Yes—we changed our name. Seems like it sort of came out of no-where—not exactly. We got a lot of response from our first issue. The fact that we are shaping this magazine in a different manner really hit home with a lot of people. This is, in fact, a magazine with a foundation built on fly fishing, but as you’ve seen by now, there’s a lot more. It’s more a travel and culture magazine with fly fishing as the starting point to each journey.
A number of reasons stand out for the name change. First, and foremost, is the fact that we are taking TEN & TWO in a number of different directions at the same time. All those directions have the same goal of exploring the world, but the world does not revolve solely around fly fishing. Secondly, there is a company behind TEN & TWO called the TEN & TWO Media Group. It’s composed of the same good people, but this group has a lot of energy and we’re looking into other digital media-based businesses and marketing opportunities, with the hopes of expanding into the print world as well. We don’t believe print is even close to dead. Lastly, we see a number of businesses around the world associated with the name UpStream, and we don’t want to be mistaken for any of them. Taken all together, we feel the name UpStream, is simply too limiting in its scope. Great name, but it just doesn’t give us enough room to grown. So we’ve changed it.
Our editor, John Van Vleet (formerly of Fish & Fly Magazine), suggested we use the numbers "ten" and "two" in the name. Everyone who has ever picked up a fly rod knows that, as a foundation, "ten and two" are the numbers on a clock face that represent the path of a perfect cast. It also seemed that the numbers "ten" and "two" embraced the digital nature of our expanding business model. We put them together and it all seemed to work perfectly. TEN & TWO says a lot without defining any limitations for us. Greg Smith—our designer, also from Fish & Fly—took the “And” part and turned it into an incredibly stylized “&” that looks like a spey caster’s Snake Roll with a double handed rod. The combination with a great type face seemed to solve the whole issue for us.
All this synchronicity layered on top of the great response we got from the first issue made the decision easy for us. The magazine is called TEN & TWO, and we’re cranking out the second issue as we speak. Grab that free trial subscription and let’s take some more journeys together. We’re looking forward to it.
The response to the new magazine has been great. It’s comforting to see the support for an elegant piece of work in the face of so much information coming at us at 140 characters per post, per complete thought, per random scattered blasts of random scattered information.
I did get one letter that brought up a good point to ponder for a moment. This fellow said he thought the magazine looked great, but he was never gonna get to go to Patagonia, so it really didn’t apply to him, and he wasn’t going to subscribe because he couldn’t afford to go those exotic places anyway. In other words, he was saying: “This doesn’t do me any good. What’s it got to do with me?” I understand that question and I questioned it myself. I think there’s an answer to that question, and it’s very simple.
To the literal question we answer by saying there are going to be lots of local articles that appeal to the guys who stay close to home. Take the Catskills, the Louisiana marsh, or farm pond bluegills, for instance. Staying close to home is a great journey all by itself, and we will explore that path in detail—but not with every article.
To the wider question we actually ask questions in return. What’s become of us? Why is it only about “me” anymore? It seems there’s more loss than gain in the concept of “me.” The more we define ourselves by what we own or what directly affects us, the more at risk we become and the more suffering we endure in the name of “me,” when we don’t get exactly what we want exactly when we want it. I don’t remember reading McGuane’s “The Longest Silence” and thinking this is crap, because I’m never going to the Ponoi River in Russia, and I never once read Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea” thinking I’ll never catch a marlin in a row boat, so this doesn’t work. What we lose by being concerned about “me” are the fantasies we knew as kids reading “Robinson Caruso,” making up our own deserted island in the backyard. As adults, we still need a childlike piece of that pie for dessert. We need to enjoy a well-told story and imagine what might be possible in a world we simply enjoy in our mind.
That’s what’s in it for you. That’s what’s in it for us