I Love Your Stories- Conversations with Artists and Creatives with Hava Gurevich


Hava Gurevich sits down with her longtime friend, photographer, author, and educator Henry Horenstein, who has taught generations of photographers and published over 40 books. In this conversation, Henry reflects on his early days studying under Minor White, Harry Callahan, and Aaron Siskind, and how the 1970s marked a turning point for photography as an art form. He shares stories from his life — from working at Polaroid and teaching at RISD to creating his newest self-published book, Miles and Miles of Texas. With humour and honesty, Henry discusses the importance of following your passion, defining success on your own terms, and doing what you love for as long as you can.


Topics Covered:


  • Henry’s upbringing in New Bedford, Massachusetts


  • Studying at Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) after being expelled from college in Chicago


  • Mentorship under Minor White, Harry Callahan, and Aaron Siskind


  • Early days of photography education and the limited career paths in the 1970s


  • Working at Polaroid in PR and communications and meeting Ansel Adams


  • Transition to teaching photography at RISD


  • The rise of photography as an accepted art form


  • Reflections on his memoir Shoot What You Love


  • Creating and self-publishing Miles and Miles of Texas


  • Why he prefers self-publishing for creative control


  • Advice to artists on publishing: “Do it yourself.”


  • His philosophy on success: “Doing what you love for as long as you can.”


  • Upcoming events and book tour details, including Rizzoli Bookstore, NYC and Texas Book Festival




Find Henry online:
 📸 Website: henryhorenstein.com
 📧 Email: Henry@Horenstein.com
 📕 Book: Miles and Miles of Texas — available on his website and (soon) on Amazon


✨ Memorable Quotes (verbatim from transcript)


  • “The best advice is shoot what you love.”


  • “I see myself as a historian with a camera.”


  • “You’ve got to be you. It’s the most obvious lesson in the world, but it’s one a lot of students have trouble with.”


  • “For me, success is just getting to do it.”


  • “You don’t make money on what you do, you make heart.”


  • “Doing what you love for as long as you can — that’s success.”


  • “If it comes, great. If it doesn’t come, great. It’s not following your own — that’s the only failure.”






Creators and Guests

HG
Host
Hava Gurevich

What is I Love Your Stories- Conversations with Artists and Creatives with Hava Gurevich?

I Love Your Stories is a soulful conversation series hosted by artist and creative guide Hava Gurevich, where art meets authenticity. Each episode invites you into an intimate dialogue with artists, makers, and visionaries who are courageously crafting lives rooted in creativity, purpose, and self-expression.

From painters and poets to healers and community builders, these are the stories behind the work—the moments of doubt, discovery, grief, joy, and transformation. Through honest, heart-centred conversations, Hava explores how creativity can be both a healing force and a path to personal truth.

If you’re an artist, a dreamer, or someone drawn to a more intuitive and intentional way of living, this podcast will remind you that your story matters—and that the act of creating is a sacred, revolutionary act.

[MUSIC]

He's taught generations of photographers,

published over 40 books, and

still says the best

advice is shoot what you love.

Welcome to this episode

of All of Your Stories.

I'm your host, Hava Gurvic, and today I'm

joined by my good friend,

the legendary photographer, author, and

educator, Henry Hornstein.

For five decades, Henry has documented

the world with wit, honesty, and

deep curiosity.

A self-described historian with a camera,

his work captures the soul of

disappearing cultures,

eccentric characters, and

the quiet poetry of everyday life.

In our conversation, Henry reflects on

his early calling to photography,

what it was like to study with giants

like Minor White, Harry Callahan, and

Aaron Siskind, and how the 70s became a

turning point for photography,

as both an art form and a career path.

He shares stories behind his newest book,

Miles and Miles of Texas,

which is out now, why he's turned to

self-publishing, and

offers his

down-to-earth definition of success,

doing what you love

for as long as you can.

Welcome to the podcast, Henry.

Now, quick word from our sponsor, and

then we'll get right back to the show.

When I started selling my art, I had

absolutely no idea how to actually turn

it into a business, a

professional business.

