The people we love, kept as they truly are.
This is almost all the footage I have of my dad, Russ, when he was young. I can see that he was there — the suit, the tie, the office behind him. What I can't see is him — the detail in his face, the way he actually moved, the feeling that he's in the room. The tape gave out before the memory did. Legacy exists so that doesn't happen again.
Every session is a custom interview, built for one person — their life, the events that shaped them, what they've come to believe. No prep packet. No questions sent ahead. The goal was never a perfect answer; it's an honest one. There are almost no moments in a life where someone is documented as who they are — not how they want to be seen, not how they'd pose for a photo. That's the thing worth keeping. That's what we capture, while there's still time.
I made the first two for my own family. My mom, Beth. And my wife's father, Tim. In their homes, on their couches, surrounded by the lives they built — the shell collections, the dogs in their laps, the rooms that are entirely theirs. Not performances. People.
The technology is early. The headset is still clunky; the spatial video is captured in a way today's screens can't fully show. That's exactly why it's worth doing now. The bet isn't on the hardware being seamless — it's on having the file at all when it becomes seamless. You capture the bones now, so the future can do the rest.
You receive two things: the spatial video, made to be watched in the headset — and a traditional film, the kind you can play on any screen, any time. And then the part I'm most looking forward to: bringing the headset to you, and sitting with you while you watch. A private first viewing, in the room where it was made.
Legacy is something I'm taking on a few families at a time — deliberately, while the work and the technology grow. If it's the right moment for someone in your life — a parent, a grandparent, yourself — let's talk.
Protect your Legacy