Hi, Ian Daffern here. This is a very unique update as I’m turning the mic over to Travis Huggett, photographer, subject inspiration for the whole Railfan endeavour. We’ve put a lot of the focus on the autism + transit side of this story: but for documentary fans, our story is also one of an artist trying to find his way, drawing inspiration from some my favourite documentaries like This is Marwencol and Wasteland.

Travis runs a blog called East Side Art Supply, about his artistic process. He just wrote a feature there about Railfan’s origins - a soulful reflection on inspiration, parenting, and finding the right outcome for an artistic concept (should it be a book? A gallery show?)  

But before we get there: 

Railfan is close to reaching the halfway mark on Backerkit! Which is thrilling since we only started two weeks ago (CHECK). We have however hit a plateau. We know how busy life is for our autism families, so even your taking a minute to read this, is appreciated. For everyone else: why not take a few minutes and grab your favourite reward (hey it’s the end of the week, you made it! Pick up something fancy!) 

And without further ado: 

Documentary Now: How my Photo Series Became a Documentary Film
by Travis Huggett 

This is a post that, for a few reasons, I’ve been putting off writing.

The first is that I think if you know me, or my photography at all—even if it’s just from Substack or Instagram or wherever—you’re at least partially aware of the story. The second is that I’ve had to tell the basic background of it a dozen or so times on a dozen or so Zoom calls, and I’m kind of tired of telling it.

AND YET, here I am, about to tell the story again, because it only seems fair that if I’m going to ask you, reader, to support this project in a few different ways, you should at least know how it happened.

If you don’t care how it happened, now is the perfect time to bail.

So we’ve made a documentary inspired by my photo series Railfan, called Railfan. It’s about autistic kids in New York City and their love of trains. It’s also about the families of those kids, and how they love and support them.

 So, the doc is done(ish), but it turns out that making a film—and then figuring out how to get people to see it—costs money. We’re crowdfunding to help cover some of the post-production costs.

OK, let’s get to it.

From an early age, Orson was very interested in trains. There are times, like last Sunday, when it seems to be the only thing he is interested in.

When he was really little, he would ask to take the subway to Union Square because you can watch the trains from above. I remember him there so well, always wanting to stay for just one more. When he got tired, he would sit on my feet and watch.

My nephew Booker is seven years older than Orson. Before Orson was even born, Booker was talking about trains, collecting every possible Muni Pals subway line, and asking about the different routes of Metro-North. Although they seem to love different things about trains, they both LOVED trains, and they are both autistic.

At some point, I started to think differently about the subway. As a parent, I realized this obviously wasn’t going to be the same as just using it to get around the city. Riding the train was going to be something we did.

If your kid gets interested in hockey or dance, you spend time—sometimes a lot of time—doing whatever it takes for them to enjoy and explore that interest. I never had to get Orson to soccer practice. Instead, I had to take the A train to Howard Beach.

Roughly 10 years ago, We were at the New York Transit Museum. He was seven at the time. It was something we did a lot. Like, too much maybe.

The Transit Museum is pretty great. I take it for granted now, but it’s a small, excellent museum tucked into a now-inactive subway station in downtown Brooklyn. It’s full of historic photos, art, and, of course, old decommissioned subway cars that sit quietly on the tracks, doors open, just waiting for you to hop on—never pulling away as you hustle down the stairs.

The first photograph I took that I consider part of the series Railfan was on that day, in one of those trains. It was one of the more modern cars in the station, one I probably rode in college.

I took a hundred photos of Orson on the subway before that day, but this one felt different. He had been holding a center pole, staring down the length of the train. He focused on me for a second. He didn’t pose; he just held very still. He had reached an age where he seemed to understand when I was really taking his photograph, rather than just grabbing moments with my phone.

That photo gave me an idea.

I asked Booker if I could take his portrait in his room with some of his trains and subway signs. He indulged me, giving me enough time to get off four or five frames. That one worked too. I now had two photographs, and it was starting to feel like proof of concept.

Of course, between the two of them, it was already on my radar that an interest in trains was pretty common among autistic kids. I’d talked with other parents from Orson’s school, and it was incredible how often trains came up. I think a lot of people know about this connection now, but at the time I was surprised by just how common it seemed to be.

I started by reaching out to the Orson’s principal. I wrote up my idea: to make a series of portraits of autistic kids doing what they loved, either riding the train or showing me their favorite train stuff at home. I asked her to share it with any parents she thought might be interested.

