As former model Chris Royer explains to me, the best way to understand what it was like to work with Duane Michals is to use the Hungarian term “kinscvadászat,” which essentially means a “treasure hunt.” For Royer, a Duane Michals story was exactly that, “you were going on a trip, you knew you were going to discover things, it was a creative treasure hunt.”

Michals, who passed away on June 9 at 94, was born on February 18, 1932, in McKeesport, Pennsylvania. As a young boy he showed an interest in art and by age 14 he was taking watercolor classes at the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh. He went on to receive a B.A. from the University of Denver in 1953, and after a two year stint in the army, began studying at the Parsons School of Design, intent on becoming a graphic designer.

A trip to the U.S.S.R. in 1958 changed everything. The snaps he took while on vacation ignited a passion for photography. Michals abandoned the idea of becoming an art director and instead focused his energies on working behind the lens. The pictures from this trip would comprise his first exhibition at the Underground Gallery in New York in 1963.

While developing his practice as a fine arts photographer in the late 1960s, Michals began working for Condé Nast titles. One of his earliest assignments was a portrait of the musician Johnny Cash for the November, 1969, issue of Mademoiselle. Unlike most portraits, which are strictly a rendering of the subject, Michals photographed Cash through a window, using his own reflection as a primary element within the picture of the star quietly seated in his hotel room.

Allowing himself to be part of his images would become an important component of Michals’ work as he evolved as an artist. He also introduced text as an additional storytelling element and pioneered the idea of creating narrative through multiple images. As his close friend, the critic Philip Gefter, explained in The New York Times, Michals was “an artist of significant consequence” who can be credited as “the father of the photographic narrative sequence.” He was also openly gay at a time when many homosexuals remained closeted.

Michals contributed regularly for Vogue during the 1970s and 1980s. His work during that period ranged from shooting stills of Robert Redford and Mia Farrow in costume on set while filming The Great Gatsby, to reportage of the San Francisco ballet and jewelry designer Elsa Peretti hard at work in her legendary studio/apartment, to portraits of notable men, including Yves Saint Laurent, Dudley Moore, and Philip Glass.

In 1976 Michals made his mark in the fashion pages of Vogue. Tasked with photographing the spring and fall collections with editors Polly Mellen and Jade Hobson, he produced two entirely different portfolios both of which showcased his creative adventurism and mastery of the craft.

For those who worked at Vogue during its years at Condé Nast headquarters at 350 Madison Avenue, as I did, Michals’ spring collections shoot for the February, 1976, issue hits close to home. As Royer explains it, Michals had the idea of shooting the models as “working women,” and what better place to do it than in the Vogue art department planning room? It was the room where the magazine was literally put together. The most striking image from the story depicts Royer and another model reviewing 35mm transparency slides while a Vogue staffer passes by in a blur of activity, a prelude to what Michals had in mind for the fall.

Later that year, Michals went in an entirely different direction for the fall collections. Eschewing his tendency to shoot on location, he instead chose to work in a studio, but not just any studio. Michals gathered together a group of models (including Royer) in the legendary Carnegie Hall studio of photographer Edita Sherman. Sherman was known as the “Duchess of Carnegie Hall” and lived and worked there for over 60 years.

Christiaan was the hair stylist on a number of the pictures and recalls that Michals was “somewhat demure with a friendly determination” and quickly “started orchestrating everyone around the room, like a slow moving carousel that he was allowed to move about.” The resulting images are a high point in fashion photography. Not only was Michals able to masterfully assemble a large group of models, which is no easy task, but his use of a slow shutter to create a slightly blurring effect gave the images an energy and emotion rarely found in studio fashion photographs.

Christiaan admits that at the start of the shoot everyone on set was a bit nervous, as Michals wasn’t your typical fashion photographer. “Nevertheless,” he remembers, “everyone sensed that they were part of something special.”