Mark Klett
[Photographer, b. 1952, Albany, New York, lives in Tempe, Arizona.]

 Photos always seem to exist as sort of stuffy, unnecessary antiques that we put in a drawer—unless we take them out, put them in current dialogue, and give them relevance. 

Beyoncé Knowles
[Singer and celebrity, b. 1981, Houston, Texas, lives in New York.]

 When I’m on the red carpet, I’m prepared for [the attention.] But the worst thing is on planes, when you’re asleep and you’re woken up by a camera flashing. That’s a little bit much. But what do you do? It’s a part of [being famous]. Unfortunately. 

Idris Khan
[Artist, b. 1978, Birmingham, England, lives in London.]

 A lot of people in the art world hate to use the word “Photoshop” like it’s cheating or easy or something. I say bollocks to that. For me, it’s my tool, my paintbrush if you like, and lets me create my own visual language. 

Chris Killip
[Photographer, b. 1946, Douglas, Isle of Man, United Kingdom, lives in Boston.]

 I don’t like smiley pictures. A smile is a defense mechanism. It says, “You can’t have the real me but here’s my smile.” You get closer to the real person when they stop smiling. 

Germaine Krull
[Photographer, b. 1897, Wilda, East Prussia, Germany (now Poland), d. 1985, Wetzlar, Germany.]

 The camera need not invent, manipulate or fool. It does not paint, nor does it imagine. The photographer is a witness, the witness of his time. 

Annette Kuhn
[Writer and theorist, lives in Lancaster, England.]

 A photograph can certainly throw you off the scent. You will get nowhere, for instance, by taking a magnifying glass to it to get a closer look: you will see only patches of light and dark, an unreadable mesh of grains. The image yields nothing to that sort of scrutiny; it simply disappears. In order to show what it is evidence of, a photograph must always point you away from itself. 

Antonin Kratochvil
[Photographer, b. 1947, Lovisice, Czechoslovakia, lives in New York.]

 I was repelled by the sleazy reality of the totalitarian countries: politicians were shameless. There were corruption, pollution, shoddy goods, long lines, and suicide everywhere, but the leaders kept boasting about their great achievements and bright tomorrows. I saw all this and tried to show it in my pictures as simply and straightforwardly as I could. All I wanted to do was record how all these poor people adapted to lies and suffering, how they got used to it, how, in fact they were bound to miss it when it was over. 

Jack Kerouac (Jean-Louis Lebris de Kerouac)
[Writer, b. 1922, Lowell, Massachusetts, d. 1969, St. Petersburg, Florida.]

 How I wished I’d have had a camera of my own, a mad mental camera that could register pictorial shots, of the photographic artist himself prowling about for his ultimate shot—an epic in itself. (On the road with Robert Frank, 1958)