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Fox’s New Survival Show ‘Extracted’ Has a Sinister Twist

Fred Dreier — Thu, 13 Feb 2025 12:00:54 +0000

Things are not going well for Woody.

The 50-year-old retired cop is thirsty and exhausted, and his attempts to spark a campfire using a ferro rod have failed miserably. Now, Woody can’t boil his drinking water. He stands in his barren campsite and raises a canteen filled with untreated pond water to his lips. “Lord, please don’t let me get sick,” he says into a camera.

The shot cuts to the cozy confines of a television studio. Woody’s son, Blake, and his nephew, Colin watch him gulp down the nasty beverage on a massive television screen. Colin shakes his head and buries his face in his palms.

And, cut!

This scene is the climax of episode 1 of ��ٰ��ٱ��,��a new outdoor survival show that debuted on Fox this past Monday. I recently watched the opening episode, as well as advanced screeners for episodes two and three, with my mouth agape. As a longtime fan of wilderness survival shows—you know, programs like Alone, Naked and Afraid, and Man vs. Wild—Extracted marks a stark turning point for the genre. Apparently, TV producers are now shipping everyday schmoes with zero wilderness training into the backwoods and filming them as they contract Giardia. And they’re doing this for our entertainment.

A contestant named Woody on ‘Extracted’ (Photo: Fox/Extracted)

This element isn’t even the weirdest part of Extraction—not by a long shot. The show’s central premise is like an psychological experiment.

Twelve “survivalists”—yes I use this term lightly—are plucked from small-town American and shipped off to a forested lake somewhere in British Columbia. They must stay there as long as possible, and the last one to remain wins $250,000. Producers have affixed dozens of surveillance cameras to the trees, rocks, and stumps in the area so we can spy on the 12 as they go about their business of building shelter, procuring food, going to the bathroom, and screaming into the void.

But here’s the real twist. A short distance away, producers have erected a TV studio, and each survivalist’s family members are stationed there, where they watch the action unfold 24 hours a day. At random points throughout the show, the family members are able to pack up survival gear—knives, cans of beans, bear spray—which are then delivered via flying drone to their loved one.

The survivalists themselves cannot tap out. That job can only be done by the family members in the studio. A family member must march to the center of the studio and push a big and ridiculous red button that says EXTRACT.

Family members stay in a studio and watch the action (Photo: Fox/Extracted)

I won’t spoil the show, other than to say that this single rule creates the tension at the heart of����ٰ��ٱ��.��Contestants beg to be removed, but their loved ones don’t always comply.

While watching��Extracted I often thought about Blair Braverman’s recent column about our collective affection for survival TV. Braverman, herself a former contestant on��Naked and Afraid,��makes more than a few pointed conclusions about why the TV genre is so beloved: watching people in nature is relaxing; survival connects us to our hunter-gatherer roots; we love cheering for and against characters; watching the battle to survive is inherently relatable to everyday people.

“Negotiating jobs, health insurance, child and elder care, housing? That’s all survival, viscerally so,” Braverman wrote.

Alas, I fear that the survival genre is quickly moving away from the themes Braverman adores. Extracted comes on the heels of Netflix releasing its first two seasons of its own survival game show ��ܳٱ��.��Both shows tap into emotions that are more sinister, and psychological reflexes inside us that are more ominous.

��Outlast, the survivalists wage psychological war on each other throughout the season by switching teams, stealing gear, and destroying shelters, all for a chance at cash. The cameras focus on this drama, and it triggers some lobe inside our lizard brains.

Extracted isn’t quite as extreme, but the format of the show makes it feel dramatically different from Alone �ǰ��Naked and Afraid. ����ٰ��ٱ��,��the audience views everyday people as they watch their loved ones suffer in nature. The tension created by these relationship drives our intrigue. We see caring mothers and fathers fail to deliver the survival goods that their cold and hungry son requires. We watch a divorced couple argue and question their parenting decisions as their teenage��son acts like a toddler in the woods.

Sure, there are moments of joy and triumph as well. But Extracted is still a voyeuristic look into a person watching a loved one in peril. As I watched it, I felt as though I was the scientist staring through reflective glass at a psychological experiment. It’s no wonder that the frames linger on the black surveillance cameras dotting the forest.

That said,��Extracted has something that Outlast lacks—at least through its first three episodes. By choosing novice (or downright inept) survivalists, the show is legitimately funny, and more relatable than other survival shows. In episode one, we meet the contestants, and quickly learn that all of them will be fish out of water in the Canadian wilderness.

One woman, Davina, 41, is described as a hairdresser and a professional clown. “I think she’s lost her mind,” her sister, Devin, says into the camera.”She’s been given everything her entire life by my parents and now her husband. He probably wipes her ass.” A few scenes later we see Davina sitting by the lake, bemoaning her experience outdoors. By this point, she’s been in the woods for a little more than a day. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” she wails.

I’ll admit,����ٰ��ٱ��made me laugh more than a few times, and that’s why I plan to complete the series. I have no clue whether watching it will change my relationship with the outdoors, or with my loved ones.

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My Experience on ‘Naked and Afraid’ Showed Me Why We Keep Watching Survival Reality TV

awise — Mon, 10 Feb 2025 19:20:37 +0000

Leslie Gaynor, 68, loves survival shows. After she finishes her day’s work as a therapist, she makes herself some tea and puts on an episode of Naked and Afraid. By the time the show’s over, it’s dark out. Her dog has to pee, but she doesn’t like to go outside at night. What if there are wild animals in the yard? One time last year, her dog ran out and saw a possum, and the possum flopped over dead, and when she went out a few minutes later it was gone. So it wasn’t really dead, but the whole thing was traumatic anyway. Not for the possum. But for her.

Leslie’s my aunt, and my husband and I were both on Naked and Afraid; we’re outdoor folk by trade, and when we were invited to apply for the show, we couldn’t resist the opportunity to step into a ready-made adventure. That’s not why my aunt watches it, though. She was a fan first. “I can’t really explain it,” she told me after we watched a scene together of a proud, hungry woman plucking a grouse for stew. “I just think it’s relaxing!”

Leslie’s not the only one who finds survival shows addictive. Ever since Survivor premiered in 2000, and promptly became one of the highest-rated shows on network television, survival-themed reality shows and their spinoffs have reproduced like rabbits. In addition to Naked and Afraid, there’s Alone, Survivor, Dual Survival, Survivorman, Ultimate Survival, Man vs. Wild,, Race to Survive, Outlast, and Celebrity Bear Hunt, not to mention numerous spinoffs and international versions. (My personal favorite title? Naked and Afraid’s Shark Week special, Naked and Afraid of Sharks.) Sure, some of their viewers are outdoorsy, but the shows aren’t just made for survivalists any more than shows about serial killers are made for, well, other serial killers. No: what makes survival shows so popular is that, while they depict extreme situations, the feelings they tap into are damn near universal.

“There aren’t many shows that are really truly unscripted, and where you can see real emotions, like craving for fish, or craving to be with a loved one.”

