At first it just looks like a man seated in an empty theater. And, it is...but he’s lost dozens of friends: philosopher-athletes undertaking what few in the history of humanity have, and many who did, didn't survive. How do you shoot someone who not just climbed Everest, but is the first American to ski down it? Respectfully, not reverentially, and make visual metaphors of whatever's available. Through loss and triumph he carries a measured light-heartedness and gravitas, stemming from existential self-challenge on an order of magnitude that defy the reckonings of mortal contemplation. So, you convey the poise of isolation, and also the ordinary lives that look upon such endeavors with awe — for a minute, before resuming workaday life, forgetfulness of being...You shoot him in isolation, at a distance — because he’s not someone easily known, maybe not even to himself — above rows of identical items, tidily bolted down in exact proximity to each other, comprising legions of uniformity, indifference...a permanent line separates this person from the multitudes. Behind him there’s a grey-white unknown tabula rasa of possibility, uncertainty, akin to a vista he knows well. You force the metaphors, keep the empty chairs from the previous interview, rote questions...you think of the persons once at his side, disappearing, leaving behind perplexed loved ones...tragedy is part of the dharma of this brotherhood, sisterhood. You have literally (not figuratively; literally) 3 minutes to take this photo; half is used walking the room. You forget to check camera settings as you make eye-contact with your subject, before you get lost in the viewfinder, wordlessly letting him know that though you’re incapable of estimating his life-calculus, he's here now, and he isn't a "shot" nor a "great get"; he's a rare species of being — and you do so without sycophancy. You manifest your own own solitude, hope it resonates enough for him to relax, before returning to the madness of the other room, where hors d'oeuvres, champagne and the (relative to mountain climbing) absurd comforts of a Manhattan hotel await. Congrats on adding seven Emmys to your Oscar, Team Free Solo.