Hunter Canning

Contact

Thank you

first things first

My hippie parents raised me in a surprisingly rural pocket of Los Angeles. Nestled in the Santa Monica mountains, this hidden gem was known only to locals and the occasional biker gang who would barrel through, let their hair down, and break every speed limit with reckless abandon—so much for peace and quiet.As a kid, I was that feral child playing in the hills, surrounded by towering trees, babbling creeks, and all sorts of critters scampering about. Notably, the tadpoles held a special fascination for me as they wriggled around in their sexless state. I would spend hours watching them dance and discover their gender among their peers.At nightfall, the inky darkness would envelop everything so completely that I wondered if I’d somehow slipped out of existence myself. But then I’d look up and take in the twinkling constellations reminding me that, yup, I still had two feet planted on this terrestrial ball. Even now, as an adult, that same fleeting feeling strikes me now and again - that I’m but a speck of dust drifting through the infinite unknown. But we still gotta pay the bills, I suppose.I’m grateful for my unique Los Angeles upbringing, being raised in the wild while also a stone’s throw from the plastic madness of Hollyweird. And I’m grateful to my parents for nurturing in me a curious mind and open heart from the beginning. Look at them in this snapshot from May of 1970 - those beautiful babes - 20 years old, on the cusp of life and brimming with free love. Fast forward fifteen years, in the thick of the AIDS epidemic, their first queer kid and last child in the lineup burst onto the scene. What a difference fifteen years can make.

These days, I live in New York, leaning into mindfulness and cycling with the hopes of postponing my inevitable dissension into madness. I've also taken up tinkering with artificial intelligence, which, by my math, may have us all lose-our-marbles in the end, anyhow.While life is full of uncertainties and surprises, I can at least count on my chihuahua, Francis, to amuse me with his brilliant comedic timing. The little gremlin keeps me humble - I could only dream of being as naturally hilarious as him.