I’m not sure why it took so long for me to meet Jeffrey Kilmer. We should have crossed paths much sooner, although he spent most of his time in graduate school at Michigan while I was away in Los Angeles at SCI-Arc. While I had kept an eye on things happening at Michigan (I was still designing the occasional book or postcard for the architecture program) we had mutual friends and I knew him by name, but don’t think we ever met in the 90s. By the time I returned to Ann Arbor to teach, he had graduated.
In the 00s, I learned he had published a book of his photography, 23% PURE while living in NYC, and was excited to see him doing something different with his architectural education.
When we started the practice we knew the importance of having our projects photographed, although we weren’t always able to do so. Still years before social media, we weren’t even sure the best way to hire architectural photographers, other than people we knew. This worked until they moved away.
About ten years ago I decided it was time to get serious again about documenting our work, and thinking about who we knew. I reached out to Jeffrey to schedule a shoot. He was excited at the opportunity to do some work back in Michigan and in August of 2013 he shot Mills Pharmacy.
Jeffrey grew up in Southeast Michigan, and his parents now lived in Traverse City, so these assignments were also a chance for him to catch up with local friends and visit family. While shoots were often stressful and a lot of work, they were always rewarded with a vacation up north. Our shoots almost always began in pre-dawn darkness as the sun came up and ended with a sense of accomplishment, often over a satisfying meal.
Over the next eight years Jeffrey photographed more than a dozen of our projects. I mean it when I say that recognition our work has received is due in large part to his photographs.
He shot alone, with only a camera and tripod. He’d ask about the project and what was important to capture, but he then took over. During shoots I would assist, cleaning windows or adjusting furniture for him. Meanwhile we would catch up on life — its highs and its lows — and other experiences from our past, comparing parallel timelines and filling in gaps about old friends at Michigan. Like zoning out while driving on a freeway, I would often forget what we were doing and snap back to the task at hand. Meanwhile, Jeffrey was working: setting up and refining the composition in subtle ways that I discover still whenever I study his photographs.
Usually he would shoot two or three projects during a visit — and once five! Last year he visited so we could photograph projects from 2019 and 2020 that we weren’t able to document during the early waves of the pandemic. Over two days we shot three projects. The last few years had been hard on him and his health, although he managed to find the time to continue to send news clippings from the New York Times of projects he thought would interest me — carefully cut and folded and tucked neatly into an envelope.
This past April, late morning on a Friday, a message came through Instagram from a classmate of his, sharing that the day prior, Jeffrey had passed away in the hospital. As I write this on another late morning Friday four months later, I’m still struck with sadness that he’s no longer with us.
Yet I am comforted by the stories shared by the people who knew him. I am immensely grateful we had the opportunity to work together, and think of him every time I look at our portfolio.
A NYC Memorial will take place tomorrow, August 20th from 1-3pm at Home Sweet Home in the LES. Sending love to all his friends and family.
—Christian Unverzagt, August 19, 2022, Detroit.
Photos: Jeffrey Kilmer, July 15, 2015, Detroit followed by project photos taken by him 2013–2021.