The energy and grit of a Bruce Gilden photograph is unmistakable. Subjects are pressed up to the frame, confronting the viewer with every time-worn facet of the face.
The Magnum lensman’s flash-lit shots have made him one of the most revered street photographers of our time, with work exhibited in the Museum of Modern Art in New York and London’s Victoria and Albert Museum. However, he’s also one of the most divisive.
Fresh from shooting the new Cutler and Gross X The Great Frog campaign starring Debbie Harry, the self-professed “bulldog with a passion” talks controversial tactics, trusting your instincts, and ignoring critics.
Bruce Gilden at DMB.
Bruce Gilden’s reputation – both revered and reviled – stems from his street photography. Predominantly self-taught, he first picked up a camera in 1969 and was drawn to the genre because “I didn’t have to talk to anyone”. The Brooklyn-born lensman would weave through the New York City streets and capture the glare of an elderly woman, the stride of a suave gentleman, and the pace of a stray dog in stark black and white.
“I used to be able to dart in and out,” says Gilden, now aged 77. “I was able to get in when someone was walking at a pretty fast pace, take the picture, and then move out of their way,” he shares, before quickly stating that “I don’t run, I don’t run away, you know what I mean?” This clarification is pre-emptive. Gilden has garnered criticism for his methods, mostly recently in an article in the Financial Times which likened him to a hunter that “sneaks up on his victims in plain sight.” The photographer addresses this with an air of weary frustration: “Some people give me a lot of grief over jumping in people’s faces – I don’t see what’s wrong with it ok, I’m not killing anybody?”
This brashness is part and parcel of Gilden. “I’m real,” he shrugs, “I am who I am”. He talks frankly about his childhood growing up with a mother who was an alcoholic sex worker and a “gangster-type” father with “the slick hair, the pinky rings, fat cigars, a Cadillac – the whole nine yards.” Gilden shares that his father wasn’t well educated and there were no books in the house, before expanding and saying, “Well, my childhood was a disaster, ok? I could’ve taken all those negatives and wound up in jail or dead, but I took ‘em all and became a success. Look, I am my father and mother’s son, you can’t erase your past, so you just have to deal with it. The hurt and anger will never go away, but that’s what drives my work.”
“The hurt and anger will never go away, but that’s what drives my work.”
This rawness is reflected in his portfolio. Camera in hand, he’s ventured to darkened corners across the globe; to Haiti to capture the harrowing aftermath of a 7.0 magnitude earthquake; to the underbelly of Japan and the tattooed bodies of the Yakuza mafia; and documented drug-addict prostitutes in middle America. In true Gilden style, the viewer is visually assaulted with every gnarled wrinkle, chapped lip, and crocked tooth. As the photographer says, “My pictures may not be pretty but they’re beautiful”. This statement bears particular relevance to his Face series, which is populated with unflinching mug shot-like portraits of people seemingly battered and bruised by life. The photographs were taken with permission, however, this didn’t prevent critics from accusing Gilden of humiliating his subjects. But upon speaking to him – a man born on the outskirts and drawn to the margins – the motive seems more nuanced.
Bruce Gilden at DMB.
“These people are invisible in society,” shares Gilden, “but I can relate to them.” With his camera, he propels them into the spotlight so they can’t be ignored. In Gilden’s words, his experiences have enabled him “to see what’s real where a lot of other people can’t. They’ll criticise me, but they shouldn’t say anything because they really don’t know that much about life.” Gilden, on the other hand, shares that he’s “experienced a lot”, once almost dying of a drug overdose. “So, I’ve been there, done that. I’m not saying I’m proud of myself, but it goes into making me who I am.”
“Some people give me a lot of griefover jumping in people’s faces – I don’t see what’s wrong with it ok, I’m not killing anybody?”
In his thick Brooklyn accent, the photographer emphasises that he’s comfortable around “heavy characters” – think drug lords, gang members, and One Percenters – and knows how to protect himself. “You have to be streetwise,” shares Gilden. “I remember years ago I was at a parade on Labor Day in Brooklyn and I said to my friend, ‘Let’s get out of here, something bad’s going to happen.’ The next day I picked up The New York Times – which I never read, I want to make that clear, we don’t have the same politics – and it said that seven people had been shot and two dead on that corner. I have a good nose for that stuff.”
