When Julius Shulman died on July 15, the architecture community lost a beloved contributor. As one of the most accomplished architectural photographers of the 20th century, Shulman skillfully conveyed the humanity and beauty of modern design. And he served as a model of graceful aging, continuing to produce stunning photographs into his late 90s.

Over the past couple of weeks, ra has spoken with friends, colleagues, and admirers of Shulman's. Read on for compelling—and unexpected—excerpts from these conversations.

Juergen Nogai, photographer and business partner

"For nearly 99 years—it was [roughly] two months before his 99th birthday—it was incredible how active he was. He had so many projects in his mind. All about architecture, all about education—he wanted to educate. He was so involved. He said, 'Juergen, talk to young people. Teach them about the importance of architecture and photography.' He saw the camera as a weapon with which he could fight things he didn't really like. And also as a powerful tool to educate. ...

He did an incredible number of photos documenting how Los Angeles has changed. When The New York Times or Los Angeles Times is doing something [on Shulman], it's always Case Study House No. 22, or the Kaufmann House. [But] what was for him an important photo was an image of City Hall with a puddle of water out front, and in the water you see a construction site reflected. They're not these iconic photos he did—they're much more silent—but I would say they're just as good. ... What I learned from him was the way he was thinking about architecture. He always wanted to tell the story of the house without having a floor plan. One photo leads you into another. Step by step you're walking though a house. ... It was worth the fights we had sometimes! I would put the friendship first and then our work relationship. We mostly disagreed on work situations. Our arguments were about matters of inches. ...

If the body could have made it to 120, he would have—his mind and brain were so open. There was not one moment where he was bored. Everything was exciting—everything. When I went to pick him up for an assignment, he would be reading the newspaper. We were always talking about social problems, politics. You can see how he tried to show how people are living—he tried to show the connection of architecture and life. He was an environmentalist. He was involved in the National Audubon Society and nature preserves. He gave a big part of his land to the Santa Monica Conservancy. He was a very, very engaged, environmental-thinking person. A lot of people don't know that. They see the pictures, but the person behind these photos—a very unusual person—that is really what we have lost. ...

He was very grounded. Anyone could talk to him. Julius didn't really realize what he did, until [gallery owner] Craig Krull came to him and wanted to do a show. [Shulman] didn't know the value of his photos at that time. In that way, he didn't come with an attitude. His attitude was, 'I want to make great architectural photos and talk to people about it, and be around architects and architecture. I want to make the world more beautiful.'

Julius was always in these kinds of collaborations. Schindler taught him about lighting. These architects were in some ways teaching him how to make his photos better. He always said, 'Never stop learning. If you stop learning, you are dead.' We hear that a lot, but when you hear it from him, you know it really means something."

Eric Bricker, director of Visual Acoustics, a documentary film about Julius Shulman coming to theaters this fall

"Ultimately the film is about the spirit of this guy who's lived this incredible life, a life filled with curiosity and creativity. ... I was working as an art consultant in L.A. and by chance met his neighbor. I needed some 1930s photos of San Francisco. At my first meeting with him, he was on the phone when I got there. (The phone was attached to him at all times!) Julius' studio is Disneyland for adults. There are books and letters and magazines everywhere. I was blown away by it and was equally blown away by him. 'Uncle Julius,' as he refers to himself, was able to connect with people on a lot of different levels. We developed a friendship. I had the idea for the film in 2001 and presented it to him. His response was, 'I don't see why not.' I wanted to see the photos on the big screen. ...

He doesn't like to refer to photographing as 'shooting.' He'd say, 'I don't shoot. I'm not a hunter!' ...

What was amazing about Julius was that he was constantly reminding himself of the next date, whether it was a photography assignment or a lecture at a high school or a meeting with an architect—and yet he's one of the very few people able to completely live in the moment as much as possible. He might see a bird outside and talk about what kind of bird it was, what their mating call is. I always called him 'the eternal boy scout.' ...

Neither Julius nor Judy [McKee, Shulman's daughter] asked me once when the movie would be finished. It took awhile. Never once did they put pressure on me to finish it. ...

I'm now living in Austin, in the Hill Country. It's beautiful. I'm reminded of Julius on a daily basis. The clouds here are really cottony and fluffy and hang really low in the sky. When I notice how beautiful they are, that's him, that's his kernel. Now I take delight in my natural environment—I got that from him."

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Paul Warchol, architectural photographer

"I was simultaneously inspired by Ezra Stoller and Julius—they had different inflections. Every time I photograph a house with a pool and lounge chairs, I think of the Kaufmann House. If those chairs were off, the whole picture would fall apart. Kaufmann is an iconic image to me. The height of the chairs—and realizing that the angle of the back of them is very important—are vital to that photograph."

Steven Ehrlich, FAIA, RIBA, principal, Ehrlich Architects

"I have had a long and personal relationship with Julius, which has been very rewarding for me. ...

