Lou Reed, “Self Portrait.” © Lou Reed Estate.
Image courtesy Laurent Girard, under fair use guidelines.

It was in the late nineties, at Lexington Labs. Lou Reed needed some help to print some of his negatives. He apparently had taken pictures for a while, and wanted to put a few images together for a show. He didn’t know what to ask for, he had to see what could be done before he would decide which way to go. He wanted to understand the process, so we thought it might be best to work together in my darkroom. Now, I’m gonna stop right here. I may sound all matter of fact, but inside I was completely shaken, meeting a teenage idol. I’ve listened to a lot of Velvet Underground and Lou Reed for a long time. One of the first tapes I had for my brand new Walkman in 1980! I was back to the kid inside, but I’m a professional and I couldn’t wait to start. I wanted to know what he would think about what I do. I knew his music, but he knew nothing about what I do.

Those days spent with Lou Reed, looking at negatives, figuring out what to print and how, were very special to me. It was the first time I collaborated with an artist who happens to work with photography for a particular project. The approach is so different than from that of a photographer’s (myself included). “Why not?” comes up a lot. I may find a solution. I may need to dig further, I get to discover things and tricks I wouldn’t have otherwise. And he was asking about everything. At the end he liked neutral matte and warm tone glossy. We’d print too dark, too light, even print some icebergs as negatives, looking like rocks. Crop here, and there. Everything looked like something else. It was a great process. Music to my ears. Birds and landscapes. A picture of timothy greenfield-sanders in Venice, and buildings at night, Laurie Anderson with a camera, and many other visual experiments. I was trying to match his speech with visual responses. A lot of images that I liked, and still do.

I was printing pictures of–or by–musicians almost everyday, the lab was a comfortable place to be, the darkroom quiet, and we kept the conversation to the images.

At that time I was also printing the transformer image by Mick Rock. One of the prints was pinned in my darkroom, so I didn’t have to say how much his music meant to me. Blind Spot was being produced at Lexington then, so Kim Caputo used the 3 maidens statue picture I took for Lou Reed to write an R.I.P. note to William Burroughs: “Thanks a bunch for giving us your naked lunch.” I was printing pictures of–or by–musicians almost everyday, the lab was a comfortable place to be, the darkroom quiet, and we kept the conversation to the images. I wanted to ask him so many questions, all the time, but kept it to a very minimum. That time, in my darkroom with Lou Reed, was about printing, trying to find ways to put images on paper. Playing with the scale, odd crops and other techniques.

The funny thing is, I was nervous about how his photographs would be received by the public. Very soon after, I would be done with the prints, a great number of people would see them, I knew there would be many opinions. In fact, I felt like a silent partner, proud when they were praised, and upset when put down. It must not be easy to be a part of different art communities; there is always the one label that sticks. I’ve enjoyed his music for a long time, and now his images.

That’s my story of Lou Reed, thanks to my darkroom.

Sad that he’s gone. I am.

Laurent Girard is Master Printer at Griffin Editions.
His remembrance of Lou Reed is excerpted with permission from his blog, “A Printer’s Life.”

More on tributes and Lou Reed here.




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