Here’s a interview with the acclaimed and revered art director Michael Rand, ex- art director at The Sunday Times Magazine in UK, over on Professional Photographer.

Many years ago after I won the Ian Parry Memorial Award I was able to squeeze my young self and fat folio through the door of The Sunday Times Magazine, squeeze in, past the answer machines, past the people who head you off at the gate. I got in, into Michael Rand’s room, into the inner sanctum. He was pleasant, courteous, and said I could leave my folio, he’d take a look.

So I did. I left my folio. A humble folio at that point, some Romanian work in it, the beginnings of my career in it. I left it hoping I’d get assignments for the iconic Sunday Times Magazine. I hoped I could get assignments which would take me all over the world.

But when you leave your folio with people, how do you ever know if it has been looked at ? Really. How do you know unless they comment on something within it. A lot of times you’d pick up the folio and people would just say “thanks, you’ve some nice pics. We’ll hopefully call you one day” Yeah. Sure ya will. Thanks. Maybe they did look, maybe they didn’t. Who knows. You hope.

But this time I left my folio in Michael Rand’s room, it was there for a few days or so. I hoped he’d look at it, in between laying out spreads of classic work by McCullin or Griffiths, or whoever. Hopefully.

Then I was told, sure come pick it up. Many thanks. And I took it outside, took a flick through it to see if he’d left an airplane ticket to some crazy country in it, but no. No ticket, no assignment sheet. No comments. But I did know he’d had a look. Or if it wasn’t Michael Rand himself, then someone had at least taken a look, that was a start. But how did I know ?

There, between two images, between two of the nice clean sleeves, so carefully presented and agonised over. There between two of my young fledgling folio hoping to make it in the world pages was the proof that it’d been looked at. A small measure of success, it’d at least been looked at. Yep, there it was. The proof.

There was chocolate cake stuck between the pages.