Both form and space could be conveyed conveniently with my small Leica. Its size allowed access into the models where our view could not reach. Special theatrical effects such as images of real scenery projected for background and smoke and mirrors (literally) were used to enhance the impression of space. In presentations to clients, large-scale projection of slides conveyed the "being in it" experience. Slide shows eventually replaced the models themselves in our presentations. This was all before computer-generated imagery.
I wore two hats with some reservation. After all, I came to Saarinen to hone my Beaux-Arts training in Grand Design. A chance came with an invitation, from a dear Hungarian friend in Sydney, to jointly enter the Opera House competition. I accepted it, but since Saarinen was on the jury, I had to quit my job. While we worked on our design by correspondence (pre-email), and an eventual flight to Australia to draw up the project, photography became my livelihood. As it turned out, I became an instant success in the field of architectural photography.
Our Sydney Opera design being a notable near miss, I rejoined Saarinen, earning a heightened appreciation and pay but still wearing two hats. Eventually, temptation from a series of major competitions including the Auschwitz Memorial and Toronto City Hall (with failure to win any), and my proven survival through my newly acquired craft, made me opt for a happily nomadic existence as a full-time photographer.
It was the Saarinen role in the remarkable patronage of architecture in Columbus, Indiana, that made me part of the town history as their favored reporter.
The three magazines — Architectural Forum, Record, and PA — competed for my services. In one month in the early 1960s I made the grand slam: cover stories in all three. Within five years in practice I scored the top award, the AIA medal for photography.
Forty years of worldwide adventure on the road, and in the process, launching new talents, including, proudly, my son Christian — all that made it well worthwhile for me.
Now at age 75, I stop for a moment to examine my body of work for quality and character. Will it leave a lasting value for the world on its own merits, beyond the honest service I was to offer to the cause of architecture?