On December 19, 1974, photographer Peter Hujar visits the SoHo apartment of writer Linda Rosenkrantz to participate in an interview for her book project that aims to document ordinary days in the lives of artists. The setting is intimate and unassuming: they sit on a couch, a cigarette in hand, while Linda records and occasionally interrupts to ask questions, clarify details, and coax Peter to recall even the most seemingly insignificant moments. What follows is a meticulous, almost forensic, day-in-the-life recounting that unfolds in real time as the camera and tape keep rolling.
Peter begins by recounting how he slept through his 8:30 a.m. alarm and was roused by a call from Jacqueline de Mornay, an Elle editor, who was on her way to collect his photographs of model Lauren Hutton. While waiting for her arrival, he fielded a call from Susan Sontag, who asked for directions to his gallery exhibition before leaving for Paris. Linda’s prompting leads Peter to admit that he had lied to Sontag to cover up an earlier name-drop involving a gallery representative. When Jacqueline arrives, she compliments his work but cannot say how much he will be paid, which leaves him feeling uneasy as she departs with the prints. He then tries to determine the money he is owed, taking calls from neighbor Bob Mony and artist Ed Baynard, and vents about Ed’s lengthy conversation before finally returning to bed for another hour.
After waking again, he buys cigarettes, dials poet Allen Ginsberg to arrange a portrait session for The New York Times, and heads to the Lower East Side to meet the poet. At Ginsberg’s apartment, he encounters Peter Orlovsky and several visitors while Ginsberg finishes calls and prepares to leave. Their initial exchange is awkward; Ginsberg resists the assignment, insisting on an outdoor shoot rather than the conventional studio portrait. He then leads Peter through the neighborhood, posing among abandoned buildings and inside the burned-out remains of the former Peace Eye Book Store while chanting and meditating. Peter explains that he is not representing a corporate newspaper agenda and that this is his first Times assignment; gradually, Ginsberg softens and agrees to continue the session inside the apartment. They make a stop at a vegetable stand on the way back, where Ginsberg buys persimmons, and they resume the portraits. Their conversation touches on William S. Burroughs, whom Peter is scheduled to photograph the following day, and they part on friendly terms. Yet afterwards, Peter confesses to Linda that he feels a disconnect with Ginsberg and believes the photographs do not quite function as true portraits.
Back at his own apartment, Peter eats a simple meal and spends the evening developing film in the darkroom. He tries to avoid social calls by telling a caller a lie, and Linda phones again to remind him to write down everything he did that day. He dutifully notes the events before returning to the darkroom to finish the negatives, taking calls from Glenn O’Brien, Vince Aletti, and later Fran Lebowitz. The interview continues as the two move around the space—preparing tea, smoking, listening to records, and even sharing a brief, improvised dance—while the tape continues to capture the flow of memory and reflection.
The day’s social visits unfold in turn: Vince comes by because the apartment has no hot water, and they share Chinese takeout while musing over the Ginsberg session and Peter’s sense that he spends his days working without achieving much of lasting consequence. Glenn stops briefly to pick up photographic negatives before leaving. After their guests depart, Peter spends the rest of the night printing photographs for a restaurant commission and preparing prints for clients. He initially feels disappointed by the Ginsberg contact sheets, but his perspective shifts as he begins to see their value and question the idea that his work should depend on the fame of his subjects. The process is taxing, intensified by his failing eyesight as he retouches prints, and it prompts a candid meditation on aging, physical decline, and the death of a fellow photographer.
As the day stretches into night, Peter and Linda discuss the tension between ambition and independent work, weighing the desire for lasting images that stand on their own against the pull of who they photograph. He finishes preparing prints for the following day, plays a Bach piece on a harpsichord to unwind, brushes his teeth, and lies down exhausted from work and heavy smoking. Linda chides him for smoking, and he confesses a wish to quit. Just as sleep begins, the city outside delivers its final, incongruous notes: sex workers outside his building and a woman applying makeup in the reflection of a parked detention-centre truck punctuate the quiet before rest. He reconstructs every significant and trivial moment of the day in his mind, and after a long exhale, he and Linda look out at the river, bringing the intimate interview to a contemplative close.