And then I came across art storefronts,

and that was a game changer.

I've been a customer now for years, and

they've been instrumental every step of

the way of helping me succeed.

I have a gorgeous,

powerful commerce website.

I have marketing tools and a membership

to a community that is very supportive,

and teaches me how to

succeed as an artist.

Check them out, artstorefronts.com, and

tell them how I sent you.

Henry, welcome to the podcast.

And-

Just see you, Abba.

It's been a long time

since I've seen you, but yeah.

Yeah, yeah.

I think the last time we saw each other

in person was in Manhattan,

when you came into the city for that

documentary demo that we did.

You remember that?

And I was-

I've been, you know, yeah.

And I was interviewing you and trying to

get you, trying very hard to get you to

say that you do portraiture, which you

just absolutely would not have it.

I wouldn't have it, sorry about that.

No, that was great.

It was really great.

Anyway, Henry, you've been an educator

for a big part of

your life and an author.

So why don't you just tell us a little

bit about your journey, like

who you are, what you've done?

Well, it's been a long

journey, but it's been a great one.

I got to say that.

Not every moment was great.

There are always, for all of us,

difficult times, but

overall, I'd say pretty good.

I grew up in New Bedford, Massachusetts,

which is probably

best known for Moby Dick.

It's where Herman Melville started Moby

Dick, and it's the longest

story than that, of course.

But I moved to Chicago to go to college,

got thrown out of college my senior year.

You knew that, didn't you?

I did not know that.

It's a little about me that you don't

know, but that's one thing, I guess.

But I was getting into

photography at the time.

I was studying history and kind of

getting bored with it.

And so I went to Rhode Island School of

Design, which is where I teach now.

And I got two degrees there and started

my journey, trying to be a photographer.

But in those days, it was the 70s, and

people, it's so different than it is now.

The idea that you could be a photographer

on your own, kind of a freelance,

and have one foot in photojournalism, one

foot in fine art, whatever that is,

one foot in documentary, and somehow make

a living or let it...

It's hard now, God knows.

But then it was just like, we didn't

really know what that

career could even look like,

even if it was successful, because there

were so few mentors, so few people for us

who led the way.

And for me, I was really lucky because I

met up with, well, at

least three, maybe four of

those people who had led the way.

My two teachers at RISD, Harry Callahan

and Aaron Siskin, soon

after I met Ansel Adams.

And my first teacher was Minor White.

So all of these people were people who

set up the idea that you

could be an artist as a

photographer.

And when I say artist, I don't mean it is

pejorative or positive or anything, just

that's your career.

They're a good artist

and bad artist, God knows.

But you could just do that and maybe

teach to make a

living, as all of them did.

And so I didn't know that at the time,

that that's what I was

doing, but I was really

following in those footsteps as a lot of

people in the 70s were.

And I started teaching in 1970.

I was 23 years old.

I didn't have a degree.

And how did I get a teaching job then?

Well, today would be impossible.

But in those days, there just weren't

that many people

interested in teaching or able

to teach.

And I don't know if I was

able to, but I was interested.

And suddenly there was a great deal, a

swell of interest from people to have

photographer classes.

And universities and colleges did not

have many classes, very

few did in those days.

That happened very soon after.

But 1970, and I taught for, you know,

there were little ship

places, basically, little

storefront art spaces.

And then I went to school and then I got

some adjunct jobs

teaching and I did freelance

work and I wrote a couple of textbooks

and I painted houses, you

know, and I moved people

and I, you know, went to hear music,

drank a lot of beer

and been on the horses.

I like horse racing.

And so I actually like gambling, I guess

I should say, but I

like gambling on horses.

But anyway, so that's

what I did through my 70s.

I had, you know,

adventures and, you know, fun.

And I was not making much money, but my

rent was $40 a month.

And I had a 10 year old Ford Fairlane and

my dog was my biggest expense other than

photographer. And she was, she ate a lot,

you know, but so that was that.

And then the whole time I wanted to

basically make books, that

was my, you know, my goal.

And it's, I want to

make books of my work.

And the problem was I

didn't really have any work.