There’s pleasure in seeing someone succeed despite hardship—and there’s also pleasure (maybe more) in watching someone fail spectacularly, particularly if they went in cocky. Whenever a survivalist’s intro includes them sayingany version of the phrase “making nature my bitch,” you know they’re gonna get their ass handed to them. It’s just a matter of when and how.

“Some guy’s hungry, or cut himself with his knife, and it’s time to tap,” says my husband, Quince Mountain, who survived 21 days—mostly alone—in the Honduran jungle. (We were on the show at the same time, but were sent to different locations.) “He’s crying because he misses his wife and kids too much, but he says it like, ‘It’s really unfair to them, me being out here…’ Is that his epiphany about how his wife does massive amounts of invisible labor to keep his life comfortable, and now he’s going home a changed man, a grateful, devoted, humble partner—or is it his excuse because he’s hungry and lonely and doesn’t know how to take care of himself? You decide!”

In one of the most popular survival shows, Alone, participants film themselves in complete isolation without knowing how many of the other contestants are still out there. The show premiered in 2015, but viewership soared in 2020 when select seasons became available on Netflix and Hulu. “With COVID, there was a lot of interest because of the isolation aspect,” recalls Juan Pablo Quiñonez, author of the survival book , who won Alone’s season 9 after surviving 78 days in Labrador with a strategy of fasting, drinking unboiled water, and hunkering down to rest. “There aren’t many shows that are really truly unscripted, and where you can see real emotions, like craving for fish, or craving to be with a loved one. How often do we get to see someone catch a fish after five days without food? These moments are super powerful.”

He believes that we’re all hunter-gatherers at heart, and that survival shows—and wilderness survival in general—connect us to an ancestral legacy that feels both vital and familiar. “There might be strong feelings on The Bachelor, but it’s definitely not as real.”

As much as skeptics in online forums might debate the authenticity of their favorite shows (a common theory centers around the idea that when people are getting too weak, production will leave a dead animal in one of their traps), it’s hard for viewers to dismiss the fact that at least something real is happening onscreen. People don’t lose 20 pounds in three weeks without going awfully hungry, and a lot of the effects of survival—sunburn, frostbite, open wounds—are physically undeniable. There are even ways that being on a show can be harder than plain old survival. Camera crews inadvertantly scare away game, and interrupt survivors for interviews, even when they’re beyond exhausted. Plus, the survivors are usually limited by geographic barriers that have little to do with what’s actually practical or effective. You’re ravenous, searching for any darn calories, and finally spot some berries in a clearing that’s off-limits? Too bad, so sad. This isn’t just survival, it’s a show, and you gotta perform for both.

It’s about watching our everyday adversity reflected back to us, but distilled into a pure form.

Another factor in their proliferation is that survival shows—and reality shows in general—are economical to produce. “The reason that unscripted TV came out of the gate so strongly is that it’s cheaper,” says Rachel Maguire, who’s been an international showrunner and executive producer for Naked and Afraid and Dual Survival. “You don’t have high-paid actors. There are no writers. The cast is generally not union.” Although, she adds upon reflection, Naked and Afraid does have awfully pricey accidental death and dismemberment insurance.

Her theory as to why the genre’s so popular? People are increasingly aware of instability in the world—including a steep increase in natural disasters due to climate change—and watching survival shows helps them feel prepared.

I agree with Quiñonez and Maguire, but I also think there’s another instinctive appeal. We worry about extraordinary disasters, but we worry about problems in our lives just as much, and usually more. Survival shows are addictive because much of our daily life is also about struggling to meet our basic needs, and we feel that stress even when we can’t name it. Negotiating jobs, health insurance, child and elder care, housing? That’s all survival, viscerally so. And so watching people get shelter by building it from scratch, and food by catching it in a handmade trap, isn’t about watching them go through challenges that are completely disconnected from our own. It’s about watching our everyday adversity reflected back to us, but distilled into a pure form. We empathize when TV survivalists want to tap out; we cheer when they succeed. It’s relatable. It’s therapeutic. We know—deep down—that we’re all just trying to survive.

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‘Severance’ Made Me Reconsider My Commitment to Running

glarson — Sat, 08 Feb 2025 09:45:51 +0000

Within the last few weeks, I would bet my last that someone has asked you, “Do you watch Severance?” And if you said no or blinked back in confusion, I’m sure I’m not the first one to tell you that it’s incredible.

For the un-aquainted, , which first aired in 2022, is set in a futuristic era where a company called Lumon Industries has developed the biotechnology that allows its employees to ‘sever’ their brains into two personalities: your working self and your personal self. Severed people undergo a medical procedure that implants a device in their brain, which causes employees to forget everything about the outside world once they step foot into their work building. Likewise, once they leave, all the memories of what happened during the workday or gone. So in theory, there are “two” versions of yourself, one who works, and one who doesn’t.

After years of anticipation, season two episode one premiered on January 17. And in truth, it’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.

The brilliance of the show is that it touches on themes of work-life balance, workplace culture, political expression, and the meaning of memory and community. It makes you think about what life would be like if you had the option to be severed. You’d never have to feel the stress or exhaustion of work ever again, and focus solely on your personal life. On the other hand, you technically create this whole other “you” that knows nothing about yourself or the outside world—just the four walls of your cubicle. As I watch season two as a new episode is released week by week, I start to wonder how being severed would apply to other areas of my life—like running.

RELATED:

Would You Sever Your Running Self?

What if, as soon as I slipped on my running shoes, my severed self stepped in and took on all the grunt work? Say one day I’m not looking forward to a tough workout in the cold. If I had a severed running side, I wouldn’t have to feel the bitter chill, climb tortuous hill repeats, or endure huffing through race pace miles. I’d step outside in my shoes, and in the blink of an eye, be done and back inside for a post-run snack. I’d reap the rewards of building my endurance and athleticism for fun races and routes without needing to suffer through the not-so-fun parts of a training block.

The fictional scenario sounds tempting. “But running is supposed to be fun!” You might say. “If you don’t love it, don’t do it!” Yeah, yeah, yeah. I agree. But if you’ve ever trained for a race, you know there are days when you wish you’d picked an easier hobby. Here are some instances in which I wish I was severed:

When my alarm goes off at 5 A.M. for my early run and I’m snuggled in bed, sleeping on the cool side of the pillow.
When I’m running through pouring-down rain so heavy I’m open-mouth breathing like a carp.
When I have to run up a hill that forces me into near slow-motion pace.
When I run out of water during a blistering hot run.
When the run is so sticky and muggy that I have to peel off the gnats that got stuck to my face one by one.

Long runs in the pouring rain and speed intervals in the frigid snow are just a few moments I wish I could sever myself.�� (Photo: Mallory Arnold)

Turns out the reason why people endure tough, less-than-enjoyable things can be explained by the a theory conceptualized by psychologist Michael Inzlicht from the University of Toronto. The paradox suggests that effort can be both costly and valuable, that, although our genetic makeup pushes us to choose survival above all else (which often does not require climbing high mountains or running long distances), humans have evolved to sometimes choose difficulty over ease.

