Pat York has been called “a major voice in the world of photography.”

The former Vogue photographer and Glamour photographer/travel editor became one of the—one of THE—portraitists for the stars in the 1960s and 70s.

She’s photographed Andy Warhol, the Kennedys, John Travolta. You’ve probably seen her portraits of Steve Martin.

She visited Russia and Iran in 1963 for her first two stories as a writer for Glamour. Captured the now-famous photo of Jane Fonda in her dressing room on the set of “Barbarella” in 1966 (Fonda is cooking over a stove in her chain bikini costume). Shot a series of get-togethers on the superyacht of Prince Aga Khan in Sardinia in the 1970s.

When she got tired of shooting celebrities—“I began to lose my passion for it,” she says—York focused on artistic photography.

Her work has been featured in major museums, from The Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington D.C to The Marble Palace of the Russian State Museum in St. Petersburg to The Hong Kong Film Archive in Hong Kong to The Wellcome Trust in London.

Her 2004 book, “Pat York: Covered-Uncovered” starts with her celebrity photos. Part two focuses on ordinary people—including their plumber—who agreed to be photographed in the nude, while working. Part three features Pat’s groundbreaking work photographing human cadavers. She also wrote “Going Strong,” about discovering the secret to a long and healthy life.

“Nature has always been one of the most important parts of my life,” she says. “Travel has given me the opportunity to experience Nature in all its diversity.”

Oh, and she happens to be married—since 1968—to Michael York, the “quintessential British actor” who has starred in everything from The Three Musketeers (1973) to Logan’s Run (1976) to the Austin Powers movies (1990s).

She was born Patricia Watson in Jamaica to an English diplomat father and an English mother, attended a French convent school in England and was tutored in Germany, eloped as a teenager (for a short-lived marriage) and gave birth to a son, Rick (a film producer).

Then, in 1967, she met Michael York.

“I lived in New York, and I worked for Vogue and Glamour,” says Pat, from her Charter House apartment. “I photographed Raquel Welch in Spain just before photographing a group of English writers, directors, and the new young actor Michael York who had just come out at the same time in New York in his two first movies, ‘Taming Of The Shrew’ and ‘Accident.’ Well, Michael and I just clicked. … He proposed on Juhu Beach in Mumbai on Valentine’s Day of 1967. We were married in 1968.”

As a couple, Michael and Pat have been described as “a binary star, each in orbit around the other.”

In 2022, with Michael facing medical issues (he was diagnosed with a rare condition called amyloidosis), the couple sold their home in Hollywood Hills and moved into downtown Rochester to be closer to Mayo Clinic.

Today, Pat and Michael still travel when they can and stay busy with work (he’s heading to a Rochester-area recording studio for some voiceover work this month; she takes a call from an art gallery looking to sell some of her photos during our interview).

Here are three stories from Pat’s photo career.

by Pat York

In 1966, I was invited to photograph the actors Marlon Brando and Robert Forster in the film version of Carson McCullers’ novel “Reflections in a Golden Eye.”

It was a night shoot starting at dusk and continuing until daybreak, with the location at Mitchel Field, a former Air Force base on Long Island. John Huston, the film’s director, was a friend of mine, and I had met the producer, Ray Stark, and his wife, Frances Brice, the daughter of the famous Fanny Brice, at various functions.

I was warned that Marlon Brando did not trust photographers; any film I shot of him had to be delivered to him personally, and he would have it processed.

The evening, though, was memorable for a surprising and life enhancing few hours spent with another man who was labeled a recluse.

As usual on a film set, there was time spent waiting for scenes to be set up. During one of those breaks a handsome mature man approached me and started a conversation. He kept telling me he loved my voice and he also asked many questions about my views on certain topics, my likes and dislikes. There was no opportunity to ask him about himself as he was questioning me without a break and kept telling me how much he liked my voice. I thanked him but could not understand his obsession with my vocal chords.

Finally, he mentioned that he could not believe I had no trace of an accent and inquired what part of Italy I was from. I told him I was an American who had been born in Jamaica and attended a French school in England and had also been tutored in Germany with the rest of my education in the States. He looked stunned. He told me that he had been asking various people who I was and had been told by at least three that I was Italian. We both laughed.

I introduced myself, and he told me his name: J.D. Salinger.

After I recovered from the surprise, I could not equate our easy and free ranging conversation with the knowledge that this was a man who was reported to be a recluse.

I told him how much I loved “The Catcher In The Rye,” and that my young son, Rick, had just read it, and could talk about nothing else. Its author said he would like to be in touch with Rick and asked for his name and address.

We talked for the rest of the evening between my photographing and the silences demanded by the filming. He introduced me to a writer I admired enormously, Lillian Ross, a great friend of John Huston’s, who had written the brilliant book “Picture” about the making of the film “The Red Badge of Courage,” which John had directed in the 1950s. She brought her baby son with her that evening.

