The interesting thing about Rankin was never just the celebrity of his subjects, although the list is undeniable. What was truly powerful was the feeling of being in the presence of someone who understood that a photographer could also design their own ecosystem. Not just making images, but deciding where they are shown, how they are edited, in which magazines they circulate, in which books they remain, and under what aesthetic they are remembered. That was his intelligence. More than seeking legitimacy, he built a platform.

In my case, the impact was primarily technical and visual. During a very intense research period on photographers and fashion photography, Rankin was one of those names that pushed me to experiment. His use of the ring flash, that very recognizable frontal glow, the retouched finish, the skin stretched towards an almost graphic perfection, the direct, resounding, unabashed portraits. All of that led me to experiment, to buy my own ring flash, to go out and take portraits, to watch his making-of videos, to study how he shot and how he turned a session into a style statement. Here, I'm not so interested in mythologizing him as I am in acknowledging something simpler: there was a time when his way of working opened up concrete possibilities in mine.

That's why ANNROY had so much power. It wasn't just a headquarters. It was the materialization of a very precise idea of what a life dedicated to image could be: its own gallery, bookstore, studio, team, structure. A building where photography didn't just occupy a room, but organized an entire system. Even its expansion to Los Angeles, with a gallery on Melrose Avenue in 2011, responded to that same ambition to turn work into space and space into a cultural brand. I haven't been able to confirm with enough certainty how long that project in Los Angeles lasted, so I prefer not to assert anything beyond its opening.