When Richard Avedon passed away in 2004, he was in Texas preparing to shoot a portrait.
To some, this may seem like a lonely way to die, to be on assignment, not really surrounded by family, but for Avedon, this was probably the perfect end. In some ways, while I don’t relish the thought of dying in any way other than by old age, the beauty of the circumstances of his death is striking to me. The reason I say this is because he was able to do what he loved until the very end.
For Avedon, he never gave up his career, never had to sit around and reminisce about the days when he was a photographer. He found something he was passionate about, something he was talented at, and he was able to stick with it literally until the day he died. Did he have struggles and insecurities? Did he receive bad reviews? Was his work misunderstood? Did he face critics who thought photography is not art? Yes to all of it. But still, he kept on. That is beautiful, to me.