Yesterday, at the age of 76, Massachusetts-born photographer Deborah Turbeville passed away after an eight-month struggle with lung cancer. She was listening to Rachmaninoff on her iPod.
Though she was known as a “fashion photographer” she considered herself anything but. “The photographs were for fashion,” she once told The Independent. “But at the same time they had an ulterior motive, something more to do with the world in general.”
It’s this this ulterior motive–this gauzy, gentle, decaying sensation–that sets her work apart from the glossy images one expects when they open a copy of Vogue. Deborah Turbeville is who we all secretly wanted to be when we were in high school and saved up our allowance for a DSLR camera to take dreamy pictures of our friends.
Biographical details aside, there is really only so much to be said about her work. It’s best to let the photos speak for themselves.
Thanks to Photo District News.
All images by Deborah Turbeville.
