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?

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“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?