The famous names that appear in the above paragraph are not listed for self-agrandization, but to, in part, emphasize the importance of Victor Diaz. I have, so the expression goes, been around the block a few times with other artist, such as Ernest Hemingway, Charlton Heston, Bo Derek, Candice Bergen, David Lean Peter O’Toole, Alfred Eisenstredt, Kenneth Tynan, Mary Martin, John Cocteau, and Jean Renoir. This is to say that since I left California forty-six years ago, my experience has been wide. So when I speak about Victor Diaz, I do so having known many talented people by which to measure him.

My introduction to Victor took place years ago, arranged by a friend Rick Faberes, in a meeting that was mutually fortunate, according to the definition of luck once stated to me by Michener: “When preparation meets opportunity.”

Victor’s “preparation” was not only as an obsessive collector of color photography, but also as a passionate expert in the fine art of color print-making, as well as being a nature photographer of great vision. My preparation: I was the author, at that time, of about thirty photographic books, accounting for three million volumes in print in eight languages reviewed everywhere from CNN and Good Morning America to Newsweek and The New York Times.

So it was that we seemed to not only photographically fit each other like the proverbial glove, but to experience friendship from the start. Victor’s means of expressing himself verbally reminded me of the written words of my friend Ernest Hemingway: both men’s economic use of language was always right to the point. Equally attractive in Victor was his total honesty and candidness. Although he was one of the kindest, giving, gentlemen I know, one always was aware exactly where one stood with him. More commonly put: with Victor there was no BS. And so it was that in 1996 Victor Diaz and IIPA – and equally important, his wife Martha, son Alex and daughter Jessica, came into my life to become part of my life.

IIPA would have more impact on my art than modest Victor could ever have imagined. Because of the limited editions of my work that IIPA would publish, I would sign a contract with the Chuck Jones Studio Galleries for three exhibitions, two of them in San Diego and another in Santa Fe.

On the opening night of the first San Diego show, almost one thousand people in a line two blocks long waited to enter the gallery to view my images, published by Victor and IIPA. In that line were lovers of photography, books and horses, including one-time world’s biggest box office star, Steve (Hercules) Reeves, along with one of Johnny Carson’s favorite Tonight Show guests, Joan Embery. Also on hand was the gallery’s owner, the legendary Chuck Jones, creator of Bugs Bunny, Wiley Coyote and The Roadrunner. Before the evening was finished, the images printed by Victor and IIPAA had grossed over fifty thousand dollars.

Following that show, and because of the patronage and support of IIPA, I worked long nights and weekends at IIPA’s studio on my book Remembering Africa, as well as with an image, The Whisperer’s Horse, which was based on my photograph from the cover of Nicholas Evans’ The Horse Whisperer. The sales of that book would exceed ten million copies.

Following the San Diego exhibition of Victor’s collection of my images, the same show opened in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where Robert Redford was and phoned to ask if I would be his Creative Advisor for the movie version of Nicholas Evans’ novel. When we later met, he added he wanted me to create the image for the film’s billboards, theater posters and print ads. So, the larger than life-sized horses that galloped the billboards along Hollywood freeways were partly because of Victor Diaz and IIPA.

Over the years, I have attended many dinner parties at Victor and Martha’s spacious homes, where unforgettable were the moments when I sat with a Corona in hand and enchiladas on my plate as violinist Olga Breesken played with her animated style. James A. Michener once said about the delicious dinner before us “I’ll know I’m in heaven if they serve Mexican food.”

Another special moment at Victor’s home was when I met his daughter Jessica, who had the not yet reached her teens. There was an immediate connection between us, not only because of a mutual love for horses, but because Jessica, like her mother, is also an original and accomplished artist. Victor’s friendship seemed reward enough because of our shared passion for photography. However, added luck was mine when I learned Martha shares my passion for nature, especially for the birds found in the aviaries of her seemingly never-ending gardens.

During his lifetime, Victor has also been the Renaissance-like patron to artists-apart from photographers. An example of this would be how he, in part, saved from loss a documentary motion picture based on my book Such is the Real Nature of Horses. Unfortunately, this project was held up in litigation for almost twenty years, so long that when the rights finally reverted to me, we were fearful the 116 hours of Beta Cam tape on which it had been recorded might have completely deteriorated. Fortunately, Victor, who had no real interest in the project, except for his daughter’s interest in horses and his friendship with me, stepped in and financed the digitalization of the 116 hours of material. Thanks to him, now the project is close to completion, with an introduction by William Shatner and Jane Goodall and with music by noted film composer Basil Poledorius.

It should be added here that Victor’s own love of music is the grand fortune of all of us classical music lovers. Why? Because he created a non-profit, FM, twenty-four-hour-a-day classical music station in San Diego XLNC1, where the only other radio music is, hip hop, country western, popular, jazz and rap.

Victor, as I have said was also an accomplishment nature photographer. For years, I tried to convince him to publish his intriguing series of images of La Jolla’s Bird Rock in all the moods and moments that had been captured by his camera. But he was too occupied promoting the work of other photographers through IIPA. At the IIPA studio, important work has also been done on my books Stallions of the Quest, An Eye for Beauty, Cardenas: Horses and Home and Remembering Africa.

Thus, Victor Diaz, to me, does not only signifies the founder of IIPA, but when I reflect on him, I also see Martha, Alex and Jessica, as well.

When I am off in Kenya or Tanzania, Zimbabwe or Botswana and I hear the descending coooo of an emerald-spotted wood dove, I think of the pair of those same singing doves I gave Martha for her garden, which somehow, hopefully, makes me a part of the Diaz household. And while the twists of campfire smoke glide upward toward the Kenyan sky, as they did one August and Mars displayed itself so brilliantly, I think of Victor Diaz, one of the brightest, most articulate, dedicated, generous, honest men that it has been my good fortune to know. Accompanying those thoughts is a kaleidoscope of the hundreds of color photographs that line Victor’s extensive gallery walls. Among those images are those of Ernest Haas, John Domonious, John Derek and my own. But most important is the good fortune of future generations and all photographers who have focused their cameras on our rapidly disappearing natural world: to have Victor Diaz and IIPA preserve in the most brilliant, lasting color, the finest of archival images that one day may be the only record we have of what were once some of nature’s most stunning creations.


Robert Vavra