I asked Inzlicht what the repercussions would be of severing yourself for say, marathon training.

“While it might seem appealing to skip the grueling training and just enjoy being race-ready, our research suggests this would likely diminish the overall experience,” Inzlicht says. “We’ve found that effort, despite being aversive in the moment, serves as a crucial source of meaning and satisfaction.”

He says that behavioral studies show that people value achievements more when they require significant effort. That rush of emotion you get after a race might not feel as powerful if you didn’t spend months of a training block working for it.

“By removing the experience of effort, we might be removing what makes achievements feel truly significant,” Inzlicht says. “The struggle itself becomes part of the story and identity. “

This was one of the hottest and toughest long runs I’ve ever endured, but I’ll remember it forever. (Photo: Mallory Arnold)

It reminds me of the famous , a study conducted by a psychologist named Walter Mischel in 1970. Mischel would place a marshmallow in front of a child (of preschool age) and tell them that if they waited to eat it, they would be rewarded with a second marshmallow later. The results found that more children were willing to wait longer (the more difficult option) in order to reap the higher reward. Similarly, runners are willing to experience the lows of training because the feeling of crossing the finish line is so powerful.

The study also found that the children who resisted the marshmallow were more likely to be patient in the future and better prepared for “difficult” aspects of life. The same could be said for enduring those tough parts of running. shows that runners, (especially ultramarathoners) have higher levels of self-efficacy compared to those who don’t run, which significantly impacts motivation, commitment, and self-control. also report that, because these kinds of runners have strong mental fortitude, they have more efficient emotion regulation strategies, stress-coping mechanisms, and experience less anxiety.

To me, the most glaring part of this research is that most of the time, runners aren’t born with this extra mental fortitude, but it’s developed through the constant repeated action of enduring hard things like waking up at the crack of dawn, running through the sleet and snow, and tackling scary steep hills.

So if I severed myself, I might not have the same mental toughness that I have today. The same mindset that has helped me tackle problems outside of running, helped me navigate the daily stressors of life, and grow confident enough to seek bigger goals and challenges. In fact, counterintuitively, not suffering through those days when I hate running may ultimately make me love running less.

Of course, the whole scenario is fictional, and so coming to this conclusion might seem sort of inconsequential. But this thought exercise reminds me that it’s important to understand why we invest so much time and energy into this silly hobby of ours. It helps us appreciate running even on those crappy days, and it’s what gets us through the inevitable lows that come during that race that we train for all year.

Plus, who knows how far biotechnology advancements will go? Maybe severing will one day be a real option. At least now, I’ve made my decision far in advance.

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Kevin Costner Wants Americans to Care About the National Parks

Fred Dreier — Thu, 06 Feb 2025 22:31:23 +0000

Earlier this year, a PR rep from Fox News asked if I’d want to review the conservative network’s upcoming docuseries on the history of Yosemite National Park. Called Yellowstone to Yosemite with Kevin Costner, the three-part series is the brainchild of the Academy Award-winning actor, and the follow up to his 2022 series . As I stared at the email, I wondered: What can Fox News teach me about the importance of the national parks? As it turns out, a lot. But their approach delivered a few surprises.

Yellowstone to Yosemite, which airs Saturday, February 8 on Fox’s streaming service, Fox Nation, tells the often-repeated story of a 1903 camping trip that then-U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt took with naturalist John Muir through Yosemite. Over four days and three nights, the��two men yukked it up around the campfire, admired the soaring monoliths and waterfalls, and became friends. Similarly, Costner, now 70, embarks on his own camping trip within Yosemite as he narrates the story.

In the first episode, Costner quickly establishes the significance of Roosevelt and Muir’s campout. It’s May, 1903, more than 30 years since Yellowstone was established as the first national park. Five other parcels of land have become national parks, but the designation has done little to actually protect their ecosystems. Loggers are plundering giant sequoias in Yosemite and poachers are decimating bison herds in Yellowstone. The federal government, meanwhile, lacks the teeth to stop them. “Congress saw the national parks as a zero-cost initiative. Each park has an unpaid superintendent responsible for enforcing regulations,” Costner says. “It’s not working at all.”

Muir, the famed naturalist, believes the only way to save America’s parklands is by harnessing the power of the president. He invites Roosevelt to Yosemite to show him the wonders of the park up-close, before pitching him on the bold idea of actually protecting the six natural wonders.

And we’re off—over three 45-minute episodes Costner tells the story of the camping trip while weaving in other historic anecdotes and ecological tidbits about Yosemite National Park. Yep, there’s a heroic mini-biography of Teddy Roosevelt. There are Nature Channel-worthy segments about the lifecycle of a Sequoia and the geologic forces that carved the valley. Costner name drops Lynn Hill as the first rock climber to free climb the Nose of El Capitan. There’s even a reenactment of the massacre of Miwok tribespeople that preempted their forced removal from Yosemite in 1851.

But as the docuseries unfolds, Costner also performs some rhetorical jiujitsu that muddies the current political divide around a few topics. He frames the conservation movement as inherently patriotic, and funding the national parks as part of our American heritage. He presents the corporate interests of industry as evil, and the seizing of land from Tribes as cruel. He even tells the viewer that the reintroduction of grey wolves—a wedge issue in many Western states—is something that Roosevelt, a Republican icon, would have supported.

Costner presents these perspectives with a sincere tone that lacks any hint of cynicism or moral superiority. After praising John Muir for advocating on behalf of Yosemite’s trees and rivers, Costner lays down in his sleeping bag as the temperature plummets. “God I love this country,” he says. “Everything about it. Even the cold.”

Costner’s melding of these concepts—patriotism, conservation, American heritage, and honoring Indigenous tribes—helps him sell a contemporary vision to his audience: national parks are worthy of our protection and our tax dollars.

Sure, Costner’s sincerity and mythical retelling of a camping trip may inspire some eye rolls. Still,��I couldn’t help but admire his approach. Perhaps somewhere in Yellowstone to Yosemite is a playbook for bridging the political divide when we debate protecting National Monuments from drilling, or the reintroduction of apex predators, or why we should save endangered species. I don’t watch Fox News, but my parents do, and I firmly believe that they would love Yellowstone to Yosemite, even though it’s essentially a three-hour pitch for the environmental movement.

Costner’s story concludes on a high note. Roosevelt is inspired by Muir, and after he’s reelected he signs the Antiquities Act of 1906, which grants him the power to protect federal lands. He sends the U.S. military to defend the national parks, and he establishes a series of national monuments to honor the legacies of indigenous tribes.

I recently asked Costner about the balancing act in Yellowstone to Yosemite, and whether it was challenging to blend so many disparate socio-political themes in an hour-and-a-half program�� He brushed the question aside with a laugh. You can read my interview below.

