A Living Archive of Peter Hujar
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Books & the Arts
/ January 27, 2026
A Living Archive of Peter Hujar
The director Ira Sachs’s transforms an intimate interview with the photographer into a film about friendship, routine, and why we make art at all.
Phoebe Chen
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(Courtesy of the Criterion Channel)
There is nowhere to hide in a Peter Hujar portrait—not even in the shadows, which the photographer handled with a singular, sensuous grace. He could reach into a subject and find a point of surrender, translating quietude and startling candor into a picture’s tonal contrasts. From the 1950s until his death in 1987, Hujar documented the creative lodestars of downtown New York, many of whom were his friends, lovers, or sometimes both. He photographed the likes of Susan Sontag and John Waters stretched in repose, or the Warholian legend Candy Darling, encircled by flowers and solemn chiaroscuro on her deathbed. He often photographed himself, too, but the rarest shots of Hujar are those taken by others, candid glimpses that divulge some secret relation. One of these is a Polaroid of Hujar from the 1970s, nestled on a couch with his longtime friend, the writer Linda Rosenkrantz, their heads tilted and conspiratorial in the piercing flash.
This image of friendship seems to anchor Ira Sachs’s new film Peter Hujar’s Day, adapted from the transcript of a long-lost conversation between Hujar and Rosenkrantz that took place on December 19, 1974, condensed and published by Magic Hour Press in 2021. Originally part of a broader project to find out “how people fill their days,” Rosenkrantz had asked Hujar to set down all the ins and outs of any 24 hours in his life—in this case, the 18th of December. Recorded in her apartment the following day, Hujar’s account is filled with the names of cultural heavyweights, alongside a whole lot of nothing that language spins into something. There’s a morning phone call from Sontag, another from Fran Lebowitz, and then the day’s central event: a portrait session with Allen Ginsberg for The New York Times. Between these episodes are midmorning naps and sprouted-wheat sandwiches, fleeting erotic fantasies and a freelance artist’s slapdash accounting of payments owed.
In Sachs’s film, December 18 is a phantom we hear about but never see. What we experience instead is that next day in Rosenkrantz’s apartment, as Hujar (Ben Whishaw) fills it with all the textures and trifles of the previous day. From late morning until early evening, he and Rosenkrantz (Rebecca Hall) drift from room to room in the stretch and slant of the changing light. By that winter, the two friends had known each other for almost 20 years. They’d first met in …
Notice what's missing.
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A Living Archive of Peter Hujar
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Current Issue
Books & the Arts
/ January 27, 2026
A Living Archive of Peter Hujar
The director Ira Sachs’s transforms an intimate interview with the photographer into a film about friendship, routine, and why we make art at all.
Phoebe Chen
Share
Copy Link
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Ad Policy
(Courtesy of the Criterion Channel)
There is nowhere to hide in a Peter Hujar portrait—not even in the shadows, which the photographer handled with a singular, sensuous grace. He could reach into a subject and find a point of surrender, translating quietude and startling candor into a picture’s tonal contrasts. From the 1950s until his death in 1987, Hujar documented the creative lodestars of downtown New York, many of whom were his friends, lovers, or sometimes both. He photographed the likes of Susan Sontag and John Waters stretched in repose, or the Warholian legend Candy Darling, encircled by flowers and solemn chiaroscuro on her deathbed. He often photographed himself, too, but the rarest shots of Hujar are those taken by others, candid glimpses that divulge some secret relation. One of these is a Polaroid of Hujar from the 1970s, nestled on a couch with his longtime friend, the writer Linda Rosenkrantz, their heads tilted and conspiratorial in the piercing flash.
This image of friendship seems to anchor Ira Sachs’s new film Peter Hujar’s Day, adapted from the transcript of a long-lost conversation between Hujar and Rosenkrantz that took place on December 19, 1974, condensed and published by Magic Hour Press in 2021. Originally part of a broader project to find out “how people fill their days,” Rosenkrantz had asked Hujar to set down all the ins and outs of any 24 hours in his life—in this case, the 18th of December. Recorded in her apartment the following day, Hujar’s account is filled with the names of cultural heavyweights, alongside a whole lot of nothing that language spins into something. There’s a morning phone call from Sontag, another from Fran Lebowitz, and then the day’s central event: a portrait session with Allen Ginsberg for The New York Times. Between these episodes are midmorning naps and sprouted-wheat sandwiches, fleeting erotic fantasies and a freelance artist’s slapdash accounting of payments owed.
In Sachs’s film, December 18 is a phantom we hear about but never see. What we experience instead is that next day in Rosenkrantz’s apartment, as Hujar (Ben Whishaw) fills it with all the textures and trifles of the previous day. From late morning until early evening, he and Rosenkrantz (Rebecca Hall) drift from room to room in the stretch and slant of the changing light. By that winter, the two friends had known each other for almost 20 years. They’d first met in …
A Living Archive of Peter Hujar
Notice what's missing.
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A Living Archive of Peter Hujar
Magazine
Newsletters
Subscribe
Log In
Search
Subscribe
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Magazine
Latest
Archive
Podcasts
Newsletters
Sections
Politics
World
Economy
Culture
Books & the Arts
The Nation
About
Events
Contact Us
Advertise
Current Issue
Books & the Arts
/ January 27, 2026
A Living Archive of Peter Hujar
The director Ira Sachs’s transforms an intimate interview with the photographer into a film about friendship, routine, and why we make art at all.
Phoebe Chen
Share
Copy Link
Facebook
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Email
Ad Policy
(Courtesy of the Criterion Channel)
There is nowhere to hide in a Peter Hujar portrait—not even in the shadows, which the photographer handled with a singular, sensuous grace. He could reach into a subject and find a point of surrender, translating quietude and startling candor into a picture’s tonal contrasts. From the 1950s until his death in 1987, Hujar documented the creative lodestars of downtown New York, many of whom were his friends, lovers, or sometimes both. He photographed the likes of Susan Sontag and John Waters stretched in repose, or the Warholian legend Candy Darling, encircled by flowers and solemn chiaroscuro on her deathbed. He often photographed himself, too, but the rarest shots of Hujar are those taken by others, candid glimpses that divulge some secret relation. One of these is a Polaroid of Hujar from the 1970s, nestled on a couch with his longtime friend, the writer Linda Rosenkrantz, their heads tilted and conspiratorial in the piercing flash.
This image of friendship seems to anchor Ira Sachs’s new film Peter Hujar’s Day, adapted from the transcript of a long-lost conversation between Hujar and Rosenkrantz that took place on December 19, 1974, condensed and published by Magic Hour Press in 2021. Originally part of a broader project to find out “how people fill their days,” Rosenkrantz had asked Hujar to set down all the ins and outs of any 24 hours in his life—in this case, the 18th of December. Recorded in her apartment the following day, Hujar’s account is filled with the names of cultural heavyweights, alongside a whole lot of nothing that language spins into something. There’s a morning phone call from Sontag, another from Fran Lebowitz, and then the day’s central event: a portrait session with Allen Ginsberg for The New York Times. Between these episodes are midmorning naps and sprouted-wheat sandwiches, fleeting erotic fantasies and a freelance artist’s slapdash accounting of payments owed.
In Sachs’s film, December 18 is a phantom we hear about but never see. What we experience instead is that next day in Rosenkrantz’s apartment, as Hujar (Ben Whishaw) fills it with all the textures and trifles of the previous day. From late morning until early evening, he and Rosenkrantz (Rebecca Hall) drift from room to room in the stretch and slant of the changing light. By that winter, the two friends had known each other for almost 20 years. They’d first met in …