My assignment on this film was to photograph some daytime scenes as well as the night shots. By this time, J.D. Salinger had returned home, but I remember having a picnic with John Huston, his long-time suffering assistant and co-writer of the screenplay, Gladys Hill, a few others including the brilliant artist Mark Rothko. I still have, and treasure, those images.

My first photographs of Brando were taken while he was walking in movie- induced rain. Then I was asked to photograph him in his trailer. At the end of the session I handed over some of the early rolls of films I had photographed and he said: “What is this for”? I responded that I had been told he did not trust or like photographers and I had been asked to give him any film taken during the evening shoot.

He smiled and said: “Ah, but I trust you completely.”

Shortly after this time on the Golden Eye set, I left for Europe, where various magazines and United Artists had arranged my assignments—Raquel Welch in Spain, Francoise Dorleac and Michael Caine in Finland, Albert Finney in London, the brilliant playwright, John Osborne, on location by the English sea and, for Glamour magazine, a young actor who had just triumphed in his first two films (Franco Zeffirelli’s Taming Of The Shrew and Joe Losey’s Accident) … Michael York. We met in 1967 and married in 1968—but that is another story!

On that European trip, I visited my son, who was in school in Switzerland. I learned that, true to his word, J.D. Salinger had written to Rick, and they had begun a correspondence. A few years later, I met Rick for dinner one evening while he was studying in Paris. He was desolate. His apartment had been completely ransacked, and the suitcase where he kept all Salinger’s letters had been taken. He didn’t care about losing most of his other possessions, but he couldn’t accept that his idol’s correspondence had been stolen.

I am always loath to take advantage of projecting work into a meeting that has not been set up professionally, but I shall always regret that, despite the darkness of the night shoot, I had not asked to take Salinger’s photograph. It would have remained a potent souvenir of a brief, but unforgettable, encounter.

by Pat York

In 2006, Gmurzynska Gallery, my representative at the time, had requested me to photograph the pop artist, Robert Indiana, for my book “Fame and Frame.” His rendering of the work LOVE had become one of the most iconic art works of the 20th century.

I enthusiastically agreed to fly to the East Coast, hire a car to Rockland where ferries transported passengers to Vinalhaven, the larger of the off-shore islands in Maine.

Michael was accompanying me, and little did either of us realize the next few days would be one of the most frustrating photographic shoots of my career. In the end it was worthwhile and enjoyable.

On arrival I contacted Robert and told him we were staying at the Tidewater Motel very close to his large historic Victorian home. My gallery had arranged for the shoot to take place and Robert’s assistant, Melissa, had been alerted of our visit.

When we met Robert he was insistent we leave the motel and move to the charming house owned by Scott, the boyfriend of Melissa. This was much further away and we preferred to be independent and told him we did not wish to move. He persisted and so did we.

That was one of our first disagreements.

Before accepting a dinner invitation to a lobster restaurant, I was eager to look around Robert’s house and adjoining studio to determine where and when I could photograph him the following day.

He did show us many rooms in the house but the light and backgrounds were not ideal and there was a musty atmosphere.

The studio, in contrast, was perfect. Some of his paintings were hanging or stacked against a wall. But he seemed to believe the house would be more appropriate for the shoot. Again I told him the studio would be my choice. He told me he would discuss this the following day.

Dinner was fun and I liked Robert. He told us about his life and he was happy we were with the same gallery. He was looking forward to the important exhibition they had arranged for him.

It took some persuasion to make an appropriate time to meet the next day. He then suggested breakfast and we could make a decision at that time. After another enjoyable meal together I decided to please him and discovered one area in the house where the natural light was perfect. He sat in a chair with a large stuffed giraffe behind him and that connection seemed to delight him.

He became voluble about the fact that he felt his work had been plagiarized more than any other artist. He believed his art was not understood. He had departed from New York and was not eager to return.

Michael had been invited to join us as Robert wanted to show us even more rooms. He took us to a place where he had kept many earlier years of editions of the New York Times. He explained that he had to keep up with the political scene and we both agreed that the present administration did not please us at all.

I listened patiently, hoping to coax him into his studio. That finally happened and I started to photograph him. Paintings were hung and pitched against the walls.

Here was the opposite of his house. Bright red and bright yellow and lighter shades were abundant. Stuffed animals were everywhere. I photographed him hugging a huge lion with the baby stuffed animals at his feet. His expression showed true love towards these creatures.

He stands in photographs, he sits in others. He moves when I ask him. He was relaxed and looked wistful but he was giving me the necessary time. Later he took me outside to another area and this is where I photographed him with one of his wooden sculptures. I was aware of this work but I was not as familiar with them as his paintings. I loved them.

At the end of the shoot I thanked him and told him I felt I had enough images for my book and for my gallery to have as portraits in one of my exhibitions of artists.

A look of dismay crossed his face. “You cannot leave without seeing the island. You must stay one more day,” he declared. “And then the next morning before you leave you can photograph me in another location.”

Michael and I were happy to spend an extra day and visit this enchanting island. And so we agreed. Melissa and Scott were kind enough to drive us around the island and to take us to lunch. Melissa had heard about my photographing nudes for my three part exhibition—Covered/Uncovered: Celebrities, Subjects at work in the nude and Cadavers.

