The Answer is On the Wall

When I first saw this wall, I knew immediately that it had to be photographed. Not because it was particularly ornate or historically significant, but because of the simple red digits painted on its surface: 42. For anyone who’s read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, this number isn’t just a number—it’s the number, the answer to life, the universe, and everything. And yet, here it was, not in some cosmic landscape, but on a weathered patch of brick and peeling paint.

From a compositional standpoint, I kept the frame tight, letting the number sit just off-centre enough to avoid perfect symmetry. The texture of the wall does as much storytelling as the number itself. You can see layers of paint over the years, the uneven mortar, and the exposed bricks breaking through like memories that refuse to stay buried. These imperfections matter; they remind me that even answers—especially the ultimate ones—are never as neat as we’d like them to be.

Technically, the exposure needed to preserve both the detail in the white paint and the warmth of the revealed brick. Too much contrast, and the wall would lose its softness; too little, and the textures would flatten into nothing. I aimed for a balance that let the red of the “42” pop without feeling artificially enhanced. The light here was soft and indirect, perfect for pulling out the grit and grain of the surface without harsh shadows cutting across it.

What I enjoy most about this image is its understatement. It doesn’t shout its meaning; it sits there, quiet and unassuming, letting you either walk past without noticing or stop and smile if you’re in on the reference. In that way, it mirrors Douglas Adams’ joke: the answer might be simple, but the question—and everything around it—is infinitely more complex.

So yes, in a way, I suppose I found the answer. It just happened to be on a wall, in peeling paint, quietly waiting for someone to ask the right question.