In the summer of 1974, I wrote a paper at Harvard University entitled “Brassaï and Surrealism, Brassaï as Surrealist.” The professor, I later discovered, was Brassaï’s acquaintance, and had me forward the paper to the photographer himself. Brassaï wrote back that I had “understood and expressed the spirit in which [he] photographed.” Immediately, I quit school and moved to Paris. So began my relationship with Brassaï, one that endured through the last decade of his life—more a mentored friendship than an assistant position. At that point, he was no longer taking photographs, and was focusing on writing. I helped put together his book The Secret Paris of the 30’s for publication in 1976. It comprised the photographs—mostly night pictures—considered too risqué for publication in 1932’s Paris by Night.

A self-described noctambulist, Brassaï was determined to document the marvel and imagery he’d come across while meandering through Paris in the wee hours. His delight and intent was to discover the surreal in the real, not to contrive surreal imagery. He’d been painting, drawing, and working as a journalist in Berlin and Paris and had befriended many artists, notably Picasso, who nearly discouraged Brassaï at the outset, warning that he was “giving up his gold mine of painting for a salt mine of photography.”

Brassaï used a simple technique: a Voightlander 9-centimeter-by-12-centimeter plate camera, a lightweight wooden tripod, and often a basic flash. His genius lay in his wide-eyed, empathetic perception of the subject and its stark rendering. He had a child-like, intense curiosity, a great sensitivity to light and composition, and a compassionate sense of humor. He expressed himself eloquently in a new medium without any training, eagerly experimenting until photography suited his needs as quickly and as expediently as possible. Brassaï’s night work was completed over the course of little more than two years.