A Kurt Vonnegut passage that is about telling his wife he’s going out to buy an envelope:
Tim Ferriss Five Bullet Friday
“She says, ‘Well, you’re not a poor man. You know, why don’t you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet?’ And so I pretend not to hear her and go out to get an envelope, because I’m going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope. I meet a lot of people and see some great-looking babes. And a fire engine goes by, and I give them the thumbs up and ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And… and I don’t know. The moral of the story is, we’re here on Earth to fart around. And don’t let anybody tell you any different. And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. What the computer people don’t realize, or they don’t care, is we’re dancing animals.”
Obituaries FAQ
“Why do I need a professional photo?” Here’s one possible answer.
One would think that with all the cameras in the world, and in spite of all the farting around folks could manage to leave a decent photo behind to remember them by. Then I refer them to the obituaries page. Below is a sample offered, with all due respect for the deceased and their loved ones, to make my point.
Speaking as a professional hoping my reading audience doesn’t view this as being critical, I’ll comment on the lighting. The gentleman on the left is standing under an incandescent ceiling light that’s burning a hole in his forehead and casting a nasty shadow down his face. The gentleman in the middle has the same problem, only it’s the sun. And the Lady’s face on the right is under exposed because the camera (phone?) is exposing for the white shirt.
A Decent Obituary Photo
Now that I’ve critiqued the photos above, I’d like to offer what I’d consider a good photo for an obituary. As you can see, your eye is drawn to my face.
Mike Winslow
June 23, 1954 – TBD
Mike Winslow, age [redacted for vanity], passed peacefully at his home studio in St. Charles, Missouri, presumably mid-sentence while explaining why the light was better ten minutes ago. Born with a camera-shaped hole in his heart, Mike spent his early years as a brakeman for Union Pacific out of Cheyenne, Wyoming — a job he took seriously right up until he realized trains looked better through a viewfinder than from a caboose. He would go on to photograph Union Pacific’s Big Boy 4014 no fewer than three times, an achievement he brought up unprompted at holidays, weddings, and, it is assumed, his own deathbed.
Mike leaves behind a modest fortune in Silver Eagles, a watch collection nobody was allowed to touch, and a body of photographic work that made a great many people look far more confident than they actually feel. He was, by his own admission, entirely too particular about neutral colors and terrible about turning down a good pun. As Kurt Vonnegut once put it, we’re here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different — and Mike, by all accounts, farted around exceptionally well, one perfectly lit headshot at a time.
Wrapping up my obituary rant
That’s it for today. I haven’t died yet, but the chances are 100% I will. With that in mind, I do my best to live by Willie Nelson’s 3 main household family rules (you’ll have to google it yourself), and leave as many well lit portraits suitable for the obituaries page as this life allows.
I’m still doing human work that matters for people who care. More info here.
Thanks for dropping by,
Mike
Ps. I’d love to hear your comments