I’m gonna say it: I think that headshots are terrifying.
I do.
Only Starving Artists have to deal with these things, everyone but everyone in the entertainment/performance industries. Everyone else—I mean, the only comparable things that the rest of the world will ever have to deal with are driver’s license pictures. Photos on badges at work. Mugshots.
These pictures happen and everyone takes a gander at them later and goes “Ha-HAAAAAAAA, I look hilarious. And awful.” Because of course you do! You’re sitting there posing by yourself, just…posin’. You’re not trying to capture any particular moment in time, you’re not trying to showcase a swimsuit or a ring or a really awesome cigar, or show off what a beautiful beach you’re at (in “sunny FORT LAUDERDALE!”). All you’re doing is showing off your mug, your face, your head. It is an inherently awkward thing to do.
We Starving Artists, however, are expected to pose in just such a fashion and be awesome about it. Headshots are our calling cards, we cannot get into the door of any casting office without one. Correction: without a super good one. And, we’re supposed to know what that means, how to do that, how to not be awkward and instead, take a picture that says “HEY! Look at me, I’m kickass and suuuuuuuuuper different, you should probably cast me in everything always.”
…
Let it be said that this is not an easily achievable thing for everyone. Some people don’t trust in the fact that casting directors have brains and imaginations and will, therefore, treat their headshot session as an opportunity to show off their entire arsenal of alternate personalities. There are actors in this world that have headshots featuring them as, say, an astronaut, a zoo-keeper, a Professor Plum-type…some kind of combination of all of the above, all looking very fierce and pensive. And desperate.
These people exist.
(And, I’d be willing to bet that they have some siiiiiick photos on their driver’s licenses.)
There are also people who treat their headshot session as an opportunity to look “glamorous”. You know. “Glamorous”? Napoleon Dynamite? Everyone’s aunt/babysitter circa 1989-1992? …Once upon a time (two months ago), my stepmother asked me if that was going to be my approach.
You mean am I going to Olan Mills?
“Or, ya know, I don’t know. Somewhere. But, are ya getting a glamour shot? Is that why ya need new ones?”
“Or, ya know, I don’t know. Somewhere. But, are ya getting a glamour shot? Is that why ya need new ones?”
Oh. Ummmmm…nooo…
In all fairness, I was kinda hoping to get some of these. When I was 7.
I don’t need to tell you that these people definitely still exist.
And then, there are people who approach their headshot session with fear in their eyes. Not fear of the photographer, but fear of the end product. They inherently know that everything will go absolutely inexplicably wrong with the shoot, and they know this because they are “not photogenic”.
These people are goddamn everywhere.
The session happens, and suddenly, the actor has forgotten how to smile, what a smile looks like on them, what smiling even is.
“Oh god, my fucking chipmunk cheeks.”
They begin to fidget and sit in positions so unnatural that it would make those Cirque du Soleil guys feel uncomfortable.
“Does this, like, look alluring? …How fat are my arms right now?”
“Just relax.”
But, they don’t relax. Instead, they panic. They sweat, they lose focus, they forget who they are as an actor and why they’re even there. And the world…the world goes to shit.
“Ohmygod, I hate this goddamn blazer. Why’d I bring this blazer?! I can’t believe he’s making me wear it, I swear to god I must look like I’m 40 or something right now and I’m totally not and I had no right to skip the gym this morning, that was insane and now I’m all bloated and stupid looking and my hair is a goddamn mess and…oh god, I’m a disaster. I’m a total disaster. Fuckin—uggggggggh, stop it. Relax. … … …THIS PICTURE IS NEVER GOING TO CAPTURE MY ESSENCE!!!!”
“You ok?”
“I just…I don’t think I look that great in pictures.”
“You’re fiiiiiiiiiine.”
“JUST FINE?! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!”
The proofs come back and there it is, shot after shot, a cross between a deer-in-headlights and an apology.
“Fucking hell, is this really all I have to work with?”
And there will be one picture, one picture amongst the hundreds taken that is passable, somewhat cute and not entirely tragic.
“Oh. So, I guess that’s my headshot, then.”
…
…OK, so this wasn’t precisely how my headshots went down the first time around, but I deeply feared such a thing happening with these new shots. Deeply.
I have no idea what it is, but I have never really dug how I look in pictures. Not really. Put me in front of a video camera, we’re swell. Put me in front of a camera and give me a little “Say ‘Cheese’ ” and I tend to look a goofball. Well, I think that I do.
(Sidebar: It’s entirely beside the point that I am, in fact, a goofball. I would really like to not look that way when I am, say, trying to be sincere or lovely. You’re taking a picture, I try to exude some kind of ethereal glow or something about myself, no, absolutely not, you will get “goofball”, this is what happens.)
So as the time got closer to my shoot, and the more pressure that I was putting on the event and the end product and every ounce of headshot-related everything (a pressure that my manager was only adding to: “I’m realllllllllllllly putting a lot of emphasis on these new pictures to get you more work.” You are?! Oh. Fantastic. SO AM I!), the more that I began to fear that shitty headshots were inevitable.
…
So. They’re not.
I am currently flipping through 367 proofs of my face (!!!!367!!!!) and I can assuredly tell you that you can, in fact, walk away from your shoot not feeling like a complete and total numbnuts with nothing but lackluster choices for yourself.
Here’s how:
Step One) (…”Cut a hole in the box”…I had to…AND) Make sure that you do your research. Lots of it. Look at as many different photographers’ portfolios as is humanly possible to know what’s out there, what in no way appeals to you, and what completely strikes your fancy.
Step Two) Once you find someone whose work you dig, meet with them to see if you actually dig each other. You don’t want to get photographed by an asshole or someone that you just don’t click with because otherwise, you’ll be gritting your teeth and clenching your ass cheeks so tightly throughout the shoot that you’ll never photograph well.
Step Three) Be nice to yourself in the days leading up to the shoot: Get some sleep for once, buy yourself some new clothes (you’re already dropping an exorbitant amount of money on the shoot, what’s a little more? Honestly.), chug gallons of water and, maybe, if you’re feeling crazy, skip the alcohol for a bit. It will suck, especially when you’re hanging out with your lady friends and they’re working on some sexy looking martinis, and when everyone else at work is participating in Shot O’Clock. Restrain yourself, sip on your water, convince yourself that you feel like a champ, and plan to make up for lost time as soon as your shoot is over and done with.
Step Four) Go in knowing what you want.
Step Five) Go in knowing what you want.
Step Six) Go in knowing what you want.
Step Seven) Allow yourself to be surprised.
Step Eight) Leave your cop uniform at home.
Step Nine) Have your photographer play The Strokes-station on Pandora throughout your shoot. Just do it.
Step Ten) Remind yourself that this shoot is not a matter of Life or Death. Continually. Best case scenario, you’re having a little mini dance party for a few hours and chatting with a really fun and quirky guy who just happens to have a camera stuck to his face. And a make-up artist behind him (and, who are we kidding, that shit’s awesome).
I mean, that’s it. No big deal.
It doesn’t have to be terrifying. It can actually be a completely good time. And if it is, if it legitimately is, then you’ll get your proofs back (whether it’s 50 or 450 of them) and find yourself going:
Oh. So, that’s not terrible. That’s…Me. That’s Me.
And then you remind yourself that that’s all it ever is.
