introducing coolhunter.
05
I used to think I was just living my life.
Working at HMV.
Believing music could change your life.
Making music with Lovely Killbots.
Believing we'd always have another song to write.
Living in an art building in Liberty Village.
Trying to build a romantic life.
Making music with Jo Ryder, after life did what it did.
Remembering who I was.
Birthday parties.
Indie shows 5 nights a week.
Album releases.
Tiny galleries.
Roadside attractions.
Cities at 2 a.m.
I thought those were just places I happened to be.
I didn't realize I was building an archive.
Watch the scene study below.
Not an archive of photographs or cool videos.
An archive of attention.
For years, I thought these were separate chapters.
They weren't.
They were all teaching me the same thing.
Show up.
Create.
Pay attention.
Care deeply.
Belief that a birthday matters.
A friend's first EP or new album release matters.
Someone's tiny gallery or theatre opening matters.
The local band playing to thirty people matters.
That every attempt to put something beautiful into the world matters.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot that.
Life became about surviving.
Building a company.
Keeping things afloat.
Trying to make sense of losses I never saw coming.
Standing in Gaspé last summer, in front of the abandoned Cotton Candy World trailer, I realized I wasn't missing a new idea. I was remembering an old one.
Coolhunter wasn't something I needed to invent.
It was something that had been happening for twenty years.
Coolhunter isn't really about nostalgia.
It's about attention.
About believing ordinary moments become extraordinary once they're memories.
About believing art deserves witnesses.
About refusing to stop believing that people, places, music, photographs, conversations, and fleeting moments deserve to be remembered.
Because they happened.
Because someone cared enough to be there.
Because that's how culture survives.
“Wish you were here.”
The archive continues on Instagram, whenever the mood hits ♡
(usually after midnight)
