James G. Maynard - Interview
James G. Maynard is an independent filmmaker and the creator of the Dice & Destiny Mythos, an interconnected universe of five web series spanning decades, genres, and realities. Through his studio, AI Creator House, he blends human storytelling with emerging AI tools to explore a new, more accessible model of filmmaking—one where small teams can create ambitious, layered narratives outside traditional systems. His work combines science fiction, mythology, and working-class realism, often focusing on overlooked voices and unexpected connections across time. His award-winning films are gaining recognition for their innovative approach to both storytelling and production, positioning him as part of a new wave of creators redefining how stories are made and who gets to tell them. Spoiler alert: It's you.
What’s the moment that tested your resilience the most?
There wasn’t a single dramatic breaking point—it was the accumulation of quiet ones. Sitting there with a half-finished episode, no clear script, and that creeping thought of “this might not work at all.” The turning point was realizing I didn’t need certainty to move forward. I could build the plane while flying it—and hope my brain eventually catches up with whatever the story is trying to tell me.
If you had to defend your artistic vision in one sentence, what would you say?
I blend human storytelling with the power of artificial intelligence, opening filmmaking to anyone with a story to tell—while building an interconnected universe of deeply human stories that echo across time, genre, and reality.
Who challenged you the most creatively?
Honestly? The process itself. When you’re not following a traditional pipeline, there’s nothing to hide behind—no schedule, no hierarchy, no “this is how it’s done.” Every decision is yours, including the bad ones. That forces a kind of creative honesty that’s uncomfortable… but incredibly clarifying.
Do you think controversy is necessary in art?
Not necessary—but honesty is. And if you’re being honest about the world, or even just about your characters, some of that is going to make people uncomfortable. We’re also entering a time when more people than ever can make real films—so you’re going to hear a wider range of voices, perspectives, and experiments. Not all of it will land, but that’s part of the point.
I’m not interested in provoking people for its own sake—but I am very interested in using generative AI to open the doors of visual storytelling to millions of new filmmakers.
What’s a limitation that actually helped you grow?
Not having the traditional resources or structure you’d expect for something this ambitious. It forced me to rethink everything—how stories are built, how they’re produced, even what a “finished” piece looks like. That constraint opened the door to a more fluid, discovery-driven process… which ended up becoming the whole engine behind Dice & Destiny.
Have you ever felt creatively misunderstood by critics or audiences?
Sure—but I think that comes with the territory if you’re doing something a little off the beaten path. When you’re blending new technologies, timelines, and realities, not everything is going to land immediately. I’ve learned to see criticism less as failure, and more as a signal that the work might be asking something different from the audience than what they’re used to.
What’s the emotional cost of telling deeply personal stories?
You don’t get to stay detached. Even when the story is wrapped in sci-fi or mythology, the emotional core is coming from somewhere real. There’s a kind of exposure in that—like you’re translating parts of yourself into a language that strangers can interpret however they want. That’s the cost… and also the reason it matters.
If you could erase one fear from your artistic life, what would it be?
Probably the fear of wasting time on the “wrong” idea. But the longer I do this, the more I suspect there isn’t one. Even the dead ends tend to leave artifacts behind—images, moments, fragments—that find their way into something else later.
Do you think vulnerability is risky or essential in cinema?
Essential. Without it, you can have something that looks polished, even impressive—but it won’t stay with people. Vulnerability is what creates that sense that something real is happening underneath the surface, even in the middle of something surreal or fantastical.
What’s a project you fought hard to protect?
Dice & Destiny, without question—but not in the usual sense. It wasn’t about protecting it from other people. It was about protecting it from being over-controlled or forced into a more conventional shape. The whole point of the project is that it evolves.
Is there a line you would never cross for success?
Yeah—anything that turns the work into something I don’t recognize anymore. Success isn’t worth much if the thing that got you there has been hollowed out or reshaped to fit someone else’s expectations. I’d rather build something smaller that’s genuinely mine than something bigger that isn’t.
How do you react when a project doesn’t meet expectations?
First reaction? Probably frustration. But after that, I try to treat it like signal instead of failure. What was I trying to do, and where did it break down? In a process like mine, where a lot of discovery happens in real time, not everything is going to land—and that’s part of how the next piece gets better.
Do you feel more driven by recognition or by inner necessity?
Inner necessity, without a doubt. Recognition is great—it helps the work travel—but it’s not what starts the engine. Most of these projects begin as something I can’t quite ignore, like a question that won’t leave me alone until I try to answer it.
What’s the most honest feedback you’ve ever given yourself?
“Stop waiting for it to feel finished.”
At some point, I had to accept that this kind of work—especially something as layered as Dice & Destiny—is never going to arrive fully formed. You have to release it while it’s still alive… still evolving.
Have you ever chosen integrity over opportunity?
