This From the Persona Warehouse
Originally, I asked whether I should use this photo for the back cover of my new book, Tulum, soon available as a download and a physical volume wherever classy literary fiction is sold. But I'm getting distracted. It was made with Photobooth, an application the Mac People designed and put in all of their creations, to promote vanity an/or horsing around or recording criminal activity or something. It seems an odd addition to a desktop like mine. Though, as you can see, it does have its uses. And it is immediate.
My fashion consultant, who prefers to remain both nameless and genderless, points out the following: the hoodie is good, but the color should be black. Not to match the hat. No. Black is the only color scribblers like you should wear. And lose that yellow ring on the t-shirt. Well, it's not a t-shirt. I know, I know. You love your Boca Juniors jersey, but lose the yellow and the blue. Lose them both. You need a black hoodie and a black t-shirt. Only that will do. And you have to lose the background. Why? Because we don't want a background. We want empty space in a pleasing color. Black? No. The clothing is supposed to be black, the background can be white. Or beige. Something neutral. And that will remove the tchatchkas. Those are not tchatchkas, they are things I treasure, things I have on my shelves in back of this computer. Good. You can keep on treasuring them as much as you want, and keep them wherever you want them, but they're out of this picture. They are gone. They are the detritus of photoshop.
You could go on and on with this. In fact, it did go on and on. About things like, you're not shaved in this photo are you? Well, no. It' Sunday, right, and I didn't want to shave if I don't have to. I know. But, well there is no date on the back of this book, is there, so people who look at this don't know whether it's Sunday or not, and you have to decide whether this kind of scruffiness should be there. Do you like it? What do you think it might mean to someone who looks at it? Is it about art? Or is it posturing? Or sloppiness? And on and on and on.
There are actually people who do this for a living. They're professionals. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. There are actually people, many of them, whose work is to deal with the many, many bits of minutiae in each still frame. They are exacting. And precise. And they know what they're talking about, I assume. If today's test run is any indication, they have a dangerous job. They have a very high risk of being victims of homicides or if they're lucky, aggravated assaults and shootings.
I am remembering why my first book didn't have my photo on it.