Foster Huntington

For years, social media has felt like watching TV at a restaurant, with the sound off. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch it. Changes in backgrounds and colors draw my attention. The occasional beautiful woman on a beach pulls me away from the conversation I’m having with a friend or family member, and I watch for a few seconds. I, like so many others in the busy room, can’t help but watch. It’s a distraction from the conversation happening around us and makes the time go faster until my food arrives, but it means nothing. We retain none of it, and it doesn’t impact us in a lingering way. As someone that makes images and writes for a living, Instagram felt like a dead end when the suits at Facebook started severing content based on what they think our subconscious brains react to more than what our conscious brains chose to see. This led to Instagram becoming a platform for memes and cut-rate TikTok videos, not something where people share stuff they are proud of. The algorithm rewards quantity, not quality, and tends to focus on the reptilian brain. Death, Sex, and Outrage.
About a year ago, I fired up my old blog, A Restless Transplant, as a substack and started taking photos, making little videos and writing. I get way more out of writing longer pieces than I do whittling shit down to instagram. With a new muse, hunting, I’m traveling more and have more time by myself to think and come up with ideas to write about. Here are some photos from the last few months, and things I’ve been up to. Head over to my substack to see more, the links in my profile.