Larry Clark
[Photographer and filmmaker, b. 1943, Tulsa, Oklahoma, lives in New York.]

 ... I wanted to be a storyteller, tell a story. Which I hate to even admit to now, because I hate photojournalism so badly. 
 [Eugene Smith] was always writing these diatribes about truth, and how he wanted to tell the truth, the truth, the truth. It was a real rebel position. It was kind of like a teenager’s position: why can’t things be like they should be? Why can’t I do what I want? I latched on to that philosophy. One day I snapped, hey, you know, I know a story that no one’s ever told, never seen, and I’ve lived it. It’s my own story and my friends’ story. 
 since I became a photographer I always wanted to turn back the year. always wished I had a camera when I was a boy. fucking in the backseat, gangbanging with the pretty girls all the other girls in the neighborhood hated. 
 I always wished I could be a painter or a filmmaker, anything but a fucking photographer. I certainly didn’t want to be in a photography gallery. 
 I just happened to have my camera and be photographing my friends. It was totally innocent; there was no purpose to the photographs. There was a purity to them that wasn’t planned; it was realism. 
 At the end of the day, what I show is real life. I tell the truth. And the truth can be shocking. 
 The work all comes from a psychological need. See the images that I make… It’s really a psychological need. I’m just jerked around by it. I’m pulled by it. 
 I didn’t do many pictures [in the summer of 1968] because there was so much dope around. We had more than you could shoot. We lived in an apartment with some girls who were prostitutes and they had some tricks who were doctors so we had everything from liquid amphetamine to morphine pharmaceutical. 
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