It's certainly not that was book worthy.

And so I made these books, instructional

books on photography,

which were very successful.

Still even sell a little bit.

But at one time that was, that was my

income royalties from the books.

And then occasionally this and that.

And then I had to spend some money to buy

a camera or film or whatever I had to do.

And that went on for a long time.

And then about 1979, actually exactly

1979, I was offered a job at

Polaroid to work at Polaroid.

You didn't know this part of me.

You get big out for it.

This is so fascinating.

I'm sure there's a lot about you.

I don't know too.

That's right.

I worked for, I had a job.

It was my only, I'd say

normal job that I ever had.

My teaching wasn't the same.

I mean, I have taught

a lot in their jobs.

Like Amy.

What did you do for Polaroid?

Ah, well, that's a good question.

Because in those days

they had a lot of money.

They were really writing it.

And so I could almost

do what I wanted to do.

I mean, weirdly, I

worked in communications,

PR, that kind of thing.

And a lot of people know that you see

Polaroid, you see that.

Make a picture of the film comes out of

the camera and you

get a print or an image.

But they had, at that time, 5% of their

business was actually business,

industrial, professional

applications.

Like medical

applications, IDs for license plates.

But also studio

photographers use Polaroids as proof.

Before you made your

picture, you took the Polaroid.

That's what you used to say.

Let's do a Polaroid of that.

So they needed someone on staff in PR

communications who was a photographer.

And that was me.

So I wrote press releases.

I did shows.

I edited a magazine.

I assisted Elliot Erwitt, Gary Winogrand,

some of the great

photographers of the era.

Ansel Adams, that's

how I met Ansel Adams.

It's just their

assistance for a Polaroid thing.

Because they all wanted to work for

Polaroid because there's good money.

Where galleries barely existed.

There was no money there.

So the money was in

teaching and commercial work.

And Polaroid was commercial.

So I did that for two years as a job.

And freelance there for

probably the rest of the 80s.

People I knew who were doing that were

starting communication

companies and PR companies and this

and that.

I don't want to do that.

So I just let the work dribble away.

And I got a job at RISD, Rhode Island

School of Design, for

those who don't know.

Teaching photography

where I started, really.

As a photographer.

And it was part-time for a

while and then it was full-time.

And now it's full-time.

But teaching jobs are not

full-time jobs in the way.

My partner works with kids.

Preschool and early

education and all that.

She comes home and she is wasted.

And I come home and I

have a beer and I watch TV.

I don't actually do that.

But my work life is less strenuous.

I have this whole part of me where I do

individual projects.

I won't go through all of them.

I'm an Infinigones interested.

I've got a website obviously.

So you can look that over.

Or my Instagram.

I do not have dogs and cats on my

Instagram or babies.

It's a professional work.

So if you want to check that out.

And anybody can email me, by the way.

I like email, actually.

I know it's old school,

but you can attach things.

And it's one place you can look.

And it's just my name,

Henry of Harnstein.com.

So feel free to put it.

Yeah, we will have all

that info linked in summary,

whatever it's called,

the notes for the show.

Wow.

So, okay.

So I thought I had some questions to ask.

But before I do, I guess maybe I knew.

But hearing this again all at once, it

just occurred to me that you...

Your mentors were the

giants of photography.

Where photography

really came into its own.

And then in the 70s, as far as...

That's my understanding.

Before then, photography really wasn't

accepted into the art world.

It wasn't...

No.

No.

There are some places.

Yeah.

So not only did you study with and work

with giants of photography,

you also lived through that transition

where photography came into its own.

And suddenly there were photo galleries

and photography started to be

purchased and elevated as an art form.

Yeah.

And through all of that, you had a

connection with Polaroid,

which was just pivotal in all of that.

And Risty, which continues

to be pivotal in all of that.

So you're like a living legend.

No, I'm living so far.

Anyway, but I actually wrote a book,

which I think it's so like eight copies,

which a memoir...

It was about five years ago.

It was called Shoot What You Love.

I know that book.

You sent me that book.

I love it.

Sure, I sent it.

Yeah.

