Persistent Vision

First, there was nothing. 

And then, a keystroke.

Several of them, actually.

Existence achieved. Boo-yah.  

At this time, ladies and gentlemen, I humbly request your full and undivided attention. 

*a full orchestra cues in and blares a soaringly triumphant fanfare with pomp, circumstance, happenstance, and Riverdance*

Ok, perhaps not so humbly, and the latter two things really are completely unrelated to the context, aside from the fact that they rhyme rather nicely. But, there they are. Some things in life don’t really make sense, but there they are, whether they make sense to you or not, like a Jewish sponsored pig roast, Issac Mizrahi wearing Levi’s, Converse and a ripped up Fruit of the Loom t-shirt, or the fact that Rick Perry considers himself a serious presidential candidate. 

But to refocus. Ah, where to begin? The very beginning is always a very good place to start (and a nauseatingly trite statement) but in this case, we’ll start from here, go back to there, and end up… somewhere, I suppose.

But it’ll be somewhere that’s pretty freakin’ awesome.

As I strike this inaugural blog entry, I find myself incredibly conscious of my surroundings. They teach you in journalism school to constantly scrutinize the five W’s - who, what, where, when, why. In present tense:

Who? The name is Farnik. Storm Invictus Farnik. No, that’s not my given name, but it is the name I have chosen. Ask nicely, and I’ll reveal you my birth name. Or you can just Google me, whatever’s easier.

What? Well, this blog is what’s what. But definitely not what’s what in the… I think y’all get my drift. This is supposed to be a somewhat professional blog. Keepin’ it classy like San Diego, kids. And with a lot more journalistic integrity than Mr. Burgundy.  

Where? A quaint, delightful and cozy house of coffee, tea, and other fine beverages, along with some killer sammiches, appropriately christened Strange Brew. The ceilings are soaring with high beams and track lighting, the chairs are a mix of cushy red and black pleather and curved pumpkin spice stained pine  and the otherwise drab white walls are decorated with a collection of unusual portraits - musicians, actors, and sundry other celebrities, depicted in intricately cut pieces of mirrored glass. From the wall across the room, Elvis smirks, John Lennon observes through gold rimmed spectacles, and Tom Petty is a heartbreaker- a sidelong glance and Eric Clapton is jamming out, Mick Jagger is laughing, and Elvis Costello is a creepin’. Behind me, Dolly’s red glass lips pucker, Stevie Ray Vaughn strums, and Johnny Cash watches. All depicted with impeccable, ahem, glass and style. Bad joke, and no, I’m not the least bit sorry. I make no apologies for my wit :P But really, it’s a lovely place, filled with Austin’s finest weirdos, wackadoodles and whoa-nellies. And it’s open 24 hours a day. The weirdo wackadoodle whoa-nelly behind this blog is frequently found in this venue. I’m the only soul here aside from the barista, and the solace is welcome. 

When? The date is Saturday, January 7, 2012 A.D. Or, according to the Mayan Calendar, approximately 347 days shy of Armageddon, Apocalypse, or the Age of Aquarius, depending on who you’re asking. Either way, despite the world being wrought with extreme financial disparity and unrest, the drums of one long, unnecessary war falling silent just as the drums of another long, unnecessary war start to resonate ominously, and of a general sense of upheaval, uncertainty and ugly reality, the world is keeps on turning, and even if things do go to hell in the proverbial handbasket, I’ll still keep documenting and posting what I see here as long as I’m able.  

Why? That, my dear readers/viewers/news consumers/rabid fanboys’n’girls, is the question of the moment. The minute. The hour. The day. Skipping past the weeks, months, years and decades, it really is the question of my life, and the actualization of a dream I dreamed in days gone by - one that I am now working to bring to full fruition.

