A woman entered my studio recently, looked at the photography hanging on the walls, watched the video playing on the TV set on a table and thumbed through a book of clippings of my newspaper columns, then turned and asked a question:
“Just what is it,” she asked, “that you do?”
Hadn’t given such a question much thought. Never been one to dwell on the why I do something. I just do it. Always thought it self-explanatory.
“I’m confused,” the woman went on. “Are you a photographer, a writer or a filmmaker?”