People ask about the name, assuming there's a deep meaning behind it. The truth is much stupider, and we love it.
Years ago, sitting in film school during a lecture, doing what every serious film student does (not listening), a hand produced a completely unhinged drawing in a notebook margin: a fish, with fire coming out of it. No idea why. We can't rule out Laurence Fishburne being subconsciously involved. If one of his films was out around that time, that's probably on him.
A couple of days later: flip back to the page, look at this deranged flaming fish, and do the only reasonable thing. Write "Fishburn" underneath it. Then, somehow, take a photo of a doodle, like it was important.
Turns out the instincts were right, because that photo kept resurfacing for years. Scrolling through a camera roll looking for something else: burning fish. Changing phones, restoring backups: burning fish. It followed us through an entire film career like a spirit animal that smelled faintly of smoke.
So when the moment came to name the studio, and everyone was throwing names around, we just remembered that lecture, that notebook, that photo, and realized it had been decided a long time ago. We're Fishburn.
Some studios get their names from Latin words and brand consultants. Ours came from a bored film student, a scribble, and possibly Morpheus. The fish is still burning. Now it's on everything we make.