Dennis Connors Bio
An impressive start to a fledgling career in modeling, but that’s where it ended. Yes, that’s me on the cover of “El Hogar,” enjoying a banana under the Argentine sun.
I was born in Buenos Aires into a family immersed in photography (cover photo by my aunt Annemarie Heinrich). Grandparents Walter and Erna (Weber) Heinrich emigrated to Argentina from Germany after WWI. Walter was a photo hobbyist who out of necessity turned photography into a business (a war injury put the kibosh on his earlier career as a classical violinist). Their daughter Annemarie, through her extraordinary eye and stubborn strength of character, became a central figure in the field of photography in South America from the 1930s thru the 1980s. Much of that success was shared early on with her little sister, my mom Ursula, who was along for the ride. Eventually, Annemarie’s son and daughter Ricardo and Alicia Sanguinetti would join the family business (they’re currently engaged in cataloging and preserving Annemarie’s massive archive). They were immersed in a world of dancers, writers, painters, sculptors, actors, theater & film directors, and many more photographers. It was a cultural orgy, and it would have been wonderful to grow up in that environment, except that not long after the photo of me & banana was taken, the U.S. Navy transferred my American-born dad up to the Naval Air Station in Lakehurst, New Jersey. The full immersion in the arts and an early start at a second language were placed on hold, though mom did her best to keep the fire burning.
Skipping the part about life along the south shore of Boston, to where my dad was transferred yet again, fast forward to a short stint at Rochester Institute of Technology where I pursued a degree in photography; it was a very cold place, but I acquired a great appreciation for the craft. After I thought I knew everything, I made a trip back to Argentina. For the next two years I got my comeuppance in some old-school photographic training, such as in retouching not just analog B&W prints, but film negatives. Kodak supplies were scarce and very expensive, so the darkroom chemicals had to be mixed from scratch. I got partway to 10,000 hours in the darkroom, sometimes making hundreds of multiple prints per day, and honed my Spanish language skills along the way.
After returning stateside from Buenos Aires, I worked in a badly ventilated color lab in Boston and assisted a dozen or so brilliant photographers. In 1979 I was back in Jersey, this time just twelve miles west of New York City where I continued free-lance assisting photographers. By the time I started raising a family and acquired some of my own commercial clients, I had assisted well over 100 photographers. I loved assisting, relished in the collaboration, making her or him look like the smartest person in the room. I learned something from all of them, and put those skills to use in my Hoboken and Montclair studios, as well as on location, for the next few decades.
Video got into the mix. After a three-decade break from higher education, I enrolled in the filmmaking program at Montclair State University to add that craft to my toolbox. Curiosity about what makes people make art fueled the making of an award-winning short film “Breaking Boundaries: The Art of Alex Masket.” Yes, Alex is still at it.
My love of music, especially jazz, led to two more short films. “DMo CBB, A Sonic Party” is a brief intro to Diane Moser’s Composer’s Big Band in its 14th year, a band mostly made up of composers, all dedicated to creating new music for a jazz big band. The film couldn’t have been made without the extraordinary help of Susan Brink, the producer on the project. Sadly, pianist, composer, bandleader, teacher, and dear friend Diane Moser died in December 2020. It’s been a huge loss for the jazz community and everyone that knew her.
Diane Moser’s long interest in birdsongs resulted in a recording session with her trio (Diane on piano, Ken Filiano on bass, and Anton Denner on flute) who accompanied her 10-minute compilation of environmental sounds that she recorded in waterbird habitats in New Jersey. Starting in 2018, we began a collaboration to make a film based on that music that led to “Come Walk and Listen”. The resulting music is extraordinary, a must listen. The video is a work in progress.
Those early childhood brushes with artists, reinforced by my mom with books on art, trips to the Museum of Fine Arts Boston, and watching Golden Age Hollywood movies, compelled me to pursue personal creative projects from time to time. At long last, it’s a full-time pursuit. Thanks, mom!