Why Kevin Costner Wanted to Tell the Story of Yosemite National Park

OUTSIDE: Why did you want to tell this story in 2025?
Costner: I was not waiting for the right year to tell this story. I recently did the film Horizon and I thought of it back in 1988. With Yellowstone: One Fifty, I realized that we just don’t know our history and the intricacies of the routes we drive and the mountains we look at. With Yosemite, we all think we know the park. But I knew there was a story to tell about Roosevelt and Muir. In this 30-year span after the creation of Yellowstone, there was nobody who could actually protect the parks. Nobody took into account that it would would take manpower and a governmental body to actually protect them. I like these parts of history that seem obvious, but aren’t. And this story had plenty of these elements, so I had a sense that I wanted to share it. I wanted to start with the Native Americans—even if we’re going to highlight Roosevelt and Muir, it was important for me to go that distance and to talk about original inhabitants. I wanted to tell viewers just how tragic things were for them. They’re always in our history and we somehow forget them. They are a part of Yosemite as much as any story we tell.

But I also wanted to show how these two men, of like minds, each had a level of poetry in them that helped them understand that saving the parks was the right thing. I wanted to tell this story without beating people on the the head. I wanted to educate them.

Your story navigates more than a few political topics that are still debated today, such as funding the NPS, reintroducing apex predators, and the constant tug-of-war between protecting federal lands and opening them to drilling or logging. How did you navigate these without seeming partisan?
Ha. I don’t care where the chips fall, and I’m honestly not that careful. I’m not looking to present a side here, I’m just looking to tell the story of who was doing what, who was saying what, and what actually happened. This project isn’t catered to any crowd. It had to get above my bar in terms of its intellectual literature. And I felt like we told the version of the story that I set out to tell. I don’t talk down to my audience or around them. I honestly don’t see the world as being dangerous when I’m telling historical truth. You have to tell the story with all of its warts. Other people might be worried about what I’m going to say. But I didn’t ever worry about it. I never had a single thought about this.

This is your second project around the U.S. National Parks. What about the Parks has attracted your interest in storytelling?
I’m really pleased that national parks are an American idea. Today there are like 1400 national parks around the world, but we set the tone. We came up with the idea that the land could have a higher economic use than just exploiting it—that some day, people would come and visit. But when I think of environmentalism, it isn’t just about the fish in the streams, and the trees. It’s also about the connection to the past. That I can walk where other people walked 100 years ago. And also, to know that a place like Yosemite will be the same forever. And to know that these places aren’t just enjoyed by the wealthy, that everyone can enjoy them. Setting aside land for a national park is such a simple idea, but in reality it takes a fierce attitude to move an idea to being practical, especially when money is at stake.

You’ve spent several decades telling stories about the American West, from��Dances With Wolves to��Yellowstone.��What is it about the West that continually sparks your imagination?
I stumble on these stories, and I know that I’m only going to be able to tell so many of the in my lifetime. Right now I’m flirting with a very historical project that I’ll probably do, and it’s right in the vein of what you’re talking about, but I can’t discuss it here. As Americans, we think we know our history, but you never really know that much about it until you dig down. We read about the Native Americans somewhere in the fourth grade, like one chapter in one book, and that’s it. All of Yosemite was on the backs of people who were exterminated. This great park came on the heels of shipping them off to a river where they would die in anonymity. And they’re not even on a sign anywhere.

We rarely get down to what is human about them. I think that Yosemite gets down to what is human about John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt. People can be touched by the truth. They can be affected by lies, but they can be truly touched by the truth.

This interview was edited for space and clarity.��

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The Wild Similarities Between the Show ‘Yellowstone’ and Real Life in the Mountain West

awise — Thu, 14 Nov 2024 19:10:38 +0000

I started watching the hugely popular TV series Yellowstone in 2020, during the height of the COVID pandemic. By then, there were multiple seasons available, and my husband and I had nothing but time. We were hooked.

We’re not the only ones. The second half of Season 5, which came out on November 11, saw more than . Only NFL football had than Yellowstone last season. Character names like Rip and Dutton have seen exponential increases in their use for newborn babies. And, as the recently reported, Americans really want their own piece of the Yellowstone landscape, and the show may be partly to blame.

Which got me thinking: How much of the show is based in reality, and is it really affecting what’s happening in the West? The show is over-the-top melodrama, but writer and co-creator Taylor Sheridan obviously chose real-life conflicts in Montana and other western states to base the plot on. Here are four ways the show bears more resemblance to reality than a casual fan might realize.

1. The Series Suggests Big Developers Will Stop at Nothing to Broker Land “Deals”—That May Be True.

In Yellowstone, the Duttons are constantly navigating nefarious plots to seize their ranch by out-of-state land development interests. Some, it seems, will stop at nothing to dispossess the family in order to capitalize on the value of their land, creating ridiculously violent scenes.

In real life, there is example after example of complicated land deals in Montana and the West in which developments for the wealthy take up premier land. The Yellowstone Club, which is just north of Yellowstone National Park in Big Sky, Montana, has been a bastion for the ultra-wealthy since it opened in the late nineties. Boasting “private powder” and ruthlessly protected privacy for its members, among other features, the Club was created through swaps with the Forest Service, which turned a checkerboard of public and private land into consolidated acreage for the Club’s founder, Tim Blixseth.

While the Yellowstone Club is already controversial among Montanans (few of whom can afford the steep costs of membership, which involve a , annual club dues of $36,000, and annual property owners association dues of $10,000), it’s also trying to expand into a contentious area of the Crazy Mountains. As Ben Ryder Howe reported in New York magazine’s , a group of billionaires associated with the Club has been maneuvering to privatize contested swaths of land that yield access to the Crazies for some time. The Forest Service, ranchers, the Native Crow, the general public, and the Yellowstone Club all seem to have a stake in the outcome.

Bozeman, Montana, has experienced rapid growth over the last decade, jumping from a population of 39,808 in 2013 to 57,305 in 2023. (Photo: DianeBentleyRaymond/Getty)

2. Places Like Bozeman, Montana, Really Are Becoming Overrun with Furs and Fancy Cars.

I know folks who live in Bozeman, and I’ve read plenty of the reporting we’ve done here at ��ϳԹ�� (and elsewhere) related to life in mountain towns like Bozeman, where affordable housing shortages, the aftermath of a global pandemic, remote work, and the glamorization of mountain lifestyles have created a rich broth of income inequality that is apparent as you navigate the city.

Writing in 2022 for ��ϳԹ��, Maggie Slepian, who has been based in Bozeman for more than a decade, noted the visual changes on the town and the landscape that were being wrought by the influx of new, wealthy, second-home residents. Watching Yellowstone, some of the fashions my beloved Beth Dutton opted for on her runs to town struck me as a bit much even for her unparalleled character. (Silky sheaths beneath a luxe full-length fur coat, anyone?)

Sartorial considerations aside, affordability remains a major issue, and Yellowstone focuses primarily on the more glamorous troubles a family that owns the largest ranch in the area would face, not on the person being priced out of their apartment or the family acknowledging that they’ll never be able to swing it for a single family home.

