I joined Farcaster in search of improved distribution for my photography. I co-hosted /itookaphoto, then later took over /nature and built it into one of the top five channels on the Farcaster network by engagement. Thousands of people see my photos every day, but what mattered more was realizing the work actually reached people who cared. Distribution finally felt alive.

I began minting my photos on Rodeo and Zora—143 images on Rodeo alone. People collected them because the work resonated. That shifted how I saw myself as a creator. It wasn't vanity. It was a validation with a signal.

I created the Distribution Channel or /distribution to write in public about go-to-market and develop my book, "Distribution is Hard." I shared drafts with the /founders channel and my followers, and the feedback loop pulled me deeper into the work.

FarCon and Basecamp were transformative. I came for a tool but stayed because I found a network whose curiosity, intensity, and generosity pushed me to level up. When I came home, I had that feeling—IYKYK. These events create shared flow state—where everyone's engaged on topics that matter to them, at the same time. It's an emotional force multiplier. You're surrounded by builders who solved a problem you're working on, who love your idea and want to try it, who give you invaluable feedback, and make valuable connections. You realize you're part of a robust builder ecosystem that is growth-focused.

I'm a publishing Distribution is Hard, on-chain with Alexandria Labs. I write 2x weekly on Paragraph. I meet regularly with founders, builders, and creators.

Over 22 months, the network compensated me for my attention and creativity—thousands of dollars. But the real value wasn't financial. It was having a place where my attention and creativity finally mattered.

What Farcaster Unlocked

That was my experience. Here's what made it possible:

Farcaster is a founder meeting place, a builder playground, and a creator commons. It's an amusement park, a casino, and a world's fair where the future shows up in real time.

You can buy merch, candles, and art. Musicians, illustrators, photographers, and writers publish daily. GM Farcaster provides a native media layer. This isn't one interface. It's an ecosystem of interfaces, each highlighting a different part of the culture.

The real magic is social—the density of people who care enough to build, share, encourage, critique, and explore together.

Calling it a proto-economy understates what's happening. It's an identity engine. A place where you discover who you are by building alongside others doing the same.

You test an idea in the morning, get a signal by lunch, refine it by dinner, and feel momentum that doesn't exist anywhere else.

Being here sharpened my thinking, clarified what resonated, and gave me the confidence to launch and evolve ideas.

Farcaster rewards creativity, curiosity, and effort. But more than anything, it rewards showing up—and building in public while you figure out what works.

This experience taught me something about how Farcaster works—not just what it does, but the jobs people hire it to do. I wrote about that here: What Job Is Farcaster Really Doing?