Tag Archives: photography

Maybe you should try decluttering your house before listing it for sale

man in office talking on phone

Perhaps not so surprisingly, my career as a real-estate photographer was short-lived.

Years ago, I worked in a small real-estate office. One of the agents got a new listing, so she asked me to drop in and take photos.

As I dropped in, my jaw dropped. Random junk sat atop every conceivable surface. It looked as if a tornado had struck a knickknack shop.

There were dog toys on the couch, antique dishes on the coffee table, torn-open mail on the kitchen counter. If House Hunters and Hoarders got drunk and made a baby, this house would be it.

I would have wiped my feet on the mat, but I didn’t want to dirty my shoes.

However, I was there to take photos, so take photos I did. Being the professional I am, I used creative angles to portray the garbage as artistically as possible. Natural sunlight flowed through the open curtains, adding a heavenly glow to the pristine piles of rubbish.

We posted the photos and listed the home. A few days later, the homeowner called.

“Can you tell me who took the photos of my house?” he asked.

I told him that the creative genius in question was me.

“OK,” he said, “then riddle me this: Would it have occurred to you not to take photos of all the clutter?”

Now here’s my problem: I have a smart-aleck switch. When it’s switched on, I start spewing a stream of passive-aggressive prattle that can’t be stopped. Once I get going, I’m not able to turn the switch off, even if I try. I just have to keep going until I run out of steam.

It’s sort of like Planes Trains and Automobiles, when Steve Martin accuses John Candy of being a Chatty Cathy doll who pulls his own string — except the reverse. I have a switch over which I have no control. Only other people can flick it on for me.

And this homeowner, unfortunately, had succeeded in flicking my switch.

“Well,” I said, “riddle me this: Would it have occurred to you to clean your house when you know full well a photographer’s coming?”

Silence.

“You see,” I continued, “a photographer’s palette is the whimsical world he frames with his lens. While a painter suggests reality with brushstrokes and splatters, a photographer captures the essence of a moment and coaxes it to its fullest expression. The environment in which he composes his masterpieces sets the mood for the photos that emerge. So when he finds himself in a repulsive midst of messiness and disarray, his thoughts, emotions, and photos reflect the untidy shambles of his surroundings. What develops – quite literally – are photographic representations of the egregious eyesore, complete with all the filth and clutter that litter the landscape.”

“Are you finished?” the man asked.

“Not quite,” I said. “The horrific conditions of your abysmal abode not only undermined my artistic endeavors, but they endangered my life, as well. When I stepped backward to frame a shot of the dining room, I tripped on what I assume was a poodle — or maybe an overgrown rat. Either way, it wasn’t moving, so I imagine it had sucked its last breath as it desperately clawed through the clutter, seeking the freedom it could never find in the midst of the suffocating chaos.”

A heavy sigh came from the phone. “Is that all?”

“Your trashcan was also overflowing and left sitting in the middle of the kitchen,” I added. “I would have moved it, but I couldn’t swat my way through the thick swarm of flies. They pushed me backward and pinned me to the wall. I’m sure I could have taken them individually, but as a team, they proved to be an unstoppable force.”

“OK — I believe you’ve made your point,” the man said. “Are we done now?”

“I think so,” I said. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“Good. If I clean up the clutter, could you come back to retake the photos?”

“Of course,” I said. “I live for my art. I exist to achieve excellence. I cherish the creative satisfaction that comes from replicating the beauty of nature. Why, my camera –”

The phone clicked in my ear.

“Hmm.” I hung up the phone. “Well, not everyone appreciates my creative genius.”

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Nevada sunset

the sun setting over dark mountainsNothing punctuates a scorching desert day like a pristine Nevada sunset.

As the sun descends behind the distant mountains, the sky turns brilliant shades of orange, scarlet and violet. Rays of sun stream across the landscape like spidery, caressing fingers. Windswept clouds glow with radiant, almost heavenly hues. Like a fire, the collage of colors burns brightly, as if searing a brand into the sprawling canvas of the twilight sky.

This final burst of brilliance is like the last gasp of air from a dying day – a residual surge of luminescence before dusk devolves to darkness.

And just as quickly as it came, the sunset begins to fade, much like the dying embers of a once-blazing campfire. The rich, vivid hues smolder away to smoky blackness.

The gentle dissolving of day into night is much like the perpetual momentum of breathing: a constant, natural pattern deeply engrained in the fabric of existence.

There’s nothing quite so majestic as a Nevada sunset. They’re in bloom for only a few, fleeting moments before they dissipate into darkness, unveiling the stars.

Killdeer Eggs

Almost impossible to see, as they blend right into the surrounding gravel.

"OK, follow me," says the Killdeer, leading me away from the nest. "This way, over here. Nothing to see there. This is where the action's at -- trust me."

“OK, follow me,” says the Killdeer, leading me away from the nest. “This way, over here. Nothing to see there. This is where the action’s at — trust me.”

"These humans are so stupid, they always fall for this trick," thinks the Killdeer, with a sinister gleam in her beady eye.

“These humans are so stupid, they always fall for this trick,” thinks the Killdeer with a sinister gleam in her beady eye, luring me farther and farther away from the nest.

More about the Killdeer here.