Keep going back

I don’t go out to snap photos nearly as much as I used to. But then again, that’s actually pretty normal for me. I go through these constant cycles of taking a bunch of photos, then taking a long break, then taking more, and then disappearing again…it’s a miracle that I’ve managed to stay afloat above 100 followers on Instagram for as long as I have. Really.

I blame Pokemon Go. It’s hard to take world-shattering pictures and catch dank ‘mons at the same time.

But despite how long the break, I always grapple with one thing in particular while I’m out taking shots, and that’s redundancy. The notion that I’ve been to a particular spot already, and any end product I can shape from that repetition is very much just a rehash of what I’ve already formed from that spot before.

For me, with certain spots, there are only so many times you can revisit a spot before you start thinking that you’ve already taken more than you can ask out of it. The seasons change, the lighting shifts by the hour, the people in frame change faces, change names, but the feeling is realized, and there’s only so many times you can ask to borrow that from a particular place before the song turns into a low drone, and the message is lost in the familiarity of a scene seen too many times before.

So you move to the next thing, and the cycle repeats.

But therein lies the beauty of being someone who creates, and being someone who sticks with their brand of art long enough to see the images start to sharpen, the notes start to ring, the words start to sing. You come back to that place after being to so many other places, when the message isn’t as clear as they days you visited day after day, back to back. You’re a bit older now, a bit different, a bit more ready to look at it some other way.

And you do it all again.

Go back to that old spot. Find that forgotten draft. Pick that half-done song up from the chorus. Find the new in the old.

It’s surprising the kind of inspiration you’ll find in the things you’ve already done.

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Keep going back

A Modest Venture

Before things get started around here, I figure I should take a moment to really introduce the concrete side of what Fernway does. I find myself chuckling whenever I try to call it a company, and it comes across sounding cult-y if I call it a group. In its most literal sense, Fernway is a YouTube channel that I started with my friend Patrick around February of this year. It’s a tiny channel that still only has one video on it: a modestly shot tribute to the town we’ve called home for nearly all our lives.  Since then, we’ve been working hard on project number two, an ordeal of slightly larger scope, but still with similar thematic choices to the first. It’s a bit more work intensive, but it’s getting done, little by little.

Now I may have the order a bit skewed here, being that Patrick was taking pictures before we started the YouTube channel and I only really started afterwards, but it feels to me at least that testing the waters of tromping around town and taking pictures and videos of everything really sparked my interest in taking pictures. Eventually, I found myself commandeering my father’s Rebel T1i camera, paying out for a Adobe Photoshop and Lightroom subscription, and posting whatever I worked on to Instagram. Patrick and I both post up photos often, but I’m pretty sure the guy’s got at least three or four times more followers than I do. If you ever get the chance, definitely give the guy’s page a look. He’s come a long way in such a short amount of time. Or you could toss my page a spare glance. Maybe. Please?

But more to the point, I’ve been thinking lately that Fernway is more than just the FernwayFilms YouTube channel. It’s more of a network of creativity and expression that we plan to lay out with every new piece of work we put out there for people to see. Videos, photos, and even the contents of this blog all have their place in this figurative collage we’re laying out…all working towards making something, anything, resonate in whatever audience we reach.

This is what we’ve chosen to put our talents and our time into. Sitting here right now, I don’t even know if it’ll pay off in the end. But that’s not something that comes even remotely close to making me second guess this modest venture. Right now, I know it’s just something I love doing.

What else matters?

A Modest Venture