How does he gain the trust of these “characters” enough to be able to photograph them? “By being myself, I’m real,” he shrugs. “And he’s a talker!” his wife Sophie adds from the next-door room. Semantics are also important: “You have to be conscious of how they talk and what could help you gain entry. I’m candid and I always use positive language. I’ll say, ‘You don’t mind if I take pictures here, do you? I’m sure you don’t mind.’ Sometimes I’ll just go ahead and photograph, but if I’m with the bikers then I’ll always ask for permission first.”
The New York City bikers are a topic Gilden talks about with great fondness. The photographer grew close to them over the course of a long-term project that began in 2020 – titled The Circuit – in which he explored the life of this often-feared community. “They’ve become family to me and they love Soph [his wife]. She’ll dance with them until 3am and the funny thing is I’d be more concerned if she was in a regular bar in Manhattan because everyone looks out for her.”
Bruce Gilden at DMB.
“I have a lot of detractors –they’re the ones that give me the strength to keep working.”
In an interesting departure from the gritty, precarious streets Bruce Gilden frequently haunts, he also turns his lens to fashion photography. Does his approach change when working with the likes of Balenciaga, Dolce&Gabbana, and Nike? "No, but it’s a different ball game, I eat well on those shoot days,” he laughs. “If I’m taking a fashion picture, I’ll make it with drama, emotion, and movement. It has to have strong emotional content.”
These words ring true in the new Cutler and Gross X The Great Frog campaign, where Bruce Gilden photographed Debbie Harry at the Hotel Chelsea in New York. “Obviously I’d been to the Chelsea in my life, but I hadn’t been there in years,” shares Gilden, nonchalantly referring to the legendary venue that saw Andy Warhol, Bob Dylan, and Patti Smith slip through the door. Had the two septuagenarians crossed paths before? “No, and I don’t hero worship,” says Gilden with finality. On to the next topic then.
As our time together nears an end, I ask the photographer what’s next on the cards. Gilden shares that he’s turning 78 in a few weeks and off to Greece tomorrow to work on a new project. “At my age, it’s not easy to keep going,” Gilden acknowledges. So, what drives him to continue? “I have many people that call me iconic, which is nice, and I also have a lot of detractors – they’re the ones that give me the strength to keep working.”
Whether you love his photographs or hate them, I get the sense that Bruce Gilden is unfazed either way.
Interview by Imogen Massey
Debbie Harry by Bruce Gilden, photographed at the Hotel Chelsea.
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Bruce Gilden: On His Terms
The energy and grit of a Bruce Gilden photograph is unmistakable. Subjects are pressed up to the frame, confronting the viewer with every time-worn facet of the face.
The Magnum lensman’s flash-lit shots have made him one of the most revered street photographers of our time, with work exhibited in the Museum of Modern Art in New York and London’s Victoria and Albert Museum. However, he’s also one of the most divisive.
Fresh from shooting the new Cutler and Gross X The Great Frog campaign starring Debbie Harry, the self-professed “bulldog with a passion” talks controversial tactics, trusting your instincts, and ignoring critics.
Bruce Gilden at DMB.
Bruce Gilden’s reputation – both revered and reviled – stems from his street photography. Predominantly self-taught, he first picked up a camera in 1969 and was drawn to the genre because “I didn’t have to talk to anyone”. The Brooklyn-born lensman would weave through the New York City streets and capture the glare of an elderly woman, the stride of a suave gentleman, and the pace of a stray dog in stark black and white.
“I used to be able to dart in and out,” says Gilden, now aged 77. “I was able to get in when someone was walking at a pretty fast pace, take the picture, and then move out of their way,” he shares, before quickly stating that “I don’t run, I don’t run away, you know what I mean?” This clarification is pre-emptive. Gilden has garnered criticism for his methods, mostly recently in an article in the Financial Times which likened him to a hunter that “sneaks up on his victims in plain sight.” The photographer addresses this with an air of weary frustration: “Some people give me a lot of grief over jumping in people’s faces – I don’t see what’s wrong with it ok, I’m not killing anybody?”
This brashness is part and parcel of Gilden. “I’m real,” he shrugs, “I am who I am”. He talks frankly about his childhood growing up with a mother who was an alcoholic sex worker and a “gangster-type” father with “the slick hair, the pinky rings, fat cigars, a Cadillac – the whole nine yards.” Gilden shares that his father wasn’t well educated and there were no books in the house, before expanding and saying, “Well, my childhood was a disaster, ok? I could’ve taken all those negatives and wound up in jail or dead, but I took ‘em all and became a success. Look, I am my father and mother’s son, you can’t erase your past, so you just have to deal with it. The hurt and anger will never go away, but that’s what drives my work.”