She asked me if I would photograph her in the nude near the house where they lived. We both enjoyed working together. The setting was green and peaceful. She was natural and uninhibited and moved freely amongst the trees. And she was lovely. It was an unexpected gift to have another photograph for my nude series.

The next day we were driven to where Robert had promised to meet us for a final photographic session. We waited and waited and then were told he was not joining us. I was somewhat annoyed and decided to go to the ferry and not wait any longer to say goodbye.

As Michael and I were waiting in line to board the ferry Robert arrived with many gifts. He handed them to us and told us how much he had enjoyed meeting us. Again he suggested we stay a little longer. I could not be upset. I was grateful to him for his generosity and I had enjoyed the experience of photographing him enormously.

On a May morning in 2018, I read that Robert Indiana had died. I read about his death and his last years of being solitary and not seeing any of his friends.

I look back on my meeting and photographing him with sadness. The outcome of our working together pleased me and my Gallery and others who have bought some of the images shared that feeling. Then I think of the man and the few days that Michael and I spent with him. The time when I was photographing him was the most relaxed for me and I believe for him. He was gentle and seemed happy each time I suggested another area for the shoot.

And there was always his stuffed animals. His love for them was apparent and he held them as though they brought him safety and peace. … Pleasing him with the first shoot in his house was a good idea as I believe he felt he was in charge and was then happy to move on to his light filled studio.

At other times away from the shoot I sometimes felt it was a contest between us. When he decided he would agree to be photographed he gave me so much more than his other self.

I did not ask him why he had isolated himself on this distant island but he did mention to me that he did not want to return to New York. By wanting us to stay an extra day and drive around his island of Vinalhaven I think it was to show us that he had chosen a place to live of beauty and peace.

Looking back I believe he wanted us to know his decision of isolation had been the right one for him.

I kept thinking of his insistence for us to see every room in his house. Often he stopped to point out different items that he considered exceptional and beautiful and he did not want us to move on until we had commented that we liked them.

There was a frenzy in the air when I started my career at Conde Nast in 1962. Pop Art was flourishing. Robert’s iconic LOVE defined that era. The house in Vinalhaven was the opposite. Robert was a complicated man.

Robert had chosen this life of isolation living in a crumbling house surrounded by so much from the past. The depiction of love had been taken literally but there was so much more to his art. Death, forgiveness, sin and love were all involved.

I am hoping I am wrong and that he was content. But I still have my doubts.

by Pat York

The artist who was a true hero of mine is Jasper Johns.

He was in the forefront of so many artistic movements—pop, minimal, and conceptual.

In 2007, my gallery wanted to give me a photographic exhibition of artists that would travel globally. My publisher, teNeues, wanted to publish my book, “Fame and Frame,” in three different languages.

I wanted Jasper Johns to be in both my book and exhibition. I was told he was reclusive and a very private person and would never agree to be photographed. I contacted Jasper through his representative asking if I could photograph him. I received a very polite message thanking me and telling me that he was very busy that month.

I sent a return email telling him I would email him every month to see if he was not quite so busy. To my surprise and delight, I was told I could make a date to photograph him in his Connecticut studio in the next three days.

Jasper sent a driver to meet me at the train station. I was not quite sure where we were going. On the way to his home I saw a sign for Millbrook and then knew exactly where we were.

On my arrival, Jasper greeted me warmly. He was tall and handsome and was wearing a green and red plaid shirt and beige pants. We spent time talking while I looked around his studio before photographing him.

I told him about noticing he lived near Millbrook and I mentioned my LSD experience in the 1960s with Timothy Leary who lived at an Estate in Millbrook. This occasion was to be published in Glamour but was found to be too controversial. But for me it was a wonderful, life enhancing experience.

Jasper said: “I regret to this day that I did not take LSD. I was scared. I know so many of my artists’ friends who benefited from the experience in both their work and personal lives.”

I gave Jasper three of my books to make him more familiar with my work. He looked through them and spent more time looking at the images of the cadavers and the interior of the body.

I mentioned their beauty.

He replied: “I am riveted but am not sure I can see the beauty.”

I started to photograph Jasper with different works of his art. He was very generous with his time. His expressive reactions before the camera delighted me. Sometimes his expression was severe, other times pensive and in another part of his studio with all his paints and canvases he is laughing heartily.

After the session was over he invited me to tea and gave me the opportunity of viewing his personal spectacular art collection. I thought two of the drawings were by Albrecht Durer. I was mistaken.

We discussed Durer’s work and I discovered Jasper was as impressed as I was with this formidable artist. I felt we talked as though we had known each other longer than the few previous hours.

He invited me to stay and have a drink and cookies. I asked for green tea and it was the best I had ever tasted. Jasper was drinking Coca Cola and I pedantically told him how bad that was for his health. He said he knew and would continue anyway. I believe we mentioned we should keep in touch.

I left Jasper with regret, wanting to spend more time with him. I am delighted to say we have kept in touch.