But it's a history of that time.

It's exactly what you just described,

because I was a history student.

By the way, I still read history and

history podcasts and the whole shebang.

And I speak to like in March, I'm

speaking to the Texas Historical Society.

I think that's what it's called,

Association, whatever.

I'm speaking to them.

In Amsterdam, I spoke to the University

of Amsterdam to an

American studies program there.

So I see myself as kind

of a wanna-be historian.

And my work is much

about history and history.

So, but obviously I really am not a

historian and don't know what I'm talking

about half the time.

But I did live through that time.

You described it really well.

It changed a lot and

it continues to change.

And I can only guess at

what the next stage might be.

But photography came out of the Bauhaus,

the school in Germany in

the 20s and into the 30s.

I think that was a school of design and

photography creeped into the Bauhaus.

I mean, a lot of people there, I think,

didn't pay much attention.

Inside is only a way to document their

architecture, their

industrial design, their real art.

But there were creative photographers who

worked in the Bauhaus.

They came to America fleeing the Nazis

and they landed in Chicago in Boston, in

Cambridge rather, at Harvard and all.

And I think, Lesanne, I'm not a historian

of this stuff, but I

do know that the biggest

Bauhaus intrusion was in Chicago where

Tallahansists can talk.

And that's where photography came in, I

believe, to academia,

to higher education,

to being accepted at least by schools.

Minor White taught photography at MIT,

but he taught it in

the architecture school.

MIT had a very distinguished, as you can

imagine, architecture school.

And he was a small part of that.

But because the Bauhaus did it, I guess,

I don't know how he ended

up there, but I can imagine.

And Callahan and Siskin, but keeping in

mind that none of those

people I mentioned had a

degree in photography of any sort.

There was no degree in

photography at the time.

No degrees.

In fact, I don't think

Callahan ever went to college.

I could be Ron Slarry, Howard Sirmly, if

I've misspoke, but he

was a factory worker.

And it was discovered in Detroit by Ansel

Adams, really, and brought

to Museum of Modern Art and

eventually to his job

in Chicago and greatness.

But today, of course,

there are PhDs in photography.

God knows what they're talking about.

You know, Henry, what in all of that from

the beginning, so you

started school like when you

were in college, you were in history, but

you started doing photography.

What got you interested in

photography in the first place?

Well, truthfully, or should I give?

I know.

Well, I was getting a little bored with

my life in the libraries,

which is what, you know,

being a historian meant.

Though I still like the subject, I didn't

like the what we would

call today lifestyle.

And I liked getting out and working and

having little adventures.

And honestly, if you were photographer,

you're a lot cooler than if you were

historian, which meant

I got a lot more dates.

You asked.

Tell you why I'm laughing.

When I started college, I was premed

because that's, you know,

I had to choose something

like real like my parents wouldn't let me

just, you know, do what I wanted.

But I took a figure drawing class and

they were like large,

you know, we drew on these

large sheets of newsprint.

And so I had to get one of those large

portfolios, those like zip black

portfolios with a handle

that was large, like

24 by 36 size portfolio.

And so I'd walk around campus with a

portfolio and I loved

carrying that portfolio around

because that told

everybody that I was an artist.

And I would I'd have to say that my

decision to apply to like to

to switch to the art school

and become an artist had a lot to do with

wanting to look like an artist.

Understandably, I mean, I, you know, I

couldn't wear a tweed sports coat.

Was required dressed story of the day.

But, you know, I mean, the thing is, this

is this is my brain thinking about it.

Now we look back and we come up with

these like silly, silly,

like true, but kind of like

ridiculous reasons that that pushed us

into the field that became our passion.

But the reality is that maybe something

else was pushing you

there, but that something else

wasn't something that you could

articulate even then to yourself.

Like your passion, like something that

you're passionate

about is going to pull you.

But if you don't have the language to

describe that it's pulling

you, you are going to look at

at the sort of the circumstances or like

the side effects of that pool.

