When I was young fashion photographer I used to enjoy it a lot (well, mostly, but greatly dependent on client), and I also enjoyed portraits. The two disciplines were kept apart, in my mind, as being different animals.
The funny thing about doing a longish stint of heads was that I realised that one could actually become a little bit body-blind, especially if not working with someone one knew quite well. As a result, the temptation was to shoot the two things rather apart, timewise, even during the same assignment, and not because of lens changes - just for the comfort of the inside of one's head. It was best getting the full-lengths over first. That was how it was most of my working life. Starting with head shots tended to enclose me in a safety zone from where the longer I shot the face, the less inclined I was to desire moving to the distractions and complications of body.
Recently, I have been attracted very much to the idea of doing portraits again, but can't find anyone that I really want to shoot (difficult, and more so every day) who wants to be shot, if you see what I mean. So nothing happens. Which of course, saves a lot of bother, one way or the other. One could consider this as being a little bit of a negative deus ex machina, if you will, something that saves me from the typist's chair and the monitor.
Anyway, it occurred to me the other day that for years I had been labouring under a delusion and a certain confusion of words: full-lengths, heads, portraits, when it comes down to it, it's all exactly the same thing - it's actually all a portrait of me, the shooter. I see proof of that in the body of work of each of my three most loved photographers, Sarah Moon, Hans Feurer and Saul Leiter - in no special order of merit. Each is making the same shot over and over again - probably as does anybody who has truly found himself. (I think that threesome has become a four: Peter Lindbergh has not only joined that elite group of beloveds, but also shows the same uncaring and undisguised repetition of story and obsession.)
And it doesn't stop at people. Pretty much everything at which I point a camera ends up being but a reflection of part of me, felt inside by me, accepted or rejected by myself.
I think it's safe to extrapolate here: everything any of us does is a bloody great selfie!