Above, the author closing a deal. Below, Phillip's workspace. Good god. Files of current assignments, including some pieces for Harper's. Phillip wrote to me in an email: "I love it! You're turning me into a Collyer Brothers type." Carroll Gardens from a window.
Below, more books. These are all by dead Americans. Phillip's wife was a book designer who sometimes posed her handsome husband for covers. On Jim Cirn's The Big Squeeze, he's a gangster. In the Polaroid, that's him as a bloody corpse--another dead American. "Now I can say I've fulfilled my true dreams in life: to be an actor and a model."
And now from his sweeter side, and more prominently displayed, is a collection of essays, memoirs, and poems from his daughter. Lookout world, Lily's coming up.
This is the bookcase in the hall filled with English literature. Books he's written are on the top shelf, and passages are marked so he can grab one when he's heading out to do a reading. "It's not purely vanity. It's also practical." DVDs find a home in the only place that seems to fit, in the corner between the library and the bathroom.