3. The Duttons Struggle to Afford Their Ranch. So Do Many Real Families.

In the years since Yellowstone premiered, a number of outlets have interviewed real generational ranchers in Montana to get a sense of their view of the show. The dynamics among the family itself often get highlighted as one of the most believable elements. In an Variety from 2023, a third-generation rancher from Idaho, Jesse Jarvis, highlights the familial dysfunction as one of the most realistic elements of the show.

The Duttons’ interpersonal conflicts are largely driven by the struggle to afford their 700,000-acre ranch. In real life, the total number of farms and ranches in Montana is down 10.3 percent from 2017, from 2022. And with continued interest from developers to obtain large tracts of land in the area, it seems likely land and home prices will continue to rise. Recent data from the indicates a consistent increase of cropland value in Montana from 2012 on. And this is to say nothing of the capital needed to operate a large-scale ranch.

4. Indigenous Land Is Being Acquired and Compromised by Development.

Fans of Yellowstone see complex dynamics of power and history at play in the dealings of the Duttons and others with the fictional Broken Rock Indian Tribe. As the screw twists and turns, the Broken Rock, led on the show by the Chairman Thomas Rainwater, find themselves on both the dealing and receiving ends of bad land deals and villainous behavior from local and out-of-state actors. This contemporary dispossession of Indigenous people fits into the long and violent history in which legal and extralegal measures are taken by those in power to forcibly remove Indigenous inhabitants from their land.

To cite a recent real example, you can look again to the Crazy Mountains in Montana. The Crazies are filled with significant and sacred sites for the Native Crow. In the current proposal for there, private land prevents the Crow from visiting many of these sites without permission from the landowner. ��ܳٲ��’s reporting on the Yaak Valley offers another illustrative example of these dynamics.

There’s likely much more to say about the real power dynamics in the Mountain West and the fights for public lands that overlap with some of what you see on the small screen in Tyler Sheridan’s fantasy universe. As they say, truth can really be stranger than fiction.

Ryleigh Nucilli got a master’s degree and half of a PhD in literature and culture from the University of Oregon before leaving to pursue a career in digital media. She loves reading and writing about the intersection of popular media and culture.

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The Ultimate View

elessard — Mon, 28 Oct 2024 10:57:53 +0000

It’s time to flip the script on the experience of watching movies. Gone are the days when you’d need to stay at home to tee up a movie or bingeable series from your couch. Whether you’re in a remote campsite, a friend’s backyard, or your own living room, Samsung screens turn anywhere into the ultimate, immersive home theater. Now, you don’t need to go where the best setup is, because it can be wherever you are.

That’s why we’re sending a select group of friends on the road to watch iconic films in the epic outdoor locations that inspired them. Guess where they’re headed, and you could win a select Samsung screen to stage your own watch-anywhere party. Here’s how it works:

Geo-Guessing Challenge

This fall, three ��ϳԹ�� ambassadors are spreading out across the country, setting up shop in mystery locations connected to their favorite movies. They’ll create an immersive movie viewing setup in unique locations (thanks to Samsung screens!), and share images and clues to help you guess where they are. After all, what’s more iconic than watching��The Goonies��in an Oregon cave, or Jaws on a beach in Martha’s Vineyard?

Not much, says James Fishler, Chief Executive of Samsung Home Entertainment, who’s logged dozens of van-based road trips from the Catskills to the Adirondacks and down to Assateague Island. “I love getting outdoors any chance I get, and I also love nothing more than setting up a movie night—especially if it’s an old classic like one my favorites, Harry and the Hendersons,” Fishler says. “With Samsung, there’s no reason I can’t do both!

“Whether I’m at home, on-the-go, or anywhere in between, our cutting-edge lineup of Samsung screens let you upscale every moment and deliver the ultimate viewing experience,” adds Fishler, pictured below. “The world becomes your theater, and your theater transforms into the world you’re watching.”

Here’s How It Works:

Starting on October 28, we’ll launch the first in a series of��three challenges, dropping clues and photos to give everyone a chance to guess the locations. At the end of each challenge, ambassadors will post a reel revealing where they are. Guess correctly, and you’ll be entered into a sweepstakes to win a cutting-edge Samsung screen (more below).

New to geo-guessing? No problem. We’ve enlisted professional Google Maps player , the best in the biz, to help make this challenge fun and accessible for everyone.

Episode 1

First up, we’ll tag along with Caziah “Caz” Franklin, the road-tripping renaissance man who seeks to capture the deeper essence of adventure. With his Ford Bronco, Caz is eager to spend nights under the stars between iconic national parks and wild campsites off the beaten path. Equipped with Samsung screens to join the adventure, he’ll showcase a creative theater experience, no matter how rugged the road to get there. Check out ��(plus��and��) on Oct. 28 for the first clues about his secret screening spot.

View this post on Instagram

“We had an incredible time filming with the Freestyle by Samsung,” notes Caz, impressed with the projector’s compact design and performance. “It’s the ultimate piece of gear for those who want to unite cinema and nature—living up to its name, offering versatile, high-quality entertainment anywhere.”

Samsung Screens

The geo-guessing prize? One of these Samsung screens, all perfectly equipped to elevate your next active viewing experience.

: Pick a spot, any spot. This portable projector brings your favorite content to life anywhere you choose: from the walls, to the ceiling, to the side of your home. Weighing less than two pounds, it’s more compact and lightweight than a pair of hiking boots; easily take it with you for all of your travels, whether it’s across the country or just across the yard. Stream¹must-watch shows and movies in Full HD on a screen that can project up to 100”. Play thousands of the top gaming titles from partners like Xbox – no console required². It’s even compatible with external USB-connected battery banks³, so you can roam freely while staying connected.

: Turn every movie night (or day!) into an epic, open-air entertainment experience with this outdoor-optimized TV. Its screen is engineered to look vivid and bright, even in daylight⁴. Its Wide Viewing Angle and Anti-Glare screen makes it easy to watch what you love from any seat, eliminating distractions and ensuring a clear picture. It boasts an IP56 rating for durability so you can enjoy your favorite content outside throughout the seasons.

:��Experience all of your favorite movies and shows across both light��and dark rooms with nearly no glare, thanks to the Samsung S95D series. This TV’s screen is optimized with Glare-Free technology to bring every scene to life with the purest blacks, brightest whites, and Pantone®-validated color.

: Life’s biggest adventures deserve the biggest screens. That’s why Samsung offers a super big lineup of 98-inch-class screens, designed to transform every movie night into the ultimate view. Not all big screens are created equal, though —but the Samsung lineup is built with advanced Supersize Picture Enhancer⁵, a feature that can help you clearly see every detail on screen without any distortion or blur, even at the 98-inch size (*available on 85” Class TVs Q80D and above, and all 98” Class TVs).

