Martin Parr is a funny man. Not because his candid, Technicolor photographs of plain folk often conjure a smile, even a giggle--especially if someone like funny woman Tracey Ullman is channeling every stereotypical voice in her fast and brilliant mind to describe Parr's pics of holiday makers in Britain's seaside towns, as she did during desert after grabbing my copy of his photo book "Resort." No, Martin Parr is just funny in that droll sort of way that comes from someone who's observed the beauty in human joy and fragility long enough to be comfortable in his own skin and not act like some pompous legend.
Of course, he is a legend. A social documentarian who has inspired a generation of photographers, Martin doesn't use Photoshop, instead employing a flash and "amateur" color film to achieve the highly saturated effect that conveys an ultrarealism that borders on the grotesque--much like the old vintage color photo postcards he obsessively collects--but is ultimately beautiful in their banality.
Leisure is only one of Martin's obsessions. He also focuses his eye on consumption in all its forms, specifically food, gambling, or the fixation of collecting. In this case, fashion appears to be the not so much the target as the consideration. He partnered with another equally insightful, eccentric Brit, Paul Smith, by snapping images of regular folk on the streets of lford, Essex, clothed in selections from the designer's Fall/Winter 2007 collection. The resulting 15-image series, "Paul Smith @ Ilford by Martin Parr," began in Tokyo last year, stopped in Paris and finally has made its third stop at the hot pink Paul Smith flagship on Melrose Avenue in L.A. The exhibition opened last night to a packed house that included rock heroes Kevin Haskins and Debbie Harry (unreal finally connecting with her...I don't usually get excited about meeting celebs, but her? Too cool.), and a whole host of fantastically dressed guests for a Monday night!


About 18 of us, including writer Bruce Wagner, designer Michael Schmidt, costume designers Arianne Phillips and Nancy Steiner, then headed to the garden of the Chateau Marmont, to celebrate the show with Martin over a late-night sup. With the occasional warm wind of madness blowing the palm trees, the March evening couldn't be more perfect. To Martin's right sat Rose Shoshana, the delightful owner of the RoseGallery at Bergamot Station, where Martin has long shown. His visit to L.A. also included the opening this weekend of another show at RoseGallery, along with work by Chris Killip and Graham Smith (the first time those two appear in a commercial gallery in the U.S.). She quickly introduced me to Graciela Iturbide, a beautiful Mexico City photographer (talk about legends!) she also represents. But this time, a four-decade survey of her work is at the Getty Center (through April 13. GO!).
Once Lisa Edelstein and her brilliant beau skiddadled out of there (she had a 4:30 a.m. call to the set of "House"), I scooted up the couple of vacant seats to Mr. Parr's side. Tracey and my Andy proceeded to have a good ol' time going through "Resort," occasionally piping up and making everyone laugh. But seated next to Martin, taking in his unforced quips, I was having the best time of all.