I designed and built my first freestanding structure in L.A. in 1981—the Kalfus Studio, a small photography and art studio adjacent to a the Richard Neutra Loring Residence. When it was done, I felt Julius should photograph it. I was in my early 30s—he must have been about 70. He saw the project and said, 'I want to shoot it.' I said great. He asked me to be his assistant, which I obediently agreed to, and we photographed the project. On the second day [of the shoot] he said, 'Now take off your clothes.' I said, 'Uh ... , ' to which he replied, 'I need a model.' He wanted it to be as if a model were posing nude for a photographer in the studio. Those particular photos were never published (thankfully). They're in the Getty archive now! Julius really promoted architects he believed in, and before I knew it, that project was on the cover of The New York Times' Home section, in the AIA Journal and GA Houses. It was sort of splashed around everywhere. It really launched my career. ...

In 1998 we did a major addition to a Neutra house on the beach. [Shulman] was already in his late 80s and—this is my opinion—had kind of retired. He had photographed the original 1938 house back in the day, and wanted to shoot the addition as well. This is unsubstantiated, but I like to take the credit that I brought Julius out of retirement with that shoot. ...

He also shot my house (with Juergen Nogai) in Venice, Calif. I felt it was important that he shoot it. 'Uncle Julius' has always been a dear friend. In the global picture, if he believed in an architect's work, he would really be a champion of it. He had such a long career—some of his classic photos just became iconic symbols and images all of us know and are ingrained with. Let's take Case Study House No. 22. In the daytime, it's not the same photo. It's embracing a moment in time and an ethos—the endless possibilities of what architecture can be. I cherished his mentorship and friendship. He was a good man."

Sylvia Lavin, professor of architectural history and theory, UCLA

"I think it's interesting that there's a little bit of competitiveness between architects and their photographers, in terms of who was more important. Most architects kind of go on one side or the other. Shulman was interested in both. On the rare occasions when he combined them—those are the ones that have become iconic; Koenig [Case Study House No. 22], for example. The cantilever looks more exaggerated than it is, and the girls look like they're wearing fancier dresses than they are. With the Kaufmann House, it was the same kind of thing. It's a highly abstract view, but Mrs. Kaufmann is there lounging by the pool. She's halfway between an object and a human being. There really wasn't anybody else at that time who understood how to do that. ...

The photos are all like stills from movies. They make the viewer imagine the movie they're not seeing. ...

Architecture is a frame for the things that happen in it. [Shulman] was very good at rendering the frame. There's a photo of a house—the Singleton House by Neutra—where it takes about 25 minutes to figure out where [Shulman] stood—it's a highly abstract view of the architecture that no one would ever see. It's making the architecture an even more extreme version of its architectural self. But he was also interested in other photos that showed what the frame made possible—the life in the house—the artfully placed shoes."

Dion Neutra, AIA

"Shulman learned a lot from my dad [Richard Neutra], no question about it. They were friends—not social friends, more of a business relationship. There was a moment when my dad was really upset, when Shulman hired Soriano to design his house. But they continued to work together long after that. ...

I like his way of using people in his pictures. The photo [of Case Study House No. 22] with the two women is incredible. And using Mrs. Kaufmann to block the pool light [at the photo shoot for the Kaufmann House]—that became an iconic shot. That story is in Thomas Hines' book about my dad. ...

My dad and mother sent photos to various editors, but I'd say Shulman also played a part, in that he became very good at ringing doorbells and making phone contact with magazines."

Norman Millar, dean, Woodbury University School of Architecture

"The Julius Shulman Institute at Woodbury University came about as a result of a friendship between Julius Shulman and Woodbury. He was one of the most important 'friends of Woodbury.' When he sold his collection of prints to the Getty, he turned around and donated $1 million to Woodbury. He spent a lot of time here with us. We're certainly the newest program here in Southern California, and he saw us as a 'new light.' We've been coming into our own, and Julius has been here along the way. He has watched the school grow and helped it grow. His generous donation initiated a capital campaign to help us build new studio space here in L.A. and in San Diego. It also funds special events and initiatives. ...

The Shulman Institute focuses on a legacy of enduring modernism—affordability, social responsibility, the client relationship, and all aspects of [modern] design—its history, theory, and practice. Julius Shulman is one of the most important figures in the modern world in terms of embracing contemporary architecture in the 1950s and '60s. He often talked about the Case Study project as being a failure on a certain level, because it was supposed to be affordable. [The Case Study houses] ended up being clean, elegant, modern [and so on], but not so affordable. So we decided the Shulman Institute should really look at the issue of affordable and experimental housing. ...

I remember [Shulman] talking about meeting Richard Neutra for the first time, and then it all just went from there. I just think it's really remarkable to go to his house, which was once a barren landscape. To see this incredible garden with huge oak trees—he was in his element there."

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Craig Krull, founder and owner, Craig Krull Gallery

"Julius basically retired from his long and successful career in 1989. I was opening my first gallery in 1991, and we met between those two dates. I was curating my first exhibition at the inaugural show at my gallery of photographers who had a unique take on the L.A. landscape. Julius came from a different perspective, one of commercial architectural photographer. But he was an integral part of the exhibition. ...

