If you saw Bill Cunningham at an event, you knew you were somewhere. You also knew that there would be interesting—or at least interesting-looking—people there. Cunningham, the beloved New York Times fashion photographer, died on Saturday. He was 87. Known by many for his chronicles of the city’s street style, he was well-known among event planners for his coverage of benefits and other events from Manhattan to the Hamptons that drew fashionable crowds in the "Evening Hours" feature.
This month, I saw Cunningham at work at two benefits: the Museum of Modern Art’s Party in the Garden and the New York Public Library’s Spring Dinner. I watched him watch the guests, evaluating them as potential subjects and then swooping for the shot. Then there were the guests who approached him, requesting that the legendary photographer take their picture. He indulged them, although I doubted that these images would ever make the paper. In the moment, it did not matter to those guests, who felt proud to pose before his lens. By the way, these were not just society ladies. Men and women alike, of all ages, sought Cunningham’s attention.
Cunningham’s work could have a subtle political bent. A 2013 essay in New York magazine noted his quiet advocacy for the gay community. “He was his own boss in the hierarchical newsroom, and he made sure that AIDS benefits received as much coverage as galas at the Metropolitan Opera and Carnegie Hall,” wrote his former colleague Dan Shaw.
Cunningham’s personal celebrity skyrocketed with the 2010 release of the documentary film Bill Cunningham New York, which gave insight into his creative process as well as captured his personal charm and quirks. Watching it, viewers couldn’t help but feel affection for the man who wore a trademark blue jacket and rode his bicycle to assignments. But it also imparted a deep respect for his eye and his work.
Part of the film depicted his forced move from the apartments above Carnegie Hall as the concert venue renovated the area into classrooms and event space. Somehow it made sense that one New York institution inhabited another. Even before his death, I often thought of him when attending events in the Studio Towers. Preserved details such as fireplaces in the private dining room recall its residential origins, although the elegant rooms bear no resemblance to Cunningham’s studio, which was packed with filing cabinets containing his photographic archives.
Unlike some artists, he was appreciated by the public and the industries he intersected—among them, the press, fashion, and events. In 2009, he was named a “Living Landmark” by the New York Landmarks Conservancy. While no longer living, he is still a landmark individual and will be missed.
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