Sporty Spice
“Oh God, this guy is already trying to take over my shoot!"
Over email, Walter Iooss, Jr. suggested that we meet in midtown Manhattan. He described a dynamic shot, with him looking heroically between the canyon of skyscrapers, that we could make together at 72nd St and Columbus Ave. Having had a photographer subject try to take over a previous shoot, I'm sensitive to this sort of suggestion. Nevertheless, when I gently insisted that we shoot at his summer home in Montauk, NY, he backed off and welcomed me to come visit him there.
From the beginning, I was intimidated to arrange a sitting with him. Straight up, this guy scared me. Iooss represented old-school photography that I had never quite identified with. I saw him as the uber-masculine shooter, depicting athletes at their peak with confidence and ultimate strength. My own photographic heroes tended to be awkward, conflicted people whose work was fueled as much by doubt as by conviction.
It was a long drive, coming from New Jersey (I even packed a lunch, with one hand on the wheel and another holding a sandwich). I arrived just on time, and Walter welcomed me confidently into his home. I met his wife, and he gave me a proper tour of his space, including his epic photography collection in the basement (from Arnold Newman and Annie Leibovitz to James Nachtwey and Neil Leifer).
He announced that we would wrap at exactly 6:30 so we could go to dinner. I joked that he wanted to quit just as the light was getting good. As one of photography's great students of light, I knew he'd appreciate the irony. He smiled, but the 6:30 deadline stood.
We started at a nearby beach, but the midday sun wasn't doing us any favors, so we returned to the house. I couldn't stop looking at the swimming pool. Framed by grass and open sky, it felt like the obvious setting. Walter wasn't enthusiastic about getting in.
I asked again. And again. Eventually, he acquiesced.
Once he was in the water, he didn't want to leave. I told him he was like a little kid who refuses to get into the bathtub, then won’t get out.
Afterward, we went to his favorite local restaurant, claimed two stools at the bar, ordered martinis, and talked about photography.
I told him that I bought a couple of his monographs in preparation for the meetup because even though I knew his work, it was through cultural osmosis. He made work that defined athletes, defined whole sports, and even defined the era.
Looking through the books, I also noticed something I'd never fully appreciated. Alongside the grit and physicality was an unmistakable elegance, especially in his Sports Illustrated swimsuit work, with its rich color, lush textures, and unabashed sense of beauty.
He’s aware of his influence but also exhibits genuine humility and gratitude for his success and long career. (And the restaurant gave us a substantial discount, as I’m assuming that he’s a local celebrity.)
As he walked to our cars, the golden hour was just ending, the sun at the edge of the sky. I nudged his elbow and said, “The perfect end to an afternoon with Walter Iooss, with an orange sun crossing the horizon.“ He looked at me like I was a little crazy, climbed into his car, and drove away.
Top Image: Walter Iooss, Jr, photographed in Montauk, NY, July 8, 2026.
Bottom Image: A found moment before entering the pool. Walter said, “This will probably be the best shot of the day.”