HOWZAT

Mapplethorpe also photographed classical nudes — among them sculptures of a wrestler and of a naked Icarus — as if to emphasise his affinity with the the traditional history of the representation of the body. He was deeply affected by GraecoRoman sculpture. He once said that, if he had been born 200 years earlier, he would have been a sculptor. He uses dancers and body-builders, male and female, to convey the elastic strength and sinuousness of the human frame. They are invaded by a strictly classical spirit, established upon harmony and proportion, the offspring of Apollo rather than of Dionysus. In the last two years of his short life he photographed pieces of antique statuary, of which the luminescence is staggering.

Mapplethorpe was the quintessential photographer of sexual liberation in the Seventies and Eighties; but he did not live to see the end of that decade; in the spring of 1989, at the age of 42, he died of complications from Aids. But, if he were only the chronicler of those decades, he would not have survived into a new century. He is still worth seeing. “I want people to see my works first as art,” he said, “and second as photography.” It is a noble aspiration, but one that he could claim to have fulfilled.

Robert Mapplethorpe, Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, 75 Belford Road, Edinburgh (www.natgalscot.ac.uk 0131-624 6200), until Nov 5; £6, £4

“He got the shot and said, ‘You’re dead’ ” . . . Tim Teeman talks to the models

Lawrence Weiner, artist “He and I were friends. We lived around the corner from each other and he photographed me twice. The first time I went up and down his shooting platform, wearing a scarf. He said my name, I said, ‘Yes,’ and turned around and he shot me. He got the shot and said, ‘Lawrence, you’re dead,’ meaning ‘Gotcha, great shot.’

“He was the strangest of human beings, he was totally polite. That’s the thing I most remember. There was always a ‘Goodnight’ for a barman. He was also a sexy, raunchy guy, he wore leather trousers but he didn’t need to flirt with or flatter me. He was always totally calm.”

Smutty Smith, musician “I met Robert on the music scene in the late 1970s. I was in a band called the Rockats and our 15 minutes was around that time. Those days were amazing — the rock, fashion and art scenes all came together in New York. You’d go to a bar and there, trying to get served, would be Andy Warhol, Robert Mapplethorpe and Jean-Michel Basquiat. I was only 19 and took it all a bit for granted. I used to pop around to Andy’s studio. I hung out with lots of people: Bruce Weber, Candy Darling, Stephen Meisel . . . One of the things that impressed them was that I wasn’t trying to impress.

I started doing some modelling. There weren’t many kids looking like me at that time — androgynous, with tattoos.

“I went round to Robert’s studio to have my photograph taken. It wasn’t sexual, I’m straight, but hey, I was young and if I’d had a few drinks I’d have done whatever he wanted me to do. He had a metal bed with no mattress, just springs. I didn’t know what he was into till he showed me his portfolio with all the bondage stuff — pretty hardcore, I lost my breath slightly.

“We had a glass of wine and talked about haircuts and music. He took two shots of me, one in black leather trousers and one in pink and black rockabilly trousers. There wasn’t much direction. He just said, ‘Turn slightly and pretend you’re blocking out the sun.’ ”

Explore Specials

• Style Guide