¹Includes Samsung SmartHub by Wi-Fi; additional external content by Micro HDMI port (adapter/cables not included) and compatible devices with AirPlay 2, SmartThings’ Tap View.
²High speed internet connection, additional gaming service subscriptions and compatible controller required.
³External battery sold separately, needs to support USB Power Delivery and 60W/20V output or above.
⁴The Terrace Full Sun panel is protected up to 6 hours in sunlight at 700 watts and 104 degrees Fahrenheit; brightness may decrease to protect panel with other high temperature and sunlight conditions. The Terrace Partial Sun is designed for placement and use in outdoor shaded environments. The TV can be exposed to ambient or non-direct sunlight, but direct sunlight must be avoided.
⁵Supersize Picture Enhancer is available on 85” Class TVs Q80D and above, and all 98” Class TVs.

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Netflix Nails Season Two of ‘Outlast’

Fred Dreier — Sun, 01 Sep 2024 11:27:32 +0000

Do you believe in second chances?

When it comes to TV shows, I generally do not. I quit��Lost midway through its baffling sixth season, and flicked off Weeds when it jumped the shark in year four. Life is too short to watch bad entertainment.

So, when the communications department at Netflix asked if I’d watch advanced screeners for the second season of its survival-reality show , my initial reaction was “hard pass.” A year ago, I eagerly streamed Outlast’s��inaugural season, excited to learn whether the program’s unique format—survivalists band together in teams rather than go it alone—would create a more enthralling watch than Alone or Naked and Afraid.

I was mortified when season one of Outlast devolved into a mean-spirited blend of Lord of the Flies and��The Hunger Games. The survivalists waged warfare on each other, raiding each others’ makeshift shelters, taunting each other, and screwing each other over whenever the opportunity arose. They contestants who received the most airtime were also the most sinister and caustic. By the final episode, I wondered if there would be a human sacrifice. Watching it was like eating week-old pizza—unhealthy and guaranteed to make you sick.

Participants on ‘Outlast’ must hunt or forage for food. (Photo: Netflix)

Blame boredom or morbid curiosity—for whatever reason I said yes to Outlast’s��second season and binge watched all eight episodes over the course of three evenings. I’m happy to report that my brain and digestive track are fine. Yep, somehow, someway,��Outlast��righted the ship in its second outing. And now, the program has become a must-watch for anyone who loves survival shows.

Spoilers Ahead

Season two opens in similar fashion: 16 survivalists are dropped in the remote Alaska wilderness, and one by one they tell the camera how badly they need the $1 million prize purse. Suddenly, a helicopter flies overhead and drops them the rules of the game.

They must split into teams of four, head in opposite directions to their respective campsites, and use the handful of survival tools to build shelter and catch food. Participants can change teams, but they cannot go solo. Anyone can tap out by simply shooting a pink flare into the sky. Whichever team survives the longest splits the cash.

After the truly cringe-worthy scene of choosing the teams (skip it), the opening episode immediately reveals a tonal difference from season one. A contestant sneaks into a different team’s campsite and steals their pots and pans. “I’m confiscating these,” he tells the bewildered victims. Aggressive activity like this was pretty standard in Outlast’s��opening season.

The Alaskan coastline provides shellfish and clams, but it’s also intensely cold (Photo: Netflix)

But then something unexpected occurs: the man’s teammates return the pilfered gear. Then, they huddle up and vote him out of the game. “I don’t believe you’re going to act in the best interest of the team,” a teammate tells him. The man appears dumbstruck by the decision as he fires his flare.

The series of events telegraphs the new philosophy of��Outlast in its second edition. Human beings aren’t the antagonists—that role is squarely occupied by Mother Nature.

This battle, which is familiar to seasoned fans of survival TV, creates the central tension of season two. Teams thrive and flail amid the damp and frigid Alaskan autumn. Some find food while others go hungry. Some build fire, others freeze. Yes, this is a team competition, so contestants bicker, argue, and struggle to navigate personality conflicts. And a few contestants change teams midway through the game.

But by and large, everyone is chill. And at some point, a viewer can relate to each participant’s personal struggle.

Of course this is survival TV, so as the season goes along contestants flare out due to hunger, sickness, or injuries. But nobody stabs anybody else in the back—figuratively or literally. I felt myself drawn in by what Outlast can teach viewers about group survival: the delineation of labor, the importance or rest, and the power of positivity.

Participants start in teams of four, but some drop out over time (Photo: Netflix)

I recently interviewed Mike Odair, Outlast’ showrunner, and asked how the production team toned things down. Did they enact a new rule forbidding violence or threats of violence? Nope—Odair said producers changed very little from season one. Odair said the casting department sought out a more diverse group from last year: more women, people of color, and participants of varying age. But otherwise, the show was the same.

Instead, Odair said the survivalists established the tone, irregardless of the production team.

“We didn’t go into season two thinking ‘how can we correct this?'” Odair said. “I think the luxury given to any second-season cast is that they’re going to see what their predecessors did.”

Odair added: “I think in season two people just decided how they wanted to play the game differently.” I’m glad they did.

I won’t spoil the finale.��But I will assure you that, much like��Alone,��after watching season two of��Outlast you may feel compelled to forage for mushrooms or build a lean-to in your backyard. You may learn something about the human condition, and the inherent challenges posed by teamwork. But you won’t want to puke.

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Why Do We Love Outdoor Survival TV? A Producer Weighs In.

Fred Dreier — Fri, 30 Aug 2024 15:01:57 +0000

I love outdoor survival shows, and over the past decade have watched far too many episodes of��Alone, Naked and Afraid,��and of course��Survivor,��to count. In 2023, I was excited to see Netflix launch its own program, called ��ܳٱ��.��The show added a few twists to the tried-and-true format, namely that contestants wage war on each other��through vandalism, theft, and psychological bullying. I wasn’t a huge fan of season one. But after the show aired, I was amazed by how much dialogue��Outlast .

Outlast returns for its second season on Wednesday, September 4. I recently spoke to the showrunner and executive producer Mike Odair about the show’s format, and how outdoor survival reality shows can stand out within the saturated genre.

‘Outlast’ showrunner Mike Odair (Photo: Netflix)

OUTSIDE: Outdoor survival shows have been around for more than 20 years. Why do you think audiences still tune in?
Odair: These shows get us at our most primal core. Some people in the audience are weekend warriors, others are couch potatoes, and others are hardened survivalists. Everybody wonders “could I do this?” And if the answer is no, then you start to wonder “what can I do to get this knowledge and skills?” There’s another part of it—no matter if you’re in the woods or in a tower downtown in corporate America, the instincts of survival and the cutthroat way these games are played are not that different.

The genre has become pretty crowded in recent years. How can a show stand out among so much competition?��
Do I get concerned that we’re making a show that’s a little outside of the pack of other survival shows? I think that’s how we make a mark. The fact that audiences are responding to the show is proof that it’s working. I think it comes back to the show’s origin. The reason this idea was so interesting to [executive producer] Jason Bateman was because he became a huge fan of��Alone during the pandemic. That was his foray into the survival community.

Our idea had some of the same DNA that Jason liked about��Alone,��which is that survival is up to you. But our idea added a twist—all you have to do is be on a team with at least one other person. The other survival game shows, dating back to��Survivor,��are games. Ours isn’t that. There’s just one rule. The rest of it—you can do whatever you want to survive. But this model shows you the best of humans as well as pretty dark stuff.

