Sight Unseen

Not much can be said—only seen.

I recently came across a skate video from my childhood. A video that didn't just inspire me—it shaped me. It ignited a passion that would define years of my life.

Now, here, on a typical Saturday evening, scrolling through the endless social-feed, with both hands, I play this gem in one of my 27 open windows.

I am thankful.

Astonished by how one piece of creative expression can leave such a lasting impact.

I love art. I love self-expression. I love the freedom to create.

I love this skate video—Sight Unseen (2001).

Please enjoy:

Hollywood doesn't make movies anymore … they make content.

I came across this statement recently, and it hit me hard.

Think about how we watch movies now in constrast to before. Films used to be events—something you set aside time for, something you anticipated. Whether it was a trip to the movie theater, renting from Blockbuster, or waiting for a DVD release, watching a movie felt intentional.

Now? Everything is just digital content. It's packaged, optimized, and pushed through streaming services designed to keep you engaged, not necessarily to create something meaningful. Streaming platforms prioritize watch time over impact. TikToks, YouTube Shorts, and even full-length streaming movies are all fighting for the same thing: your attention.

But maybe this isn't about movies losing their magic—maybe we're witnessing the evolution of a new medium.

Silent films gave way to talkies. Black and white became color films. Each shift didn't just change how movies looked, but how they were made and experienced. Theaters demanded full immersion. Directors from that era crafted films knowing the audience was locked in—no pause button, no distractions.

But today's audience lives in an entirely different world. They watch on-demand streaming content while scrolling their phone. They pause a Netflix movie to make dinner. A whole generation has never had to wait for a VHS release, never timed a bathroom break at the theater because missing a scene meant it was gone forever.

This isn't just a shift in how we watch—it's a shift in what a movie even is. Storytelling in film is adapting to a medium that no longer requires full commitment. And while that opens new creative possibilities, it also means filmmakers are no longer making films for the same kind of audience.

So the real question isn't whether movies have changed, but whether movies—as we once knew them—still exist at all.

What do you think? Are we in a new era of film, or has something been lost in the shift? - jl