



There's no glamour in the tabloids. We have the same dozen stars in the same dozen positions, particularly one's that don't look very good in pictures. Just today The New York Post, everyone's favorite conservative tab-news rag, featured a picture of Britney Spears, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan with a caption "Bimbo Summit". None of the women look particularly glamorous, nor do they invoke envy, sympathy or wonder.
If photographer Ron Galella had his way, we'd never have to look at another grotesque display of celebrity debauchery again. Sure, his pictures of the disco era captured enough debauchery to kill the Pope, but there's more to his work than deliciously excessive partying.
Galella's entire professional career has revolved around documenting the innate beauty and captivating enchantment of the world's most famous people. Described as the "godfather of American paparrazi culture", Galella actually got his photographic start during the Korean War. Returning to America, he found himself drawn to New York's nightlife, a scene he chronicled tirelessly in pursuit of the perfect shot. And there are many.

Consider this picture: Bianca Jagger (by far the coolest of all Mick's girls) and the late actor Sterling St. Jacques. When was the last time you saw two celebrities living in up at such a natural, carefree way? The days of intimate portrayal have ceded to either embarassing snapshots or publicist-approved, editor-contrived "exclusives". Not a pretty picture, to say the least.
For those of you feeling a little nostalgic, head on over to the powerHouse gallery from now until January 7th for their celebration of Galella's most recent collection: The Disco Years (which, not incidentally, was published by the gallery's publishing house sibling, powerHouse books.)
Featuring Galella's shots of people like Grace Jones, a truly frightening picture of Betty Davis, a young Elton John and Ali McGraw's controversial nipple (Steve Rubell banned Galella from Studio 54 for publishing that particular tit-pic) the show gives viewers a look at a by-gone era: when celebrities evoked awe and oozed splendor. No Bimbo Summit's here: just glamorous people, fabulous parties and a whole lotta fun.
Galella may not be snapping his ways through the bars and clubs these days (he lives forty minutes outside of New York City), but that doesn't mean he's not working hard. While he's got a number of projects on his plate, we're sure you'll like to hear that he's working on a collection of gay icons. Now that's something to dance about.
And, to think, all this time I'd thought that Galella was dead. You PRAISE the "godfather of American paparrazi culture" while condemning his countless godchildren? Ladies & Germs, I had the displeasure of seeing Galella in full Ron at an American Film Institute gala at the Kennedy Center before you were born. His focus, pun intended, at the moment was Lily Tomlin who, post event, was waiting for her AFI-supplied car to be brought around. The anal wart of photographers, and a wart in training, were literally pushing people [read
"nobodies"] out of the shots, and, after Lily firmly but politely said she did not want her picture taken with Galella kissing her on the cheek, he distracted her and then speared her face with his pig lips anyway just as his forewarned assistant wart took a picture. If Lily's looks could indeed kill, Galella would, as I'd hoped, be dead. Visit the gallery. Set fire to it.
he is a man of wonder...to think he was even brave enough to do that says enough. he is my role model
That's a scary picture.