That’s what is different about our show. Like any social experiment, I can initiate a variable and see how the participants engage with it. But it’s not like I’m giving them a challenge that they must finish. If they choose to engage with what I give them is up to them.

Three participants build a fire during Netflix’s ‘Outlast’

How do you measure the show’s success or failure?��
From a creative and showrunning standpoint, I gauge success based on audience engagement. Are they talking about it online? Even though people had conflicting opinions and feelings about season 1 of Outlast,��the fact that I saw so many people arguing about the show on Reddit and referencing the right way and wrong way to live in nature made me feel it was successful. And if it weren’t for engagement, we wouldn’t be here right now.

I’ve always loved��Alone for its emphasis on verité-style storytelling. How much prodding or scripting do you give contestants on Outlast?��
We are 100-percent organic. There’s no scripting this. We do prompt the contestants to discuss on camera what they’re doing or feeling, which is normal. I have friends who work on Alone and they’ll still prompt participants with questions about clarity and then marry the footage with the audio so that the audience can understand a process.

The only difference is we have someone standing across from the contestants asking them the questions, instead of sending them a list and having them film themselves. But I can assure you there is no script. What you see is what you get—it’s raw. Now, I can introduce variables like giving them tools, which they don’t do in Alone.��But that’s really it.

Really? There were episodes of season two where I saw a contestant act completely crazy, just totally against logic and reason, and I assumed it was because they were being steered by a producer.��
Ha. I read feedback on these Reddit threads and saw people saying “Well, they clearly scripted this part of the show,” and I’m like nope. I know that a lot of audiences have a hard time believing what they see during a reality TV show. But sometimes, what happens out there in the wilderness is too weird to be scripted. People are exhausted and hungry. It may seem too bizarre or too perfect to not be scripted. But that’s what went on. We don’t put our thumb on the scale.

This interview was edited for length and clarity.��

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How the Perils of ‘Alone: Frozen’ Prepared Woniya Thibeault for Motherhood

irosario — Thu, 06 Jun 2024 10:00:10 +0000

Woniya Thibeault, the first female winner of the History Channel’s reality competition show Alone, always wanted to be a mother. But after she turned 46, having already experienced a miscarriage in her late thirties, she accepted��the possibility that she may never have children. In June of last year, Thibeault spoke about this difficult realization during a storytelling event . Her period was three days late, and she felt absolutely exhausted. She assumed the��excitement of promoting her new book, , was simply sapping her energy. Days later, Thibeault learned that she was pregnant. Her son, Hawthorn, was born in February.

As a longtime fan of Alone, I became enthralled by Thibeault after she tapped out from the shores of Great Slave Lake during season six. Her ability to listen to her body and respect her limits resonated with me and many other viewers. When she announced her pregnancy—only a year and half after she left the wilderness as the winner of Alone: Frozen—I knew that as a nature-lover and foraging enthusiast, there was a discussion to be had about the connection between pregnancy, motherhood, and surviving in the wilderness. I recently interviewed Thibeault on a video chat while she breastfed Hawthorn and then let him sleep on her shoulder. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

OUTSIDE: From two seasons of Alone to pregnancy and childbirth at 47, your body has endured a lot. Can you talk about this?
THIBEAULT: We had a traumatic birth. I had a C-section which was not remotely what I expected. I was angry with the doctor. Honestly, it felt like his fault. And then I learned from my midwife, who’d been out of town for the birth because Hawthorn came early, that the baby and I probably would have died without the C-section. Feeling like my body wasn’t capable was really hard. I had a lot of grief around that. It was harder emotionally recovering from birth because of that sense of my body betraying me. Childbirth is one critical defining thing about being a woman, and I was unable to do it without surgical assistance. My body didn’t recover until I was able to better process and face the emotional parts. I was just stuck in it for a while because of that grief, anger, shame, and guilt.

How did Alone prepare you for pregnancy and childbirth?
Having experienced what I did on Alone, I do feel that I was better equipped to handle all physical challenges. The birth was absolutely a near-death experience and very traumatic. But I also wasn’t really freaking out, even when the baby’s heart rate was going way down, and it was looking dicey. I had a sense of inner-calm through it because I survived really intense stuff already. In the hospital I had support, and so I think that I had less fear than I would have, had I not done Alone.��The hunger and depletion of pregnancy felt very much like survival. I would say it’s the same kind of deep physiological need.

The contestants of ‘Alone: Frozen’ in 2022. (Photo: History Channel/A&E Network)

During season six, you tapped out because you listened to your body. How did you apply this lesson to pregnancy?
It’s interesting because the show pushes you to give it everything and you get into that mindset. I hit this point during season six where I realized I didn’t believe in this, and��if I continue, I’m modeling this for millions of people. How could I do that?

Pregnancy and birth change your body. But on Alone I went through losing 50 pounds and then gaining it back. I’d already seen my body endure insane changes, and I think that helped me know that I could go through childbirth��and recover and find normalcy again. If I had known that pregnancy was coming, I would have prepared for it differently, but I was actively recovering from starvation on Alone when I got pregnant. Nutrition was definitely something I concentrated on. I’m an advocate of what I call primal- or paleo-nutrition—eating more of the foods that our ancestors ate, like organ meats. The first couple of weeks after giving birth, I felt like I was dying. But I also think I recovered better and quicker than most people partly because of good nutrition, and because I’ve been so in touch with my body. To me, eating something wild every day feels really important.

The hunger and depletion of pregnancy felt very much like survival. I would say it’s the same kind of deep physiological need.

Would you compete on Alone again?��
During season six, I never wanted to leave. But on Frozen, I had to convince myself to stay every single day. It was so hard and there were a lot of factors involved, like having a partner waiting for me at home. There was PTSD in my body. I didn’t think of my first season as traumatic, but then you get back out in the wilderness and you realize it was actually really hard. My body was remembering that trauma. With all that said, both times were the most amazing experiences of my life. When am I ever going to be able to live in pristine Canadian wilderness by myself and use a trap line that would usually be illegal? I long for those experiences again, but I don’t know that I could step away from my son.

You built a strong skillset of self-sufficiency and adaptability during your time in the wilderness.��How has this translated to motherhood?��
In Labrador, the weather was so terrible that even if I was able to get a rare satellite signal for my rescue radio, they would need to wait for hurricane-force winds to calm so they could fly a helicopter. There wasn’t a guaranteed immediate rescue. Just like motherhood, you don’t have an immediate tap-out option. And you’re just in it��from the time you’re pregnant. We’re so entitled in our normal world because we can have anything we want with the click of a button, and that is unprecedented in history. We’re not adaptable. We’re not healthy. We’re not emotionally grounded and stable. Having whatever you want, whenever you want is really bad for you. Mothering is often about sacrificing what you want and need. I thought it was impossible to survive postpartum. It was so hard, but I had no choice. I couldn’t not feed my baby when he was hungry. I couldn’t just fall asleep when my baby was screaming and I felt like throwing up from exhaustion. Survival, pregnancy, and motherhood are the things you have to do because it needs to get done—and that’s beautiful.

