A milestone birthday gift from the whole family

Four generations remember four different decades of the same person. Ask each household for the photograph from the years they actually knew him.

Ask each household for the photograph from the years they knew him — not for their favourite picture, which is a question with no wrong answer and therefore no useful one.

A whole family spans four decades of the same person. His children remember a man in his thirties running late. His grandchildren remember someone already retired, with time. Those are different people, and both are him.

This is not the same ask as one from the grandchildren

A gift from all the grandchildren comes from one cohort who mostly remember one era. It is a narrow, coherent request, and that is what makes it easy to organise.

The whole family is harder, because there is no single era to ask for. Sending everyone the same message — send me a good photo of Dad — produces eleven pictures from the same fifteen years, because that is the period the loudest branch of the family has on their phones.

Ask by decade instead. One picture from the years you knew him best. The replies stop overlapping almost immediately.

Someone will chase this, and it should be one person

Collecting from relatives is the hard part, and it does not distribute. In practice one person ends up messaging their cousins twice and their uncle four times, and if that person is not named at the start, it is whoever cracks first.

Name them. Give them a date that is earlier than the party. The guide to getting relatives to send photographs is mostly about how to phrase the ask so it can be answered from a phone in under a minute, which is the only version that works.

Several photographs, one piece

A milestone from a whole family is one of the few cases where the piece is genuinely better with more than one image in it — not as a collage, but because the span is the subject. The distance between a photograph from 1974 and one from last summer is the thing worth looking at.

What holds it together is what people wrote down: the van, the allotment, the fact that he always drove and never navigated.

The number is not the subject

An eightieth is a number, and a piece that carries the number is dated to the week it was given. The photographs and what people said about them are still worth having at the eighty-fifth.

Signature is sized for a piece several households are putting their names to.