“That’s the fish market.” Our driver points to an empty concrete lot as we drive past.

I immediately perk up.

Shooting for Wok the Dog is technically complete. After shooting markets around the world for 17 years, one would think I would never want to see another pile of dead fish or table full of fresh carcass again. The Hasselblad was left at home in my conviction.

Except the man uttered the words, f i s h m a r k e t, and I intently wished for my Hasselblad and the super wide 40mm lens.

The next morning, I packed the Nikon and about to head out for the market when I saw the Fuji GF670 and though, well, maybe, maybe I should run a roll of film through it. I load the camera. I seal up the ziplock bag of film about to put it away only to open it again, take out another roll and put it in my pocket. Zip. Half way out of the door. Open the ziplock bag. Put another roll in my pocket.

Wok the Dog has anchored much of my travels. It gave the wanderlust a sense of purpose and refined my sense of identity. Who am I now? What is the purpose of this current stint of traveling? Who am I if I am not here to photograph the markets? I have an inkling of what the next big project will be, but it still only exist in the ethers and until it takes on concrete forms, I am an artist without a project, a woman without a country.

What do you do in-between projects?

Best guess, you show up and wait for the muse. You experiment. You play. The lesson….its a risky business to tie your identity to your work. Who are you when it is all done?!