Our representation of him, which began at the time, started with a re-contextualization of his work, a shift. He had never thought of himself as an artist. He thought we were an art gallery and we'd want his photos of Hawaii landscapes and sunsets and other pretty photos—his "artsy" pictures, according to him. But I had to convince him I was interested in his architectural work. Once we began showing his work in the gallery he began getting reviews by the art critics, [and] they were all taking a different perspective on his work that had not been taken before. It was a very important conceptual shift in thinking about Julius' work. ...

Around 2000 [Shulman] met Juergen Nogai. Juergen had a very good practice in Europe. He was here working on a book of Case Study House photos, and an acquaintance told him he had to meet Julius. And they drove up to meet him. They hit it off and had a lovely afternoon, and a week or two later Julius called Juergen and said they needed to work together, so definitely something sparked between them. He had received many requests to come out of retirement. For the past nine years, they worked together. Some have suggested that Juergen was responsible for extending Julius' life, in terms of activity and travel. Julius thrived on it. ...

When I first met Julius, he and his second wife, Olga, were showing me pictures of Hawaii and talking like normal retired people about their plans to go back to Hawaii and maybe buy a condo in Florida. I almost felt a little guilty, because I think I spoiled Olga's retirement years; she and Julius never went back to Hawaii or Florida. But I think he loved it, and I think he wouldn't have been able to really retire. He was active. He always had a spark, a twinkle in his eye; he was very curious and interested in everything. ...

In my opinion, Julius was the most important architectural photographer in history, partly because he elevated what I've described as a commercial photographic genre to a fine art form. The way he constructed the view of his photos was very much like the work of contemporary photographers who don't take a photo, they make a photo. He constructed images, and they were very composed, well-articulated, and thought-out. Not only that, but he didn't merely document the architecture—he interpreted the architecture. The work of Gregory Ain, Eames, Koenig, Lautner [and so on are] known throughout the world through Julius' eyes. Ninety-nine percent of the people who know these works of architecture have never been to see them in person. All our interpretation of these works was through Julius' mind. ...

One of the main tenets of modernism is a belief in the future, in progress, in technology and the use of new materials. This kind of optimism was something Julius was perfectly suited to translate because he was the most optimistic person I knew or have ever known. It was a perfect marriage. ...

He's very well-known for putting people in photos of architecture, which humanized it and softened some of that hard edge of modernism and invited you to be part of the dream. ...

I learned a lot about architecture from Julius, but the real lessons I'll carry are the life lessons. As a young businessman racing around L.A. and driving up to his home, the minute I got there I'd feel a sense of peace take over, and I'd slow down. Because even though he was very energetic and full of ideas and conversation, his demeanor would always ground me and bring us back, and we'd walk amongst his redwood trees. I'd feel a sense of peace and calm. He always saw the bright side of everything. I'd complain about the traffic or finances and he'd say, 'You're a young man, relax.' You felt a sense that everything was going to be OK."

Wim de Wit, head of architecture and design at the Getty Research Institute Research Library

"[Shulman] really understood Southern Californian light: where the sun would be and when, so you could get the perfect shadow in the picture with the right surface covered in light. He did that very well. When it came to doing interior photos, he was very good. When you look at three photos of one room, you get a very good sense of the complete space. Each successive photo takes you further into the space. With the help of these photos you can get a feeling of the floor plan of the room or house. ...

He made modern architecture—the architecture of the post-World War II period—famous all over the world. It's extremely important, the work he's done, for our understanding and our memory of Southern California architecture. ...

But just for me to work with him, personally, has been an incredible experience. I learned a lot from him. I learned to appreciate also his sense of humor, his personality, his outspoken character, and all that. After the archive came here, Julius and I were invited to go all over the place and have conversations about his work, and I've had wonderful evenings with him. Our second exhibition, Julius Shulman's Los Angeles, which we did two years ago, will travel to Guadalajara, Mexico, [to] be part of the Guadalajara International Book Fair. It opens Nov. 28, 2009, at the Museo de las Artes."

Ray Kappe, FAIA, Kappe Architects/Planners, Pacific Palisades, Calif., and founder of SCI-Arc

"I think we all respected Julius as the primo architectural photographer in Los Angeles. He photographed many of my buildings, and it was always a very nice experience with very good results. And I think he lived a very long and eventful life, and had wonderful last years. He published almost everything he ever photographed. ...

His last years were particularly marvelous, when he got together with TASCHEN; [together] they were able to do so many books for which he supplied the photos. In reality, he was probably the most important documenter of modern architecture—in Los Angeles for sure and throughout most of the country."

For more on Julius Shulman's life and influence, see the following stories:

"Julius Shulman's photos promoted the allure of Southern California living"

"Goodbye, Julius Shulman"

"How Julius Shulman Told a House's Story"