The man who loved women

Photography collector and editor Peter Fetterman talks about the naked woman as landscape -- and why women look hotter reading Proust.

By David Bowman

Dec 24, 2003 | British-born art dealer Peter Fetterman may love women almost as much as the late, great film director Francois Truffaut. The latest testament to Fetterman's particular rapture over the feminine is an exquisite new collection of photographs he edited called "Woman: A Celebration."

The celebrator is a trim, elegant, immaculately tailored man in his mid-50s. We meet inside an armory on the Upper West Side of New York where an art sale is being held. We sit, sipping Merlot and comparing the sights of beautiful women walking to and fro with the photographs of beautiful women in his book. I turn to a page at random -- Audrey Hepburn leaning out the window of a black limousine is on a page opposite a woman curled up in darkness, revealing only her naked hips, shoulders and braided dark hair.

Do you own all these photographs?

I do. It's a sickness. This book is the result of my disease.

And you love women?

And I love women. They are so much more interesting than men. So much more complex.

Present company excluded.

Present company excluded. There are a few sensitive, decent men in the world. But you don't really want to hang out with [most men] too much. Too much aggression. How did you come across the book? You were strolling by your local Barnes & Noble?

I saw a woman paging through it at St. Mark's Bookshop in the East Village. She was lovely, but I noticed that the book was even more beautiful. [A blonde walks by.] She reminds me of one of the famous photographs in the book ["American Girl in Italy," 1951, by Ruth Orkin]. A gorgeous woman walks down a street surrounded by slouching men ogling and giving wolf-whistles. Was that photo real or staged?

Ruth met this young American woman in Rome -- and Rome being Rome, and Italian men being Italian men, Ruth had a sense that an unchaperoned woman walking around the piazza might make some interesting photo opportunities. The American woman walked through once and not much happened. Ruth asked her to do it again and she got that response.

You're not a woman so I can ask you this: How old are you?

I'm 55 years old.

So you don't really know what Rome was like in the 1950s?

I did go to Rome as a student and fell in love with her. In those days, you could fly to Rome for $20. Every weekend I could, I would get away.

How did you begin collecting photographs?

I started collecting on a minor level 25 years ago and I became obsessed. It took me over. I changed my life to do it. I felt good surrounded by all these images of women. I thought, "Why can't I feel good like this all the time?" I was in this very stressful other life -- I was producing films. I produced a movie with Mia Farrow called "The Haunting of Julia." I produced a movie with Pavarotti called "Yes, Giorgio" for MGM. It became the "Heaven's Gate" of musicals. It was an enormous hit on the airlines, but not on earth. The problem with the film industry is that it's very hard to indulge in your own tastes because it takes millions of dollars to fulfill a vision. The great thing about photographs is that when I started out you could buy any photograph you wanted because there wasn't a photography market like there is now.

I think most people are a little confused about what selling photographs means. You don't have the negatives, do you?

No. My gallery represents photographers who control their own negatives, or we sometimes acquire individual prints from various periods.

Is Ruth Orkin still alive?

No. She passed away in the 1980s. Her daughter runs her estate and from time to time they make some prints.

No two prints are ever alike.

Right. If you've ever been into a darkroom you know the nuances to make the piece brighter or darker.

I met my wife in a darkroom.

Did you trip over her and there she was?

We took a darkroom class together and occasionally rented the teacher's darkroom on the same evening.

So your date night would be printing --

No, no. We barely knew each other. One night I had a sense she was printing nudes. So I waited her out. After she left, I went through the trash and took her discards. They were self-portrait nudes.

I like that story. See, photography is good for men. It's good for their relationships.

When did you become a "womanphile"?

I didn't realize I was doing it until I looked around my house and realized that all I had hanging around the house were scenes of women. I never consciously set out to collect images of women, but I suppose -- subconsciously -- that was my way to understand them.

You operate out of California?

Yes. I have a gallery in Santa Monica.

Before our interview I tried to consider what your prejudices were about woman. For one thing, there are no pictures of women weightlifters.

There are a couple of gigantic women. I suppose I have what they call a "romantic" view of the world. I have this lyrical, impressionistic-painting view of women.

Are you married?

I am married. I live with women. I have two daughters, 4 and 9. I just acquired for my daughters a little female dog. And I have a mother-in-law who comes along most days. I'm surrounded by women, and maybe this book is a way to -- [pauses].

How long have you been married?

Ten years, which, in Los Angeles, let me tell you, is one of the longest marriages. People change their partners like they change their cars. And I have my gallery -- that's my little oasis in the desert of Los Angeles.

So let's keep paging. This is one image that struck me -- a topless African-American is leaning back holding a lit cigarette, in a holder.

Max Thorek [the photographer] was actually a doctor in the 1930s. He was an amateur photographer, but he was great. I just saw this image, and I just thought it was luscious and Deco. And unusual. I don't know the story, but he obviously just worked with this model, and he communicated with her amazingly well, and together they created this sexy image.

How does your wife feel about your collection of images?

She loves it. She loves it. I think they're all tasteful.

Has anyone accused you of being sexist?

Not yet. I thought that was going to happen, but so far I haven't had people e-mail me, "How dare you!" I think what's good about the book is that it's not just full of pretty women. It switches moods suddenly for no reason. It goes from elegant images to heart-wrenching ones. I think why people like it is that it isn't predictable in the sense of "Oh, it's just another fashion book full of pictures of Audrey Hepburn." It isn't. It seems to touch men and women, actually. It's got an international cast.

This is one of my favorites [A photograph of a poised, young, dark-skinned girl.] Charles Scowen, the photographer, operated in India. Back in those days [1870] people in Europe would go on these exotic journeys and they wanted to take back souvenirs of what they had seen, be it the Far East or Asia. And he operated a successful business that captured local Indian scenes. There is something about this portrait -- when I first saw it 25 years ago, I thought, "This is an amazing photo." It's my favorite in the whole book. There is something haunting about her. The physical print is very beautiful. She just has this wistful air which is very -- I want to know her story. I love portraits. That's what photography is best at. Portraits tell stories. I'm curious. I love stories. And each of the women in this book has a story.

Next Page: Let's talk about nudes

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