I want to venture into film more, and I think that a nice way to

Hear the reflective voice of Ryan McGinley, artist of vision and seeker of new frontiers, who declared: “I want to venture into film more, and I think that a nice way to transition into doing that would be a documentary. I think it would be interesting to find one person that really fascinated me or maybe a band and travel with them, but I don’t think I could do it like I used to do it.” These words, though clothed in the language of art, hold within them an eternal lesson: that life is a series of transitions, and that the artist’s journey—indeed, every human journey—is not about remaining the same, but about evolving with time and circumstance.

To venture into something new is always an act of courage. McGinley speaks as one who has already conquered the realm of photography, whose lens has captured fleeting moments of youth, freedom, and intimacy. Yet he does not wish to remain still. He wishes to step beyond, into the moving image, into film, into a form that demands new eyes, new methods, new endurance. His words remind us that the spirit of growth lies not in clinging to past triumphs, but in daring to walk untried paths. Every soul, at some point, must choose: remain comfortable in what is known, or leap toward what is unknown but necessary for growth.

The mention of the documentary reveals a deeper truth: McGinley does not seek to escape reality but to plunge more deeply into it. The documentary is not fantasy, not invention, but the unveiling of truth through art. To follow one person or one band, to live with them, to capture their essence, is an act of devotion. It is to say, “Your story matters, and I will bear witness to it.” Such work is a continuation of his art, yet it requires new patience, new discipline, and a new way of being present. Thus, his words show us that growth does not mean abandoning one’s soul—it means finding new vessels to carry it.

Yet he admits with honesty: “I don’t think I could do it like I used to do it.” These words strike with both humility and wisdom. For the artist of youth burns fast and wild, chasing every flame with abandon. But with time comes reflection, and with reflection comes restraint. He does not say he will not do it—only that he cannot do it as before. And this is a wisdom that applies to all of life: the way of youth is not the way of maturity, and the way of maturity is not the way of old age. Each season demands a new approach, and wisdom lies in knowing how to adapt.

History bears witness to this truth. Consider Picasso, who painted not one style, but many. In youth, he dazzled with the Blue and Rose Periods. Later, he broke reality itself into the shards of Cubism. Still later, he painted with childlike simplicity. He did not create as he had before, but he always created. His art lived because he allowed himself to change. So too with McGinley: the fire that once captured still images may now move through the lens of film. He will not create as before—but he will create still.

The emotional depth of McGinley’s words is found in their balance of longing and acceptance. He longs to explore, to follow fascination, to let the camera bear witness to journeys. But he accepts that he cannot return to his past ways of working. There is no going back to the endless nights of youthful abandon, to the reckless immersion in chaos. Yet this is not tragedy—it is evolution. For what he may lose in intensity, he gains in depth. What he may lose in frenzy, he gains in clarity. This is the sacred trade of growth.

The lesson for our lives is radiant: embrace transition, but embrace it wisely. Do not attempt to live as you once did, for the river you crossed yesterday is not the same river you cross today. Accept the changes of your body, your mind, your soul, and let them shape how you create, how you live, how you love. The one who clings to the past becomes brittle, but the one who adapts flows like water, always finding a way forward.

Practical wisdom follows: when you feel the call to venture into something new, do not resist it. But do not try to force yourself into the old ways either. Ask instead: What is my way now? What new form does my soul require? Step with humility into the unknown, carrying both your past experience and your present wisdom. In this way, you honor both where you have been and where you are going.

So let Ryan McGinley’s words echo as a guide for all travelers of time: “I want to venture into film… but I don’t think I could do it like I used to do it.” This is not a limitation but a liberation. For the journey of life is not about repeating what was, but about becoming what must be. And the one who embraces change with courage will always find new inspiration, new creation, and new life.