I wrote the words linked below on the plane home with the senses of my visit to Pegoretti still enlivened.
I had not met him before, only knew the myths and precursors and I’d not ridden one of his bikes even, but I did come away with a real sense of connection with a creative soul with the same record collection and Birkenstocks I had. When I next saw him we sat and drank together and told me he thought that I had really understood him from our brief meeting. And he liked that. I imagine he was just being kind and charming but I felt really touched that he’d gone out of his way to make that point. I didn’t know him well, but was genuinely saddened when I awoke from my own heart of darkness this autumn to hear he had passed away. I had always imagined re-visiting and listening to records and drinking coffee once more. Alas not, but he’ll always be my Col Kurtz after that rendezvous. Dario Pegoretti, you impacted me profoundly. Thank you. And RIP my friend.
These are three portraits I made of Dario when I arrived, before we’d talked and listened and eaten. It was one of the first exchanges we had, my asking him not to blink as I would only take three photographs, And him blinking slowly and obviously to be naughty in a sweet way. One of my first experiences of the man recorded on Kodak film. A series of photographs imperfect and honest and real. And all the better for it probably.
Original article, first published in Peloton Magazine around 2014 or so.