Jill Freedman, Photographer Who Lingered in the Margins, Dies at 79
Lion’s Head bar in Greenwich Village closed at 5 a.m. — she found her stride in New York when the city was still mostly seedy, living her life and work as if she were auditioning for a role in one of her photos. A police siren, she said, meant that someone was playing her song.
“My friends and relatives know I’m nuts,” she told The New York Times about her total immersion in her subjects. “It’s obsessive. I want to tell the story and I want to get it right. God forbid I should make it easy on myself.”
photo, Ms. Freedman caught two firemen, apparently having survived a mission, sharing a cathartic kiss.