Chapter 1: Peace Out, iPhone

Let’s rewind for context. It’s 2020. Oh yes, let’s relive that… against my better judgement—Covid-19 is rampant, and my anxiety is soaring faster than my toilet paper stockpile. I’m stuck in my Mount View apartment with a roommate who apparently thinks microwaving Hot Pockets every 30 minutes is some sort of culinary art form. Now, nothing against Hot Pockets or my roommate, but the air in our place had the distinct vibe of “tomato steam bath.” Even the smell of bacon couldn’t rise above that.

I was living my own version of Groundhog Day—work, screen time, rinse… er shower, repeat. The occasional hangouts with friends, including Sole, a photo producer at Apple who could make any mundane activity sound like an emo avant-garde film, were my only lifeline. Honestly, if it weren’t for my friends, being stuck thousands of miles away from family, I might’ve slipped into the void of my own existential crisis. But hey, at least the Hot Pockets would be there to satisfy me.

My attempt at reenacting the good ol' 2020 vibes. Sans the raging anxiety. 

This was, without a doubt, a transformative time for all of us. And by “transformative,” I mean it was the year I spiraled into a personal technological abyss. Instead of Hot Pockets, I bathed my free time with shiny devices—iPhone, Mac, Switch, you name it. I was playing Pokémon Go! like my life depended on it (it didn’t), scrolling Instagram like I’d find the meaning of life there (spoiler: I didn’t), and overanalyzing social justice movements like I was prepping for a TED Talk (I wasn’t). Oh, and I binge-watched Dave. Season 1. Twice.

2020 made me more glued to screens than Baby Yoda was to Star Wars fans—an adorable but surely an unhealthy obsession. My iPhone was always within arm’s reach, like some kind of safety blanket. Conversations with friends? Eh, they happened but I was often distracted by the allure of glass and pixels. Walks in nature? Only accompanied by podcasts and Folklore on repeat, because, well, Sole’s influence. I was plugged in, tuned out, and slowly forgetting how to exist in the real world.

It wasn’t even subtle. My iPhone had become like an insidious extension of my arm, and not in a cool cyberpunk way. I was sinking hours into my screen like it was the last life raft on the Titanic. Four hours, five hours, six… I once hit fourteen. Yes, fourteen. Who needs sleep, am I right?

But hey, I’m not here to judge. Much. I know the drill. Boredom strikes, and you’re reaching for your phone. Work didn’t help either. Slack, email, notifications—oh my! These digital demands only greased the wheels of my distraction machine. I should probably leave the “deep work” conversations to Cal Newport, but let’s just say I was working about as deep as a kiddie pool.

Okay, let’s fast forward to this past summer. Skipping a lot, but for the sake of brevity. I’m in Tuscany, Italy. Rolling hills, vineyards, wine so good it makes you question why you ever tolerated boxed stuff. Well, that’s not exactly applicable to me. I had beer, lots of amazing Italian beer. Before even departing for Italy, I decided to try something radical: ditch the iPhone and everything else distracting. So, with a bout of minor insanity, I left my beloved devices in Finland and traveled with just a Punkt MP02 (the phone equivalent of a caveman’s club), a Kindle Paperwhite (because let’s not get crazy), and my trusty film camera, the Nikon S2. It felt like I was stepping back in time, but it turns out you can still survive in 2023 by, get this, asking people for directions. I know. Scary.

After a week of wandering the countryside, unburdened by Instagram and constant pinging, I returned home inspired. So inspired, in fact, that I decided to extend this experiment for 45 more days. I was expecting withdrawals. I mean, let’s face it—our smartphones have become our public transit passes, our wallets, and our personal assistants. Turns out, not only was I fine without it, I was thriving. Actually. Transit cards are still a thing, physical wallets haven’t gone extinct, and I stopped obsessing over my Oura ring metrics. Who needs constant health data when you’re too busy feeling, you know, healthy?

A week in, I made the ultimate leap. I sold my iPhone. That’s right. I dumped it. No hard feelings, just a clean break. All for the sake of protecting my time and attention from the relentless barrage of notifications. Let me tell you, it’s liberating. Suddenly, I was no longer a pawn in the matrix of mindless scrolling. I wasn’t tethered to the curated, algorithm-driven nonsense that fills our feeds. For the first time in years, I felt free. Free like a kid with a Nokia 3310 in the year 2000, when the only thing you had to worry about was beating your high score on Snake.

