Juergen Teller moved from Germany to London in 1986, aged 22. He shot album artwork for Björk and Morrissey, then moved from music to fashion photography with stories for the Face, i-D and Vogue. Though he still regularly shoots commercial work for labels such as Burberry, Celine and Marc Jacobs, his main focus now is art photography and teaching. He has become as well known for his candid self-portraits as for his portraits. His latest exhibition – a group show with painter Maggi Hambling called The Quick and the Dead – features both.
How did you meet Maggi?
It was years ago in Suffolk, where Sarah Lucas used to have summer pagan parties. I think Sadie [Coles, Teller’s ex-partner] and Sarah lived together then. Maggi and I were intimidated by each other so we didn’t talk much. People do say they find me intimidating, but I really have no idea why. Then I photographed Maggi for Pop magazine [in 2015] and she was warm and friendly and giving. She wanted to paint me.
Do you like having your portrait done?
It’s an adventure. I don’t necessarily care what it looks like, it’s up to them what they get out of it. I was intrigued with how Maggi works, how completely concentrated and almost animalistic she is. I photographed her while she painted me, and that image is in the show.
Is it better to photograph a friend or a stranger?
It varies. You have a blank slate when it’s someone you don’t know. When I photographed Yves Saint Laurent, for example, I was only allowed five minutes with him. This old man was carried in by two bodyguards because he couldn’t walk so well, and they put him down, standing in front of me – one guard to the left, one to the right. I got the photo in 30 seconds.
There’s a lot of nudity in your work. Are the public more shocked by it now than at the start of your career?
I don’t think there’s much nudity in the spectrum of my work. I did portraits of [model] Malgosia where I photographed her naked on Sigmund Freud’s couch. I wanted to explore that, but I’m not considering: “Oh my God, what will the public think?” I mean, she was 35. I photographed [model] Kristen McMenamy naked when she was 45, Vivienne Westwood and Charlotte Rampling were in their 60s, so it felt morally right for me and the subjects. For me, being German, naked is a natural way to be. When I started my self-portraits, I didn’t want to be associated with any statement of dress. That’s how you’re born, that’s how you do it. I like the shapes and the colour of flesh.
Is the work involving your family therapeutic?
Yes, the work with my mother brought us closer together. My father committed suicide and I did a picture which will hang in Maggi’s thing, a self-portrait with his grave. I’m naked with a football, holding a cigarette and a beer bottle. That was difficult for my mother. It also didn’t go down well in her village – she got looks in the butcher’s. But for me it was about working out why my father killed himself. I also realised I had my own problems with cigarettes and alcohol at the time, like he had. I decided to publish it without Mum’s consent. I think it’s the only time I’ve gone over somebody’s wishes, but I felt this is not only her problem, it’s my problem, too. It really opened up conversations, it was a key to something deeper when we talked about certain things my dad did. She understood why I had to do it and that was very important from something so very painful. That was the only reason I put this in the show. Maggi wanted a self-portrait and as the show is called The Quick and the Dead, this photo is perfect.
Everyone carries a camera now. How has that changed photography?
Suddenly my mother takes pictures again, and my daughter does these stupid little videos for Instagram and I can see my son’s skateboard tricks there. On that level I like it. I use the iPhone like everyone else – it’s an extraordinary, excellent instrument. What’s problematic in the professional world is the clients – they have the camera out quicker than I do. They snap along. A shoot used to be a complete concentration of work with people around me; that adventure of creating something on your own. You have to fight for that these days.
A lot of your early work was in print – magazine and ad campaigns. Do you feel sad that that world is dying?
I do like holding something in my hand – a piece of paper, books and magazines. I think it’s highly questionable what the role of a normal fashion photographer is now – I’m not sure that still exists. On the iPhone, on Instagram, even a shit picture looks kind of good. It’s only in a magazine, in a long fashion story which has to unfold, that you can see an image doesn’t work.
But you’re teaching the next generation of photographers…
That’s already changed in the five years I’ve been doing it. One lecturer came in and asked how many of my students read magazines. None of them did.
You teach at Nuremberg’s Academy of Fine Arts. Do you like spending time in Germany?
Very much. The older I get, the more I like it. It’s the nothing things that mean a lot – walking in a forest you grew up in, eating the things you ate as a kid. I stay with my mother and in the morning she drives me to school. I spend a day with my students – sometimes I stay out and drink with them. Then Mum complains when I’m home late. It feels kind of funny but nice.
Does it make you feel 15 again?
Well, she behaves like I am.
You commute between Germany and the UK. How do you feel about Brexit?
I’ve spent five years building my new studio in the UK – it won the RIBA Stirling prize when it was finally finished. I had so much energy and enthusiasm being in the new building. Within three months, Brexit happened. Most of my team aren’t British and everybody is now completely depressed. I just think, “What the fuck am I doing? This building is here, my children are here” – it’s a terrible moment.
Who would you rather photograph, Angela Merkel or Theresa May?
Of course Angela Merkel.
But Theresa May is fascinatingly awkward.
No, the dislike would be too much, I wouldn’t be able to do it.