Your name isn’t really Wolf is it.
Oh but yes it is.
I want black&white and colour shots.
And so you shall. I shoot in colour, and create a b/w version of it later. I automatically supply you with both.
Daylight or studio lights? Inside or outside?
I light you inside with a set-up that is modelled on being outside, because I really like the soft light you get in a street. I’ve got this set-up specifically so I don’t miss out if I can’t go outside. If it’s raining we stay inside. When you book me, you book inside shots, with the option of going outside if the weather plays ball (unless you prefer to stay inside anyway).
If your name really is Wolf, are you scary?
No, I’m lovely.
Hello. Another photographer is willing to see me sooner and for considerably less on account of my relatively high profile.
Quick, go to the other guy, and all three of us win.
Hello may I ask what is this headshot. Can I make the pout?
It’s not a make-over shoot. And it’s not an assisted selfie. So the less you make the pout, the better. But what you do with your face is ultimately under your control.
Great so you cannot stop me haha and I can make the smize?
You smize at your own peril.
I can’t afford it.
Steal it. But steal it from people who can’t fight back—ideally old people, but children will do. The problem with kids is, they remember and grow up, and learn karate, and then one day they’ll have a sepia-toned flashback, with music by Hans Zimmer… and you’ll find yourself in terrible trouble. The advantage with old people is that half the time they don’t even remember their own names. And anyway, who cares whether your grandmother cannot pay the heating bill? This is your career we’re talking about! Great headshots mean you’ll definitely become famous. What’s better than being famous? That’s what got you into this whole thing, right? People will line the streets to throw rose petals in your path and stroke your ear lobes with lotus blossoms. Mind you, then you can make a televised visit to your grandmother’s council flat, apologise for raiding her cookie jar, wrap her in a fleece blanket, give her a Toblerone, and together, you can watch that episode of Game of Thrones where you appear for three seconds before you get eaten by a dragon.
Is there a student discount?
Everyone pays the same price.
Would it be OK if I emailed you and said ‘I know this is cheeky, and I know you don’t do a discount, but would you give me a discount? Don’t ask don’t get and all that?’
Of course it is OK. Email me anything you like, cheeky or not. But the answer is no, because I am real mean.
Why do you not include prints with your package?
Does anyone anymore? These days, the question is really: ‘Why don’t you include an iPad with your package?’ And there’s your answer. Hardly anybody wants prints these days. You receive high-resolution images from me so, so if you do want prints, you can get them done anywhere you like.
Can you recommend a lab for prints?
Visualeyes do excellent quality prints.
How long will the session take?
Anything up to three hours. That means we have time, but you can be out in an hour if you wish.
May I bring my mother/ my body-guard?
We work alone, but I am very happy for them to deliver you to my door and take a good look at me to make sure I had breakfast. Then they have to go and sit in a café and read Horse and Hound. Meanwhile, you and I can focus on the session without distractions. This is entirely in your interest. Even your best friend, with the best intentions will diffuse your focus.
But I’m under 18, my mum has to come with me.
I am really sorry, but then your mum has to go with you to another photographer. Strictly no one under the age of 18.
Real photographers have testimonials on their website.
I am not a real photographer. If you want a testimonial, check my gallery, look for someone you know and ask them.
Do you howl at the moon?
The moon howls at me.
I hate being photographed
Yes, yes, I know. Think you’re special, eh? I hate it too. And pretty much everyone who comes to my studio. That wasn’t the deal, was it! You became an actor so you can be other people… but then, every year or so, you have to go to some guy with a stupid name and be yourself. Well, here’s a secret: It’s OK to be nervous. You also get nerves before you go on stage. It’s OK. It’s an energy. It frizzles away into the edges of the cosmos, where it rattles the bars of the pan-galactic cage with white-knuckled hands.
You got me a little worried now. All this nervous actor energy frizzling away… isn’t there a danger it will wear out the edges of the cosmos and break the cage? Should I change career?
No! You must keep going. We’ve got to get out of this cage, and you are our only hope.
I suddenly just want to go to Spain and grow vegetables.
That is why it must be you!
So you don’t have testimonials. OK. But you also don’t state that you’re a “professional” photographer with “years of experience”, and you don’t actually promise to capture “the real me”.
Do you talk in your sleep?
All the time, it’s terrible!
My friend told me there’s a piano in your studio. Is it yours?
So do you play the piano?
But do you like playing the piano?
What makes you think that? Of course I hate it! My god how I hate that dastardly wooden thing with strings inside, and keys, and if you press them, they make sounds. I try not to play it at all; but when through some accident (if for example I slip on a snake) I fall onto the piano stool, I hit the ghastly piano thing as hard as possible with as many fingers as I can find.
You’ve lost me now. Nobody asks questions like that.
Honest to God, these were three actual questions asked with a sincerity that made me feel a little wobbly.
I bet you couldn’t take a meaningful headshot of a cat
Funny you should ask. Take a look at this handsome fella. He said he enjoyed the experience with me, and he’s even planning to come back for some more just as soon as he found himself an agent.
If you talk in your sleep, don’t you wake yourself up?
Absolutely I do. I wake up saying words like “Shnizelfloomens” and nobody is any the wiser, least of all me. Two years ago I woke myself up laughing, though I could not remember what I dreamt. These days apparently I mostly sing contently to myself.
Can you retouch me so my face look like Kim Kardashian’s bum/ Michael Fassbender / the way I loooked 10 years ago?
Someone told me this story: An actor walks into a casting. Silence. The casting director looks at his headshot. Then he looks up and says: “What did you do with your much better looking younger brother?”
I will zap any blemishes on the computer. Anything that’s not permanent goes in the retouch. Everything else, I would suggest, stays.
I have several more Wolf questions
Fabulous. Save them for when you come to my studio. Otherwise we won’t have anything to say to each other, and we’ll spend hours in awkward silence as I take your headshots with you looking sullen and austere.
Sounds like a plan. So when I’m there can I ask you again whether you are really called ‘Wolf’? Because, I mean, in this FAQ, you’re just brushing it off, but when we’re face to face and I ask you, you’ll have to admit that a) nobody can honestly be called ‘Wolf’, and b) you’re really called ‘Kevin’.
If you ask me again, I will give you the truthful answer which is: ‘Yes, I am really called Wolf.’ I will smile amicably, but then I will ring a bell, and a butler will come carrying a tray with an enormous lemon on it. You will then have to eat the entire lemon before we can take any further pictures.
When you don’t do headshots, what do you do with yourself?
Every morning, I look in the mirror, show my teeth, and growl. Then I say: “Who’s the Wolf then, eh, who’s the Wolf!?” In the evening, I look in the mirror again and marvel at how working all day makes me look younger and more handsome. I hold a little jar against my temple and try and bottle up ‘essence of lupine thinking’. This I sell to gullible French tourists.
I can keep myself endlessly amused like that. But when I run out of things to say to myself, I write. I can spend hours practicing scales on the piano. My current favourite is g-minor. When I get tired of writing and playing the piano, I withdraw to my secret command centre and plot world-domination.
My older brother just told me there’s an animal called ‘wolf’. Were you named after this ‘wolf’ animal?
LOL you just silly now.