants and saying you shouldn't be doing that, follow that finger back, go up the arm and look at the head that's behind it, because there's almost always something fairly woolly in there.

We live in an age where anonymity is growing in magnitude like a bomb going off.

I'm guilty of extraordinary naivete, I suppose. But it's a naivete that I really don't want to abandon, not even now.

They were without clothes before I got there, and they were without clothes when I left.

It's really, really hard to make it as a fine-art photographer exclusively.

I don't photograph any two people who are remotely the same.