So feeling like when when one says or

like when I say like, I

liked that when I walked

through campus, people knew that I was an

artist, or you're saying

like it was cooler to be a

photographer, you liked that image of

yourself. What that was

really saying on the deep down is

that that felt authentic. That felt like

your path. And to like an

18 year old shit who was like

concerned with outward appearances and

how people see them, you

know, that's what registered.

But the reality is that, you know, you

were that was always your

passion and it was great that it

felt good. Yeah, totally. And I think,

you know, as an 18 year

old or 20 year old, you know,

you do tend to be maybe a little more

idealistic before life

really smacks you across the face.

Gives you some reality checks. But, you

know, so you're drawn to

the things that you really

care about, you know, a lot of people end

up doing what they're

doing, because they need

and I did too, you know, because they

needed a job or they

needed this side. And, you know,

what we do is what you do, what I do,

what artists do is a job

and in its own way, you know,

this idea of like work life balance is a

real thing for

everyone. And but as an artist,

that for a long time in my life, I had

like the career, like the

day job. And then there was my

life. And then there was also the art

that I wanted to do and

trying to balance all of them.

And then when you become a full time

artist, and suddenly have to like

reconfigure and realize

that like everything I do is my job. You

know, like that

separation becomes a bit hard to

distinguish. I wanted to go back in time

a little bit. So because this

is this is so fun for me. So

you and I met 20 years ago, I was living

in Manhattan, and I was

working at Tom Gittemann's

gallery. And you were an artist, you were

friends, you're good

friends with Tom. And I heard your

name. And I thought, like, why does that

name sound so familiar?

Like, I've never met you,

but I that the name sounded so familiar

to me. And then I found out that, you

know, you've written

all these books. And I was like, Oh,

shit, back when I was in

college, and was taking photography,

we had your book as our textbook for

black and white photography.

And that I just thought that

was incredible. But that didn't end

there. When I was in grad

school, in the 90s, I was teaching

photo 101. And that was the textbook that

I had my students get.

I owe you some royalties.

You know, it's, it's just kind of

amazing, then we meet and became friends.

And, and we ended up

working together like after I left Tom's

gallery and started the art to art

business. And you became

artist that I represented. And I actually

we toured three of your

exhibitions, the animals

on Emalia, and looking at animals, I

think that's how we called it, right?

Looking at animals. And

then there was the honky tonk show. And

on committee was just those two. Now I

feel like there was a

third but anyway, but those two I know

traveled. And I know that like when the

the animal show went

to this art academy slash museum, I

forgot what the venue was in

Philadelphia. They actually

invited me to give a talk, a curator talk

about you, which was,

which was really, really fun.

And then in another chapter of my life,

where I was working on a

demo for a documentary film on

portraiture, and we invited you to come

to Manhattan to be

interviewed for that. So like our

past have crossed several times. And they

continue and here we are again. So

that's, that's really,

really fun. And so and I have I have

quite a few of your books.

And you'll be getting getting a new one

soon. Yeah. So I yes,

okay. So that's something that

I definitely want to talk to you about

you have a new book. How

many books have you published?

You know, it's funny because I a lot.

I've done different kinds of books, you

know, the textbooks,

I even did some children's books. Did you

really? Yeah, yeah. Only

two I liked, but whatever.

And I've done, you know, the monographs

of what you really I'm in it for

everyone's in it for

photographs are your own work. And so

I've gone through different gyrations

with all of this and

I have bodies of work. I could do another

five books, six books with

what I've got in the basement,

my studio basement. But because I just

would shoot subjects I was interested in.

And one subject I've

been interested in for a long time is

Texas. And for a lot of

reasons. But the main reason,

honestly, is music. I love Texas music.

So that's what really got me involved.

And I went down there

several times for different things and

photographed a bit as I usually do. And

then I thought, well,

COVID had come in 19, 19, 20, 20 or so.

And I wanted a project I

could do that's felt safe and

contained. And while I photographed a lot

in Texas, I didn't have

an idea in mind. I just

was shooting. So I started shooting with

the intent of doing a book

on Texas. And I didn't have a

controversial subject. You know, a lot of

people have opinions about

the politics and so forth and

so on. I do too. But I decided not to

make that a part of the

book. I'm really not a political

scientist, expert in history or anything.