Once upon a time, in a land of dirt and little money known as the plains of eastern Colorado, there was a young boy. Eldest progeny of two brilliant engineers who chose to abandon the hustle and bustle of city living for the quiet simplicity of the country life on the family farm, he was very different from other little boys. He was unusually intelligent, wise well beyond his years, and spoke with a vocabulary that confused his peers and shocked his teachers. He was a very strange child, but strangest of all was that he thought in pictures. He saw things no one else saw - everyday objects were beautiful pieces of art, mundane scenes were magic moments, and nature sparkled his eyes with her magnificent geometry, or sometimes lack thereof. At age seven, after asking if he could take pictures, he was handed a Pentax K1000 35 mm film SLR by his mother. She showed him how to load the film, advance the shutter, set aperture and shutter speed, and then she sent him on his merry way and said “Go take some pictures, sweetie.” 

And boy oh boy, did he ever.

Sixteen years, 80,000+ images, two Associates degrees, a Bachelor’s degree, and a fistful of awards at the local, regional, and national level later, that eager little boy who thought in pictures and saw the world in a different way is a grown man who is a professional freelance photojournalist, videographer and social documentarian, and has honed his visual thoughts and unique perceptions into a career that he hopes to pursue for the remainder of his lifetime.

So that was there, and now we’re back to here. A burning question may linger in your mind… why photojournalism? Why not landscape and nature, or perhaps commercial, editorial or fashion photography? I could easily focus on any of the latter, and make tons of money doing it. Landscape and nature is my second wind of passion photographically speaking, and I have done commercial, editorial, and fashion work over the span of my professional career, and will continue to do so as I have opportunities. But while those images are creatively significant and have great artistic merit, they do not have a truly lasting social impact. They do not fundamentally change people’s lives. They are expression, and they should be regarded as such. 

Photojournalism is different in that it wields the power to influence the world.

To move them to tears

To elate them into joy

To unite them in sorrow

To anger them into revolution 

Each frame giving a voice to those who otherwise would not be heard 

Giving a face to those places that would not otherwise be seen

Giving meaning to things that otherwise not have context 

Getting the world to open their eyes and see the world around them as they’ve never seen it before

Photojournalism is an art.

Of documenting light and darkness 

Light so that we would be hopeful and inspired.

Darkness so that we would bring light to the places where it exists and banish it.

In the hands of the photojournalist, the camera becomes more than just a means to capture a photograph. It becomes a catalyst for change.  

I am more than a photojournalist.

I am an illuminator of the human condition.

I hope that you all will join me on this journey, a journey of sight and sound, a journey that I hope will evoke as much emotion in you as I feel when I capture these elements, these images, videos and audio, wield these words, and weave them into multi-faceted, mesmerizing multimedia creations and imagery creating written stories to compliment them. 

This road is often a lonely one. Journalism is not a job that one can do half-heartedly. It requires whole hearted devotion. And even having only been in this field for three years of my career, I have already sacrificed much in my journey as an illuminator.

Financial stability. Security. Friendship. Even love.  

But for the love of my craft and my passion, I make these sacrifices willingly, knowing in that sharing my visions, I will, in time, find all the pieces that are missing from my puzzle. I will be successful in my endeavors, and as the arc of time progresses, I hope to grow awareness and spark interest in my work, to evoke raw emotion, to share my persistent vision with the world.

And so, with all that said, I shall ramble no longer.

I have selected an image. I captured this image on November 30, 2011. The day after I left my home state of Colorado for good, and the day I made Texas my new home. As I journeyed through the rolling and rugged Texas Hill Country towards Austin, just an hour out from my final destination, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a derelict structure set back off the road. It spoke to me, and I flipped around and drove back, parked on the shoulder, hopped a barbed wire fences, tiptoed through a tangle of mesquite brush, scrub oak and prickly pears, and was greeted by a breathtaking shell of a two story limestone farmhouse, with an imposing 70 foot tall oak tree flanking one partially collapsed corner. I walked around it, taking pictures from every angle. As I rounded the corner and passed under the sprawling canopy of the tree, I realized the gnarled branches serendipitously created a serpentine natural frame around the broken home. The setting sun cast a glorious warmth from behind, and so the scene was set. 

Though the sun was setting, from my perspective, it was rising on a new day in my life. A day with limitless possibilities, many grand adventures, and endless fantastic stories yet to be told… 

Persistent Vision begins… now.