probably the most shallow thoughts ever, on david foster wallace

funnily enough, the day i brought home infinite jest was the day david foster wallace (my fish) started jumping for food. it may just be, he got a real set of 'brass ones' since i put him in the bigger bowl by accident, but i like to think it's his internal author flushing with appreciation at me finally owning a whole book by his namesake.

having my own copy of the novel also means i have, in my posession, the inside author bio picture of david foster wallace. what a pretty, itchy face he has! so i decided for my next illustration project (author portraits for store displays), i would put his delightfully scratchy mug up in lights...

browsing photos online, i came to the sighing realization that there just isn't that much photographic interest in authors. they get shots done for book covers, maybe one or two press shots over the next decade, and that's about it. even hemmingway has only so many pictures around. and once there's a nice picture out there, it tends to be used for absolutely everything. like the scruffy david foster wallace picture, which turns out to be older than i ever expected.

(on every book cover)



vs. (now-- reading at UCLA or something)


my dreams? in shambles.

to those writers out there: 1) get many photos taken, otherwise illustrators have nothing to work with and then all your illustrations wind up looking about the same... many photos = interesting art with your face in it. also, 2) stop teasing us with how attractive you were before. and/or keep up with yourself better. david foster wallace, man, you let yourself go. i now have to love you for your mind alone.