Check this out. I was about the Campbell sisters’ age when I first fell in love with London. It was late October and I had been living in Paris and photographing with my only camera and lens. I stayed with my sister Barbara DeWitt who was working with David Bowie and she let me her flat because she was once again on tour. London was covered with snow and cold as hell, but I did’t feel it – just like the ruffians in these photographs never felt the rain. In fact they wanted it, they wanted to get soaked and take their clothes off and lie by an inviting fire on a rug with friends. The London I discovered as a young photographer was the spirit in the pubs and the music (vinyl) in my sister’s apartment with big windows overlooking a bleak London. But the bleakness welcomed me somehow and was very beautiful. I kissed a lot of people – in fact a few I didn’t ever know, maybe because I’d had too many at the neighbourhood put – but walking back home with our footprints wet in the snow, I had all of a sudden some new pals on my arm, some whisky – “Irish or Scottish”, I suppose in my stomach to keep me warm and then London belonged to me! Because with all the laughter and all the mischief there is that innocence at the bottom of its soul. I woke up the next morning hung over and called my parents to tell them I loved them. I guess I was still their baby. Then I rolled over and hugged one, tow, three, maybe four people – old friends and new – and we all laughed and just took bleary-eyes portraits of each other. But that was a long time ago.
Bruce Weber, London 2012