I'm a photographer, you

know, and a big time music

lover of that kind of music. And I'd like

to drink beer. It was

barbecue, really barbecue. So,

you know, I was there. So for about three

years I went to Texas

quite often and photographed

and came out with this book. It's called

Miles and Miles of Texas. And I

self-published it for a

number of reasons. Number one, I doubted

that I could find a

traditional publisher for it.

It's not a big market kind of thing

except maybe Texas maybe. And also, I

don't mean this to sound

horrible in any way, but I am old. So

getting a book published through a

traditional means takes

a long time usually. By the time they

turn you down eight times

and you finally find someone.

But even more important to me was I

wanted the book to look

like I wanted it to look.

And the last two books I did, although

I'm proud of them with publishers, I

didn't like the way they

were. I wouldn't have done it that way, I

should say. They did it

their way and it's good, but it

wasn't my way. So I hired a designer, I

know. Anyway, we went

through quite a bit, raised some

money, but it still ended up I wrote a

big check just yesterday. And

I'm headed on the road to try

to sell some books and make that money

back. So that's my plan.

It's at the racetrack, the

gamblers say, "I hope I pray to even I

can use the money." And

that's kind of the way artists,

I think, whether they say it, but that

you don't make money

on what you do, you make

heart, I guess. So there was a practical

sign, and I'm a

practical person, even though

I'm basically throwing away my money on

these projects. But

generally, I'm a practical person

and I want to, but I know at a certain

point I can't, I won't be

able to do this anymore.

Drive around, I'd go to different places,

even the airport becomes a little

difficult these days,

especially. But I'm still doing it, and

I'm going to do it as

long as I can. So that's

a big reason for wanting to self-publish.

The problem with

self-publishing, you have to find

a place to put the books. You have to get

them out there if anyone

wants them, you have to get

them to them. And all of that, I'm not

really that good at any

of that, but I'm trying.

But what I've done is, because I do like

music, I've kind of taken the model of

trying to take the model of musicians

these days, which is they don't have

copyright protection the

way they did, Spotify, etc., which is

basically not paying them for

their work. So what happens?

You go out on the road, you tour more,

and you try to get a little

more money for your shows.

But you know, you sell vinyl or

merchandise, whatever it is.

And you just take it on the

road, and that's what I've decided to do

with this. And I'm having

a good time with it. It's

a challenge, and I don't know how it's

going to work out, but in

fact, I think I even emailed.

I emailed all my friends, and I said,

"You know any place I can

go in an arbor or whatever?"

Come to an arbor. There

are some good brickstores.

Well, I actually think

one's out to you, but...

[laughter]

But you have to take it yourself. You

have to do it

yourself. And it's a challenge,

but it's also the

ability to control what you do.

I didn't expect to have a conversation

about book

publishing, but that's actually,

you know, now it occurred to me. Like you

are as much of an

expert on publishing books,

specifically monographs of your own work,

you know, art books.

You've done many of them,

and that's the scientific number you've

given me, many of

them. And you've done them

with publishers and now self-publishing.

And I'm wondering if just

for those who are listening,

who are also artists and have been

thinking about it, like,

what advice would you give

an artist that is dreaming about

publishing a book, which, you know, I'm

one of those artists.

And it seems, I mean, it feels like

self-publishing is the

way to go. And you've just,

you know, said some of those reasons. But

also, are books to you, are

they still relevant? Like the

actual physical books? What place do they

have? Like, can you talk about all that?

Well, I mean, you're a visual artist, as

am I. I do write. I'm not a real writer.

Not a writer.

But I do write because I like to, and I

think what I do helps

explain, is helped by the

explanations and the captions and all of

that. But yeah, I mean, my

advice to all you artists

out there, you know, if you want a book,

don't do it. Well, how to

work. No, it isn't my advice.

You know, but music is the same thing. I

mean, at time, you know, you were a

musician, you were a

band, you wanted to get signed to a

label. That was what, you

know, signed to a label. That's

what everyone wants to do. There are

labels out there, and some

people still have that goal.

