Gathering Shells
“Life is a beach.”
That line is probably printed on millions upon millions of tacky shirts, mugs, and chotchkies globally. However, beneath the corny veneer, there’s truth to be found.
If you walk along a beach for long enough your eyes will eventually be drawn from the horizon to where the gaze naturally falls, which is the water line rushing and disappearing into the diverse blend of stones, sand, and flotsam. What follows is equally natural – the innate desire to collect the finest of what the ocean gives up to the shoreline. Each and every one of us has a perfect stone or shell in our mind’s eye, and the frenetic search on an otherwise peaceful coastline begins. We bend excitedly at the waist to collect our treasures, gathering what appears to be the closest resemblance to our mythical item. We gingerly place them in a place of safekeeping, without much of a plan for what they will become (unless you’re this guy). We fervently hunt, seeking out that specific, grandiose gift from the sea, and while it’s not found the first lesson of the beach is:
How could we possibly expect to find that exact, fictional shell while standing at one of a billion junctures between land and sea, with the latter being more unknown than the entire universe?
The answer is simple: We must relinquish the expectation of finding what can’t be found and instead realize that the opportunity to stand upon that beach, between air and ocean, the gateway between worlds on our world, is the greatest treasure of all. Searching, and the arbitrary items we stumble upon along the way, is the gift.
We find some iota of satisfaction in this newly realized notion and leave the beach, confident that the items jangling in the pocket-now-prison will please us later, flashing with the tremendous color and sheen that originally caught our attention at the water’s edge.
It isn’t until later that the next lesson of the beach reveals itself when the trove is spread out on the countertop. Somehow, by some dark and inconceivable magic, the luster and magnitude of the haul have disappeared with the departure of the ocean’s moisture, and before you is what appears to be a handful of slightly diverse gravel. To share this drab collection with anyone would be the equivalent of showing off a handful of scree . Unless that is, we are willing to take a step back and welcome the second lesson:
Our perception of the stones may have changed, but the stones themselves haven’t changed one bit – the lesson is to value how you came upon them, what they meant at that moment, and how the stone before you represents and captures that moment in a timeless capsule.
On January 30, 2025, I was fortunate enough to travel with my parents and sibling across the world to the Philippines, which is a collection of over 6,000 islands and my mother’s birthplace, ie. many beaches. The endless possibilities of what the trip could be tempted expectation, and the preemptive months, weeks, and days leading up to departure shimmered with colors of what was to come. While each day of the trip was inevitably a gift beyond description the reality of the trip was that like all journeys there would be a beginning and an ending. With such an undertaking, the perfect shell is sought out, and returning home with the perfect treasure trove is expected. This fictional and constructed mentality is an ideal method of losing a sense of presence and overlooking the details that make up the bigger picture and experience.
It was while walking on the beach of Boracay, when my gaze was drawn from the horizon down to the shells beneath my feet, that I learned these lessons.
Click each image to enlarge.
Get The Goods – Not Just A Shoot
“Get The Goods” is more than just a shoot. It’s a story of friends, identity, and a great shop. Produced in Portland, Oregon for Produce, Portland’s finest consignment and private label streetwear shop. Featuring wardrobe from Bape, Supreme, Kith, Nike, Tommy Hilfiger, and Qilo.
Take a moment to vibe with me for a couple of minutes, and imagine this: you’re floating in the tunnel of fizzy lifting drinks with Charlie and his grandpa (click here if the reference is over your head) except every little bubble you encounter is a big idea, amazing clip, awe-inspiring photo, or an outrageous headline. The moment you engage with the bubble, it pops and sends you careening in a totally different direction. You’re feeling a bit of dopamine from what you just experienced, but you don’t even recall what it was seconds later.
I’m describing the sphere of content consumption in today’s world. Nearly everyone is devouring digital digestives at an unprecedented rate. But how many of us consider the behind the scenes? The countless hours of planning and coordinating? The intention behind the image? The value behind the video?
“Get The Goods” is a shoot that has a story. And not everyone will give a damn about hearing the story because an image is meant to tell 1,000 words right? But maybe that’s a problem — maybe we’ve evolved into a state of assuming meaning without knowing what’s really up.
As a creative producer, I always start with a story that drives the project. This story has two major elements — the personal and the commercial.
Before moving to Portland I felt like an outcast, and one of the reasons for this was the way I dressed. Since I was a kid I had an interest in what I wore. Back to school shopping was practically a holiday for me. Assembling an outfit that had a coordinated flow excited me. But as I grew up in a blue-collar, beer-and-cannabis community, I found that my fashion-forward ethic meant nothing to the folks around me — it may have even dissuaded people from engaging with me.
And that’s fine. Because everyone has their own interests and culture that they adhere to. But I have mine, and it was important for me to place myself in a community where we could speak a language to each other and progress together.
The story of “Get The Goods” is of three friends. They grew up together and naturally developed an acute fashion sense as a group. They hang around the cutty parts of their interurban/industrial neighborhood in South East Portland, which places them amongst backdrops as interesting as their outfits. What they wear represents parts of who they are as individuals but also binds them together. Their regalia shows that they have pride in the outfits they assemble and an interest in the designed world around them.
This story tells the narrative of a dream I always had growing up — a dream, not a reality. Recreating this vision had a cathartic impact on me, but of course, what’s the commercial purpose?
“Get The Goods” pulled wardrobe from one of Portland’s hottest new shops — Produce. What is Produce? A group of young entrepreneurs who’ve combined their credibility and knowledge in vintage and streetwear consignment, clothing and brand design, events, and haircuts. When I first got to Portland I walked into the shop, felt at home, and made it known. Within my first month of meeting Wyatt, Reece, Odin, and the rest of the team, we had “Get The Goods” on the calendar.
The story behind the shoot for me is a tale of fashion, friendship, and a recreation of what I didn’t have as a youth. The story for Produce is intended to showcase their dialed curation of streetwear. The big picture is that a bunch of people got together, shared ideas, put dates on a calendar, and made something happen. Sure, it results in a picture that you may only interact with on an Instagram feed for 0.2 seconds. But that’s the tip of the iceberg, which is held afloat by the weight of the personalities, ideas, blood, sweat, tears, and laughter of the project.
Rather than taking a photo, shooting a video, or designing a project to convince a consumer of something, I think there’s a value in realizing who we are within the work that we do. Now, this is a bit of a tall order and doesn’t necessarily have to apply to everything we do, but it’s a principle that can make the process and outcome significantly more meaningful. A picture should tell a story of a thousand words, but what about being able to say a thousand words about a picture?
Project Concept Book
