The top speed of my 1986 Volkswagon Westfalia Vanagon is 63mph. At that speed its britches rattle and its 95 horses whine. The other day, while being passed by a tow truck hauling a big rig, Donnie and I glowed with feeling… we’ll be seeing a fresh new world this year.
Donnie turns 27 this year, I turn 30. Starting in the lonely swirling deserts of California, we’re hoping to make Alaska and back. If things are working and we’re not getting reeled in by loneliness, money or other forces, we’ll keep going. We’ll keep going because we think about the great explorers of our generation sitting idle, leashed to a desk and a chair, thinking about what they could do if they let themselves. We think about our counterparts seeking page views through stories of fear rather than truth. We think about a world that’s gotten so good at existing, we create problems to busy ourselves. These things keep us moving.
63mph is a story about finding your own speed and following it, not necessarily following the ones established by those before you.
For us, that means telling the stories of traveling our land… the story of us… making photographs, words and art from parts of the land more often rural than urban. It means reconnecting in a connected world, spending time with the land and its people. It means making work that is not based on advertising dollars or deadlines. It means creating art that informs and inspires rather than that that confuses. It means causing trouble when trouble needs to be caused.
We’re going to a place where home is everywhere and tomorrow is unwritten. The passenger seat sits warm in the evening orange, the music is low and there is much to see. Let’s go.