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A Q&A with Outdoor Filmmaker Malik Tha Martian on Creativity, Belonging, and Confidence

jversteegh — Thu, 30 May 2024 22:48:22 +0000

Malik Martin, better known as , has carved a niche for himself in the outdoor industry as a photographer and filmmaker. Born in Memphis, Tennessee, and now living in Denver, Martin filmed and appeared in the project Black Ice, a documentary about a group of Memphis rock climbers who learn to ice-climb in Montana. He’s also the subject of a short film, , about his friendship with mountaineer Conrad Anker, and the host of —a series for ��ϳԹ�� TV in which he interviews influential people in the outdoor world while the pair walk on treadmills in a park.

Martin began his career as a photojournalist. In 2017, at age 27, he started freelancing for the in Memphis. His photos of the raw energy and tumult during the protests that led to the dismantling of Confederate statues garnered him a promotion to a full-time position. In 2018, while photographing the opening of the nonprofit climbing gym Memphis Rox, he decided that he wanted to participate, not just document, and began climbing indoors. Soon after, a Colorado road trip that included hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park ignited his interest in the outdoors and a passion for nature photography. Today, Malik not only captures stunning visuals but sparks important conversations about diversity and inclusion in urban and outdoor spaces.

Martin discussed his unique journey in a series of interviews with ��ϳԹ��.

Martin in Red Rocks Park in Morrison, Colorado, in May 2024 (Photo: Blake Jackson; Art by Hannah DeWitt)

��ϳԹ��: Can you share some insights into your youth? How did those early years influence your career path?
Martin: I was adopted by my grandmother when I was two and moved to Salt Lake City, because she felt it would give me a better chance at life compared with Memphis. My elementary years were spent experiencing extreme racism, being one of the only Black kids in my school. The mountains were there, but they were no more than something to look at. I never thought about hiking or climbing them, even though I did camps as a youth. These experiences didn’t directly influence my career, but they gave me a fighting spirit and taught me to never be afraid to speak truth to power.

What led you to become a photojournalist?
I wanted to make a living off my camera. Initially, getting booked for birthdays and baby showers was cool, but I needed something more dynamic. I remember walking into the Tri-State Defender without an appointment, to show the lead editor my portfolio, and saying, “I want to be a photojournalist.” He looked over my work and responded, “I think you already are.”

Malik Tha Martian Live at the ��ϳԹ�� Festival

Malik Tha Martian will be presenting a panel with Jimmy Chin and Conrad Anker in Denver, June 1-2, at the ��ϳԹ�� Festival, a celebration of the outdoors featuring amazing music, inspiring speakers, and immersive experiences.

What do you focus on in your work?
Things I love. When you shoot things you love, you can never make them look bad.

You’ve mentioned living in a tent for a period of time. What led to that situation, and how did the experience shape you?
In May 2016, I chose to live in a tent to escape a bug-infested apartment run by a slumlord. I realized I could cut back on expenses like rent and utilities to focus on my art. For the next six months, I camped and couch surfed, investing in myself rather than paying rent. I had an extra $1,000 a month that I could put into camera equipment instead of bills. This period taught me the importance of betting on myself, especially during times of uncertainty.

What about the experience in Rocky Mountain National Park made you fall in love with nature?
I don’t know, it just felt weird and I kind of liked it. Initially, I thought maybe the thin air was giving me a natural high, but it also made it hard to breathe, yet I couldn’t stop moving forward. I had never felt such euphoria. The mountains spoke to me in a way the city never could. They taught me about silence, depth, and the wildness of spirit.

Martin interviewing professional ultrarunner Coree Woltering on ��ϳԹ�� TV’s A Walk in the Park (Photo: Kirk Warner)

How did you meet Conrad Anker, and how has that relationship influenced your career and personal growth?
I met Conrad at Memphis Rox during Global Climbing Day, organized by the North Face, in August 2018. He immediately helped me with technical skills like rigging ropes and positioning myself on the wall to capture great shots. Conrad has been like a mountain dad to me, profoundly changing my life and career trajectory. After observing my coverage of the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020, he invited me on a trip to clear my mind. This trip turned out to be a two-week expedition where I climbed the Granite Peaks in Montana and the Grand Teton in Wyoming with Jimmy Chin.

What projects are you currently working on?
My current project is ��ϳԹ�� Ain’t Free. It’s my first completely independent film and focuses on the challenges of accessing the outdoors when you live in a concrete jungle. It questions the notion that the outside is free by highlighting barriers like a lack of gear and knowledge needed to safely navigate the backcountry.

When did you start writing poetry? Is it a hobby or have you considered publishing your work?
I’ve been writing poetry my whole life, walking around in third grade with Edgar Allan Poe’s book of poems. Over the years, it took me a while to find my style and approach. Poetry is more than a hobby; it’s a crucial mode of personal expression. It allows me to convey emotions and experiences that may not always come through in my visual work. I haven’t had anything published. There are just some things I keep private.

We’re all aware of the lack of diversity outdoors, and obviously you stand out. Can you discuss the impact of imposter syndrome on pursuing aspirations, particularly in environments where you might feel out of place?
I’m supposed to be here. In the early stages, I was adjacent to the big names, but now I’m becoming one myself. I used to look at all these great names on posters, admiring their achievements. But now my name is on the poster, too. I’m doing great things, and I’m supposed to be here.

You are. But how do you react when someone doesn’t feel the same?
I have tried to join groups of people that have the same interests as me and haven’t been offered a seat. So why not build my own table? While they’re at their table enjoying themselves, I’ll be over here, gathering nails, hammering the wood, sanding, and building chairs. They’ll look up and see that while they were busy excluding, I created a space for me and whoever else to thrive, share ideas, and eat.

A Poem About the Poet

As someone who has grappled with stuttering, I’ve often sought solace and inspiration in the words of great orators like Maya Angelou. Her mastery of language has guided my own pursuit of expressive power. Martin shares a reverence for Angelou, too. Speaking to him inspired me to write a poem in her style.

Malik the Lens, Malik the Light

In Memphis beats a heart, unquiet
A spirit fierce, refusing to deny it.
Malik, with a camera as his sword
Cuts through silence, his unspoken word.

From humble streets to mountain’s breath
His journey sings, defying death.
With each snap, a new world unfurls
Canvas of dreams, his lens swirls.

Poet first, through streets he roamed
Each photograph, a verse, a tome.
To the stars, his gaze now cast
In every frame, his future, his past.

He built a table, long and wide
Inviting all to come, reside.
By firelight of stars and flash
His community, his mosaic, his bash.

Through city’s pulse and nature’s calm
Malik moves, his soul his balm.
A Martian, they say, in jest, in mirth
For he brings the heavens down to earth.

Photographer, wanderer, seeker, friend
On each journey, he finds his mend.
Through lens and heart, he charts his course
With nature’s power, his endless source.

A Walk in the Park with Malik Tha Martian is .

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