Now, I’m not saying this is for everyone. Breaking up with your smartphone isn’t exactly easy. But it’s also not as hard as you think. At first, it’s terrifying—like giving up the remote control when you’ve already settled in on the couch. But then, you start noticing things. Real things. Like, people. The kind that aren’t just avatars on a screen. You realize everyone around you is trapped in their own digital cocoon, spoon-fed what they want to see and hear, never challenged to think beyond the algorithm’s carefully curated bubble.

So, can you do this too? Maybe. Only you can answer that. But here’s the thing—if you’re making a million excuses to not try it, you’re probably the exact person who needs to. Addiction makes us rationalize. We say we need our phones for work, to stay connected, to “relax.” But these are just the same tired excuses I used. Trust me, they don’t hold up. Not when you see what life looks like without the constant digital noise.

For me, I don’t see a scenario where I go back. Smartphones? Nah, I’m good. I’ve rediscovered a sense of flow I hadn’t felt since high school, and I’m not willing to trade that for the convenience of pocket-sized distractions. Pokémon Go! be damned. My time and attention are worth too much, and frankly, the cost of giving them up to a smartphone is way too high.

So, I leave you with this: How precious is your time and attention in a world that constantly fights for it? Does your smartphone enhance your life, or is it silently chipping away at it? Maybe when you can answer that, you’ll consider the same challenge I took on.

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45-Day Smartphone Detox Distraction Free Challenge

Objective: Replace your smartphone with a “dumbphone” for 45 days, eliminating all social media and exploring new interests.

Guidelines:

1. Choose Your Dumbphone: Select a basic phone with call and text capabilities, no internet, no social media. If it looks like a brick, you’re on the right track.

2. Daily Reflection: Keep a journal. Write down what it’s like to, you know, actually be present in your own life.

3. Weekly Activities:

• Week 1: Reconnect with Nature. Step outside. There’s this place called “the outdoors,” and it’s pretty great.

• Week 2: Read a Book. That thing you’ve been “meaning to get to”? Now’s your chance.

• Week 3: Learn Something New. Take up a hobby. Anything. If it’s knitting, I won’t judge.

• Week 4: Face-to-Face Connections. Call a friend. Or better yet, see them in person—radical, I know.

• Weeks 5 - 6: Idk. Make something up.

4. Limit Notifications: Seriously. If it’s not important, ignore it. You’re not a firefighter.

5. Digital Cleanup: On the final day, declutter. Your phone, your email, your life. Marie Kondo that stuff.

6. Achievement Unlocked: Reflect. How does life feel now? Are you more present? Less anxious? Will you go back, or is this the new you?

The Prologue

Welcome to my digital home! I’m Garrett Fookes, a Helsinki-based photographer, two-time entrepreneur and corporate drop-out. This site will be where I share my latest projects, showcase past work, and dive into topics I’m passionate about, like technology addiction and minimalism.

Currently, much of my work revolves around exploring humanity’s evolving relationship with technology. Through my company, Kanslo, I’m developing tools aimed at helping children cultivate a healthier balance with their screen time and avoid the pitfalls of tech addiction. This venture is deeply personal, inspired by my own six-year-old daughter, Amelia. Like many kids, she’s fascinated by the endless entertainment available on screens, but since embarking on this journey, she’s rediscovered her love for art and the outdoors. More on that—and Kanslo’s mission—a bit later.

Six but already boujie.

I’m fortunate to have an incredible co-founder and partner, Jenni, who plays a vital role in keeping our operations running smoothly. She’s the one who ensures everything stays organized and on track, and I often call her the “ultimate producer.” She’s also an avid oil painter, and her creative energy never fails to inspire me. We complement each other perfectly, and I couldn’t imagine this work without her.

Outside of Kanslo, I’m a dedicated photographer with a love for film. My journey with photography started when I was 12, but it’s only recently that I made the shift to shooting exclusively on film. There’s something magical about this medium—the imperfections, the rawness, the way it captures moments in a timeless way. My workflow is entirely mechanical and analog, which, for me, makes every shot feel intentional and real. You can check out some of my portfolio here, with more pieces coming soon. I’ve also launched a print store, where you’ll find some limited-edition works—keep an eye out for upcoming releases!

As for what’s next? I’m genuinely excited about the future. Kanslo has several projects in the pipeline, all geared toward tackling tech addiction in children. Our first offering will be a children’s book that highlights the joys of the analog world in this highly digital age. Stay tuned for updates on that and everything else that’s brewing.

Thanks for stopping by, and I look forward to sharing more soon!