This rawness is reflected in his portfolio. Camera in hand, he’s ventured to darkened corners across the globe; to Haiti to capture the harrowing aftermath of a 7.0 magnitude earthquake; to the underbelly of Japan and the tattooed bodies of the Yakuza mafia; and documented drug-addict prostitutes in middle America. In true Gilden style, the viewer is visually assaulted with every gnarled wrinkle, chapped lip, and crocked tooth. As the photographer says, “My pictures may not be pretty but they’re beautiful”. This statement bears particular relevance to his Face series, which is populated with unflinching mug shot-like portraits of people seemingly battered and bruised by life. The photographs were taken with permission, however, this didn’t prevent critics from accusing Gilden of humiliating his subjects. But upon speaking to him – a man born on the outskirts and drawn to the margins – the motive seems more nuanced.
Bruce Gilden at DMB.
“These people are invisible in society,” shares Gilden, “but I can relate to them.” With his camera, he propels them into the spotlight so they can’t be ignored. In Gilden’s words, his experiences have enabled him “to see what’s real where a lot of other people can’t. They’ll criticise me, but they shouldn’t say anything because they really don’t know that much about life.” Gilden, on the other hand, shares that he’s “experienced a lot”, once almost dying of a drug overdose. “So, I’ve been there, done that. I’m not saying I’m proud of myself, but it goes into making me who I am.”
In his thick Brooklyn accent, the photographer emphasises that he’s comfortable around “heavy characters” – think drug lords, gang members, and One Percenters – and knows how to protect himself. “You have to be streetwise,” shares Gilden. “I remember years ago I was at a parade on Labor Day in Brooklyn and I said to my friend, ‘Let’s get out of here, something bad’s going to happen.’ The next day I picked up The New York Times – which I never read, I want to make that clear, we don’t have the same politics – and it said that seven people had been shot and two dead on that corner. I have a good nose for that stuff.”
How does he gain the trust of these “characters” enough to be able to photograph them? “By being myself, I’m real,” he shrugs. “And he’s a talker!” his wife Sophie adds from the next-door room. Semantics are also important: “You have to be conscious of how they talk and what could help you gain entry. I’m candid and I always use positive language. I’ll say, ‘You don’t mind if I take pictures here, do you? I’m sure you don’t mind.’ Sometimes I’ll just go ahead and photograph, but if I’m with the bikers then I’ll always ask for permission first.”
The New York City bikers are a topic Gilden talks about with great fondness. The photographer grew close to them over the course of a long-term project that began in 2020 – titled The Circuit – in which he explored the life of this often-feared community. “They’ve become family to me and they love Soph [his wife]. She’ll dance with them until 3am and the funny thing is I’d be more concerned if she was in a regular bar in Manhattan because everyone looks out for her.”
Bruce Gilden at DMB.
In an interesting departure from the gritty, precarious streets Bruce Gilden frequently haunts, he also turns his lens to fashion photography. Does his approach change when working with the likes of Balenciaga, Dolce&Gabbana, and Nike? "No, but it’s a different ball game, I eat well on those shoot days,” he laughs. “If I’m taking a fashion picture, I’ll make it with drama, emotion, and movement. It has to have strong emotional content.”
These words ring true in the new Cutler and Gross X The Great Frog campaign, where Bruce Gilden photographed Debbie Harry at the Hotel Chelsea in New York. “Obviously I’d been to the Chelsea in my life, but I hadn’t been there in years,” shares Gilden, nonchalantly referring to the legendary venue that saw Andy Warhol, Bob Dylan, and Patti Smith slip through the door. Had the two septuagenarians crossed paths before? “No, and I don’t hero worship,” says Gilden with finality. On to the next topic then.
As our time together nears an end, I ask the photographer what’s next on the cards. Gilden shares that he’s turning 78 in a few weeks and off to Greece tomorrow to work on a new project. “At my age, it’s not easy to keep going,” Gilden acknowledges. So, what drives him to continue? “I have many people that call me iconic, which is nice, and I also have a lot of detractors – they’re the ones that give me the strength to keep working.”
Whether you love his photographs or hate them, I get the sense that Bruce Gilden is unfazed either way.
Interview by Imogen Massey
Debbie Harry by Bruce Gilden, photographed at the Hotel Chelsea.
Shop The Collection