It's part of what they do. But the

reality is there are no

labels out there. Very few. Same

book publishing. Random House does not

publish photo books, and

they don't do it because they

don't make money. And so that's a, you

know, that's a challenge.

But it's also a positive thing,

because you then are able to put a lot of

energy and a lot of

control, take a lot of control over

your project. Johnny Cash was being

interviewed in this, what's it been,

YouTube, which I wasted

a lot of time on. So if you're on YouTube

now, got a friend, but

Johnny Cash is saying,

they were talking about song swaps, that

a lot of musicians write

together, or they share

and help each other. We don't do that

enough as artists, I don't

think, but, you know, there's

a lot of co-writing and this kind of

thing. He said one time

early on in his living room,

there was Bob Dylan, Chris

Christofferson, Willie Nelson, Wayling

Jen. There were like five or six

people became huge stars and was starting

to be stars at that time.

And they played each other

their newest songs to try to get some

feedback or convince the

other one to record it maybe or

something. And incredible, you know, all

these people are in one

room and they're all in, you

know, basically controlling their work.

You know, controlling their

work. They were the people who

did it. Wayling Jennings nearly got

kicked out of Nashville, kind

of did for a while, because he

insisted on his own producer. His early

record sought. And when he

got a chance, and he had,

you know, A-list producers and, you know,

they were good, but they

weren't him. And I think if,

you know, if there's a message I have

for, you know, students, I

try to make this a part of it

without sounding too sanctimonious. But,

you know, you can read, you

can look at work, you can talk,

and you can, you know, you can do that

all day and that's fine. But it's the

heart of it. You've got

to be you, you know, it's the most

obvious lesson in the world. But it's one

that I think a lot of

students have trouble. I had a lot of

trouble, you know, for years. I didn't

get that. But that's

what you got that's different than what

all the rest have. Now, you

might bring you great fame

and fortune or might get you, you know,

get your buy and a half-time

job in your art. But you can't

worry about that. Right. You have to live

your truth. Yeah, you can.

I mean, if it comes great,

if it doesn't come great, it's not

following your own, you know, following

your own. That's right.

I think that leads very neatly into a

question that I like to ask

all my guests is how would

you define success for yourself now and

how has it changed over

time? Yeah, it's a really good

question. It has changed. And but also it

depends a little on who you

are. I had a back and forth,

I won't mention names here, but and they

said, you know, you're

just trying to propagate your

legacy. And I looked at this person and I

said, you know, and I

knew this person pretty well.

We dated once. But anyway, and I said,

you know, you grew up in Manhattan and

all your friends and

your friends family were doctors and

lawyers and professors and

politicians and, you know, and,

you know, if they were a lawyer, they

wanted to be on the Supreme

Court. If they were a doctor,

they wanted to invent a vaccine of some

kind. Sorry, RFTA Junior

will cancel that out. But

anyway, so they all were very, very

ambitious as well. I'm saying, and that's

where you came from.

You came from that background of great

ambition, not to mention wealth. And I

grew up in New Bedford,

Massachusetts. We weren't broke. I mean,

my father was did very well for us,

actually. And I got to

go to good schools and, you know, I

didn't miss a meal and blah, blah. But

that kind of, but he was

a salesman. That kind of ambition was

not, I didn't know anybody

who had that kind of ambition

going up. I do now a lot of people. But

in, you know, growing up,

that wasn't my background. So

for me, for me, success is just getting

to do it, you know,

getting to do it and doing okay.

I mean, I do okay. But I had this Aunt

Marcia, and she was my

father's sister. She was married

for long enough to have her to get

pregnant and then was

unmarried. And her whole life, she was

single mom. And she worked in a factory.

She was a bookteacher in a

factory that made rubber things.

I don't know what exactly we get. But,

and so she didn't have any

money. She was okay. It wasn't

expensive to live back then. But, and she

certainly didn't have any

ambition except for her son to do

well. That was her only ambition. Anyway,

so when Aunt Marcia got very

sick at the end and went to

the nursing home, I went to visit her one

time. And she said to me,

she said, "Look at you, Henry.

