I walked into the Georgia O’Keeffe museum last Wednesday to start work and was greeted by ‘shhhh!’ from the guard at the door. Annie Leibovitz was being interviewed in the video gallery for Radio Cafe by Mary-Charlotte. Meanwhile, the lobby filled up slowly with local press, all silently waiting. Around 9:30am, Annie appeared and stood by the entrance to gallery 1. She was no more noticeable than the director of the museum, the curator, and the fifty or so reporters gathered to hear her words. I was by then at the front desk, witnessing the adoration of a celebrity. Santa Fe had been abuzz with her arrival, with the touring exhibit of her book, Pilgrimage. She was at the O’Keeffe museum because she took photographs of Georgia O’Keeffe’s casita abode in Abiquiu. The director spoke, very simply and eloquently; the curator spoke, also very eloquently. Annie, looking almost non-descript, wearing a black shirt, took up the refrain without noticeable transition from patron to artist. She clearly loved New Mexico, the landscape, her visit to O’Keeffe’s home–where O’Keeffe painted, almost blind, until her death at 98. Annie moved me to tears, just as she said she’d been moved to tears. She meant to play down her celebrity; she was in a place she considered beyond the reach of stardom or pretension. She was sweet, unassuming, humble. Hard to imagine she had photographed the Queen of my country, tiara, robes and all that goes with them.