For the rest of the decade—the years represented by these Polaroids—she was booked and busy. “It was such a period of growth for me as a photographer,” Shur told me. “I really found myself, I’d say.” (She’s since released monographs exploring her travels to Japan and her neighborhood in L.A.) The Polaroids, meanwhile, tell some unexpected tales. Some of her subjects, then at the pinnacle of fame, have since gone down strange paths. Cheryl Hines, whom she shot for Entertainment Weekly, was known at the time for “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” One Polaroid shows a concept that wasn’t ultimately used, with Hines’s mascara running down her stoic face—a defiant-martyr look that carries an unintended irony, now that Hines is notorious as the wife of Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
Other Polaroids capture the musical moment: a grinning Ghostface Killah (“He was very bummed that he was smiling”); a shirtless Coolio (“Coolio was late”); a frilly Nicole Scherzinger, then the ascendant lead vocalist of the Pussycat Dolls. Kid Rock, whom she shot for Spin, at his property in Michigan, was known as a flashy country rocker and not yet as a Trumpist firebrand. The shoot, Shur said, involved a lot of “loud” poses of the artist in his “ugly leather jacket and hat,” but the Polaroid catches him looking uncharacteristically subdued at his keyboard: “I was unsure if he was going to be down to take those quieter pictures, and he was.”
Kid Rock, 2003.
Amanda Seyfried, 2008.
Some of the male actors evoke the indie-boy cool factor of the time: Adam Brody, Jason Schwartzman, Peter Sarsgaard. The “Scrubs” star Zach Braff, who defined a certain twee-depressive counterculture with his 2004 film “Garden State,” posed for Interview in a tweedy jacket. “I had a very innocent, professional crush on him at the time,” Shur recalled with a sigh. “I was, like, In another life, me and this nice Jewish boy from New Jersey could have been great.”
‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.newyorker.com ’