You're a photographer." And I still don't

know whether she meant

I'm doing really well or I'm

a failure. Because I didn't know what

that meant to her, you

know, because we didn't know.

It's kind of, you know, those kinds of

ambitions growing up. But

once I started to see, you know,

people who did, even the graduate school,

I didn't really have a lot

of ambition, I wouldn't say a

little bit. I mean, ambition for my work,

but it shows for success

and so forth and so on.

Not many people had that in those days.

But I kind of, you know, kind of got

interested in it as I

went along and tried to get more shows

and tried to get, you know, more

connected. But I think now

I'm back to successes that I, I mean, I

look at friends of mine who

have real jobs and, you know,

and I look and I don't see any of them

who's, and some of them

done very well. I look at them,

I don't envy them for a minute, you know,

having getting to do what you

do, getting to do what I do.

That's amazing. Chuck Close gave the

graduating speech, commencement speech,

Ed Rizzi many years ago. And I remember

this so well, you know, he

didn't speak to the graduating

class, to the students. He spoke to the

parents and he said, I

know a lot of you are worried

children becoming an artist and how they

make a living and all of that. He said,

you've given your children the chance to

have the greatest life

imaginable, their own life.

And he's very, very happy for that. I

think there's this full circle here. And

we talk about us as,

you know, 18 year old kids who gravitate

towards a form of art. And

because, like, it's a passion

and you feel cool, you look cool doing it

and all that. And then, you

know, getting to this point

now and saying that your definition of

success is to just be able to

keep doing that thing that you

gravitated towards all those years ago.

And I can't imagine a

better way to say that's a life

or well lived. That's absolutely. And,

you know, a lot of I said it jokingly

before, but I mean it,

a lot of people in our field who are able

to do their own work,

they have they have something

behind them. A partner with a lot of

money, a family with a lot

of money. So I don't know.

Sadly, that's but you have something. I

mean, being able to live the life that

you have always wanted

and happy with what you're doing, like be

excited about waking up

every day and getting to do what

you want to do. That's that's that's more

than all the Teslas in the

world. So I could keep talking

to you forever. You know, I was I was

hoping to touch on a whole

bunch of other subjects with so

maybe we'll do a second part at some

point. But one final time, you have a

book that's coming out.

The book is called Miles and Miles of

Texas. Right. It's self

published. How can people find it?

Where can they find it

and how can they find it?

It's out. It's out by the time this comes

out, I'm sure. And I

it's on my website, which

we'll link to that.com. And we're trying

to get onto Amazon. They're

giving us a lot of trouble.

I don't know why, but eventually it'll be

on Amazon. And I'm touring

for the book. I really am.

I'll be in a lot of places and you can

check my website's got the tour updated,

try to update it frequently, but I'll be

in Texas a lot. I'll be at the Texas Book

Festival in November, which is actually

quite a large festival.

People come from all over.

And so, you know, in various bookstores,

but I'm not doing a lot of

that because it's too much work.

But also, if you have New York people

listening, I'm sure you

do. There's going to be a

book signing November 4th that resolutely

bookstore, which is, you know,

the bookstore. Rizzoli.

Rizzoli. Rizzoli. Yeah.

Which is, I don't even know where they

are. Fifth Avenue, something. But,

and along the way, they have these in

conversation things you probably know

about, but they'll put

somebody else with you. Can't have a

talk. And so we're going to have a woman

named Laura Cantrell,

who's a country singer from New York and

a DJ and all of that. So

that's going to be fun.

Kind of a fun event, I think. And come to

Rizzoli bookstore. Follow

me. Do all the, you know,

I meant it if you have anything to say or

want to email is best for me.

So I'm taking it on the road. That's the

other way. If you want me to sign it,

get it directly from me. If you don't

care, then, you know, go

to Amazon or, you know,

bookstore or whatever. Thank you for that

plug. Yes. Thank you so, so

much, Henry. This has been

so fun. Oh, and yeah, definitely. Let's,

let's schedule to have

a chat. Off, off life.