I received several immediate responses, and from then on, I was riding around the city with a different family on a different train most weekends. Eventually, I was able to post the same pitch to a Facebook message board for Brooklyn parents of kids with special needs, and from there, it took off. I soon had more people reaching out to me than I could photograph.

Most shoots started at the kid’s local station. From there, we would go pretty much wherever they wanted. I’d ride along, hoping they’d relax, have fun, and forget I was taking photos.

It didn’t always work. There were a few days where I don’t think they ever really felt comfortable with me there, and I can’t blame them. The other riders on the train often stared at us too, like I was paparazzi hassling a celebrity.

Surprisingly soon after I started, the series was featured in The New York Times.

After the story ran, I started hearing from parents almost every day. I was able to build what I felt was a good collection of portraits, but it didn’t feel complete.

I was still uncertain about where to take the series next. It didn’t quite feel like a book. I thought maybe it could become a gallery show.

Little did I know, the eventual landing place for the series was about to present itself to me.

I had paused shooting during COVID. Nobody wanted to ride the subway any more than they had to, and they certainly didn’t want to invite strangers into their homes. So Railfan wasn’t exactly front of mind when I received an email from a documentary filmmaker in Toronto.

Ian Daffern had seen the photographs in The Times. His own son is a non-autistic railfan, so he was spending some of his free time much like we were.

He floated the idea of making a short documentary about Orson, Booker, me, and the series—exploring the relationship these kids had with the subway and the ways their families found to indulge that interest. His previous films had focused on artists using their work to effect social change or raise awareness.

I liked the idea of the series transitioning into a documentary short. I thought there was the potential for a beautiful film. I’d seen it with Orson and Booker first: the fascination, the joy, the stimulation. A film could include all the things my still photographs were leaving out.

My only hesitation was that I’d been working on the series for years and handing the project off to someone else made me uncomfortable—never mind how uncomfortable I was with the idea of actually being in the film.

I decided the only way it would work for me was if we made it together. Ian would direct, and we would produce it as a team. I would also have to get over it and allow myself to be filmed.

Ian agreed, which was a pretty brave step considering we barely knew each other and he’d be traveling from Canada every time we filmed.

From there, we never really looked back.

Ian suggested hiring someone local as director of photography, so I recommended my friend Joe Tomcho, a photographer and filmmaker I’ve known since we were both assisting on the same photo shoots. We’ve been good friends for years, often recommending each other for jobs. Having Joe on board immediately made me feel calmer—and more confident that, at the very least, the film was going to look good.

And it is does look really good, but it also just is really good. I’m proud of it.

Ian would come to New York whenever he could, and I’d arrange for us to spend time with some of the families I’d met over the years. We’d photograph them, interview them, and enjoy a ride.

I won’t get into what’s else is in the in the film now that I’ve spoiled the first 20 minutes with the origin story.

Along the way, Ian tapped into a talented pool of Canadians who helped us make the film the best it could be. They don’t even seem to hold it against us that we’re shitty neighbors.

Now that the film is done(ish), we have to figure out how to share it.

I’m assuming that if you’ve read this far, you might be interested in seeing the film? And maybe you’d be willing to help us spread the word—or even donate a little money? We take American and Canadian dollars, and everything else too, I think. Here’s the link again. 

We’re premiering the film in Toronto in October, and it should be available to stream sometime in the months ahead. I won’t say where yet because we haven’t signed anything, but I’m pretty confident you’ll be able to see it.

In the meantime, it would mean a lot to me if you shared this post, shared the fundraiser, or just told someone you think might be interested. Maybe they’re into photography. Or trains. Maybe they’re autistic, or have friends or family who are. Maybe they just like cool shots of New York City. We’ve got those too.

And if you have ideas about places we should submit the film, organizations we should reach out to, or somewhere we should screen it, we’re open to all possibilities.

Thanks so much,

Travis

Oh!

If you’d like to follow along on Instagram, we’ll be sharing updates there, a lot.

Joe Tomcho

Marley is on Instagram, so follow her, but also follow her dad Tony, he posts a lot of her art, which is hard to describe, it includes a lot of lists written on paper plates, and it is wonderful.


END TRANSMISSION! SEE YOU NEXT WEEK WITH SOME EXCITING NEWS ABOUT OUR  WORLD! PREMIERE!