Corbis paid O’Rear a significant sum, but the details are legendary. Depending on the interview, the figure ranges from the "low six figures" to "just under $200,000." By stock photography standards in 1998, that was an absolute nuclear bomb of a payout.
O’Rear thought they were going to use it for a poster. Or a brochure. He had no idea they were going to staple it to the most popular operating system in the history of computing. When Windows XP launched on October 25, 2001, Bliss was everywhere. It was in schools, libraries, airport kiosks, grandma’s Dell, and the teenager’s gaming rig in the basement.
If you visit today, you can’t see the horizon. You see agriculture. The digital Eden has been reclaimed by the real world. Microsoft retired Bliss after Windows XP reached End of Life. But it never really left us. It’s the meme behind the "Clean your desktop" jokes. It’s the standard by which all default wallpapers are judged (and found wanting). original windows xp wallpaper
Then, Microsoft came calling. Microsoft’s art director was searching for "Pastoral landscapes without people." They found O’Rear’s hill. They wanted exclusivity—meaning no other company, ad agency, or calendar printer could ever use that hill again.
And it will still be the most beautiful desktop you’ve ever had. Corbis paid O’Rear a significant sum, but the
But for the rest of us, Bliss is more than a photo. It is a time capsule. It holds the sound of a dial-up modem handshake, the click of a CRT monitor power button, and the promise of a simpler, greener digital world.
He didn't think much of it. He sent the roll of Fuji Velvia film to his lab, scanned the best shot, and uploaded it to a stock photo database called Westlight (later bought by Corbis). Or a brochure
For four years, that photo sat in a database under the generic name: "Rolling Green Hills, California."
But you don’t remember the box. You remember the image inside.
Close your eyes for a second. Picture the year 2002. You’re walking into a Circuit City or a CompUSA. The air smells like fresh inkjet paper and hot plastic. In front of you, stacked in rainbow-colored boxes, are the CDs for Windows XP.
If that name sounds familiar, it’s because O’Rear didn't shoot stock photos in a studio. He was the guy National Geographic sent to photograph the vineyards of Napa and the sand dunes of the Sahara. He shot film. Big, medium-format film. The story of the photo is pure serendipity.