Recently, I came to know that Philip Perkis, my then main professor at Pratt Institute, passed away November last year. He was ninety.
I saw him for the first time in summer 1993, in front of Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. He was sitting relaxed with his wife. He looked very welcoming and easy-going to an aspiring young Asian guy (me), who just arrived from Japan. That was practically the moment I decided to study photography at Pratt Institute.
It is very true that I, a poor guy only with the standard education of Japan, learned so much from him. The most significant was his photo critique class. In the class, he enforced unique principles:
~No rudeness
~No competition
~No psychotherapy upon work for class (which is not the goal)
~Free for class to choose what work to be talked about
They seem simple and easy, but are the most crucial factors only under which we can discuss upon someone’s work genuinely positive. I still follow his principles all the time.
I could not make myself close enough to him, meaning he and I didn’t become like “master and disciple,” which is no surprise. Through his classes, I assumed I have gotten the most out of him, such as how to live a life as a photographic artist, how to look at the world of art, etc. By knowing upon the most important issues, photographic artists shall not necessarily flock together. We can and should survive by our own.
Late in his career, he gradually lost his eyesight. It must have been devastating and unacceptable for him. Photography and eyesight sound like synonyms. It is beyond imagination for me.
Dearest Professor Perkis. Thank you very much for opening and broadening my view to art of photography. I will keep walking, somewhat following your path. With sincere gratitude, please rest in peace. KT
Koyo Tamaki, photographic artist 