Deborah Turbeville
[Photographer, b. 1932, Medford, Massachusetts, d. 2013, New York.]

 I have an instinct for finding the odd location, the dismissed face, the eerie atmosphere, the oppressed mood. 
 A lot of times there were big mistakes, but I would show the art director and he’d say, “Yeah, let’s go with it.” There would be a strange cropping or one girl in focus and three out or a blur. But I would end up liking the mistakes and incorporating them into my work. And I became known for it. 
 I destroy the image after I’ve made it, obliterate it a little so you never have it completely there. 
 In these times aesthetic taste is dismissed as irrelevant. Well, I am perverse, for that reason I am more drawn to it than ever. I have been described as having style, of being a mannered photographer… it’s some people’s quarrel with my work and others’ fascination. 
 I don’t consider [my] photographs fashion photographs. The photographs were for fashion, but at the same time they had an ulterior motive, something more to do with the world in general.