Silent photograph montages for funeral services, made from the images of your life.
The Dark Ages

This industry stopped in about 1995. We did not.

You have seen it. A PowerPoint made the night before by whoever in the family owns a laptop. Photographs stretched to the wrong shape, a clip-art dove, a stock track fighting the organist, and a black screen with a mouse cursor in the corner for the rest of the service. Ninety seconds for eighty years, because that is what the template held.

Nobody in the room complains, because nobody complains at a funeral. The industry has been quietly relying on that for thirty years.

It is not the funeral directors' fault. They are good at the thousand things that have to happen in four days. Nobody hired them to be editors or colourists, and the tools they were handed are a burner DVD and a USB stick that may or may not play on the chapel television. So the screen — the one thing every single person in the room looks at — became an afterthought.

We think the screen is the service. So we treat it the way a cinema would. Photographs scanned at archive resolution and properly restored. A grade, so a 1962 Kodachrome and a 2023 phone photo can sit in the same reel without flinching. Pacing decided on purpose. A seamless loop instead of a black screen. Files that are tested on the venue's actual hardware before the day, not discovered broken during it.

None of this is exotic. It is a standard that every other kind of screen — the cinema, the stadium, the airport — settled decades ago. We are just the ones bringing it to the last room that never got it, whether the industry is ready or not.

Part of the problem is that the industry still thinks in linear video. One tape, one shape, one pass through the machine, burned to a disc and prayed over. Change one photograph and you start again. That world ended twenty years ago everywhere except here.

We work digitally, which means there is no single fixed thing. A version with the voice in it and a version without. A photograph swapped the night before, an ending changed from a fade to an endless loop, a file for a 2005 chapel television and another for a phone in Perth — all from the same edit. If a screen can play it, we can make it. There is no request we have had to refuse yet.

The last thirty years
Us
A PowerPoint, if you are lucky
A graded, edited reel
Ninety seconds, then black
Nineteen minutes, looping all day
A stock track over the eulogy
Silence, so the service is heard
Fingers crossed at the chapel TV
Tested on the venue's screens first
See how it works