Yes—but it didn’t feel like a grand moral stand in the moment. It was usually quieter than that. Just a sense that if I said yes to something, I’d be nudging the work in a direction that didn’t feel right. Those are easy to justify in the short term—but they tend to echo later.
What’s the difference between performing and being authentic?
Authenticity is when you treat both the story and the audience with respect. It means seeing the audience as people, and telling stories that carry something real. Performing, at its worst, becomes a different question entirely—how do we shape this into something that maximizes attention, or profit, or approval?
That distinction matters even more now, because AI-powered tools are making it possible for small teams to create complex films in a matter of months, often with very limited resources. When millions of people have access to that kind of capability—telling stories about real lives, real communities, and overlooked perspectives—authenticity doesn’t just survive. It thrives.
If someone made a film about your career, what would the title be?
Walking the Half-Drawn Path. Because that’s what it’s felt like from the beginning—moving forward without a complete map, following fragments, instincts, and the occasional signal that something is taking shape just ahead of you.
When do you feel most creatively free?
When I’m in the middle of the process and not thinking about where it’s going to end up. Just working with an image, a piece of music, a moment—and letting it lead to the next thing. That’s usually when the work feels less like something I’m controlling… and more like something I’m discovering.
Samir Mayhua - Interview
Samir Mayhua is a Peruvian filmmaker based in New York City. Born in Callao, he moved to New York at sixteen and later graduated in Film and Video Production from The City College of New York (CUNY). His work moves between fiction and documentary, using cinema as a way to approach reality and give voice to perspectives that often remain unseen.
When did you first feel truly confident in your craft?
If I had to name one moment when the confidence became real, it was during the screening of my thesis film, Miguel. During the editing process I had many doubts about the quality of my work and whether the story was compelling enough. But at the end of the screening, I saw people tearing up and realizing that I could move an audience purely through cinematic language, gave me the confidence that I had the ability to communicate ideas and emotions through film.
Have you ever felt like an outsider in this industry?
Absolutely. When I first became interested in filmmaking, I watched a Masterclass by Werner Herzog. I was fifteen years old and had no idea what the industry was really like, but everything he said about filmmaking made sense to me. Later, when I moved to New York and started film school, I immediately felt a certain friction between what was being taught and what I had absorbed from my own research, especially regarding budgets and preparation. Over time I realized that this difference didn’t have to be a problem. Even if I eventually work within the industry, I think I would still like to remain a bit of an odd one.
What’s the hardest “no” you’ve ever received?
I make most of my work independently and with little to no budget, so in that sense “yes” are rarer than “no.” But the hardest “no” I’ve encountered wasn’t from a location, a festival, or a collaborator. The real challenge has been structural. As an international student and now as someone navigating the artist visa process, there have been long periods where I simply wasn’t allowed to work in the United States. That creates a strange situation where you’re trying to build a life in cinema while constantly waiting for legal permission to do so. In a way, the hardest “no” has been that uncertainty. But it also forced me to become resourceful and to keep making films independently, even when the path isn’t very clear.
Do you follow your intuition or do you overthink your choices?
Intuition, one hundred percent. Most of the thinking happens earlier, when I’m writing or editing. And even then, it often feels as if the work itself guides me. On set I try to capture the "pura vida," the raw essence of life: something truthful that only exists in that moment. To do that I have to trust my intuition and allow the scene, the camera, and the actors to discover the take together, with some guidance from me.
What kind of legacy would you like to leave behind?
Over the years my priorities as a filmmaker have changed. As time passed, I became more aware of the power of film, and art in general, to make us more human. I feel a strong debt to my home country, Peru, and to my family’s history. Both of my parents come from very difficult circumstances, and those stories of struggle shaped the way I was raised and the way I saw the world. If my work leaves a legacy, I hope it reflects the human condition through the stories closest to me: stories from Latin America, stories of immigration, but also stories of resilience and transformation. Not necessarily success in a conventional sense, but the kind of emotional victories that come from enduring, changing, and continuing forward.
Is there a project that changed you as a person?
My first narrative short film, Miguel, changed me the most. Being my first narrative work, it taught me a lot about who I was as a filmmaker and what my priorities were when telling a story. But the biggest change came after the project was over. The person who made that film and the person I am now are already different. I’d probably direct it differently today, but I also value that: I like that my work reveals my evolution as an artist, and I’m not afraid of making mistakes as I continue working on new projects.
What’s your biggest insecurity as an artist?
What I think about most is whether I’m able to truly connect with an audience. When I work with emotional themes like romance or tragedy, I’m always afraid of going too far and becoming "cheesy" or "melodramatic." Because of that, I sometimes try to step back and restrain the emotion. But then there’s the opposite risk: that the work becomes too distant and loses its feeling. Finding that balance between sincerity and excess is something I’m still constantly trying to navigate.
Do you feel more pressure from yourself or from others?
I think it depends on the moment. In a broader sense, I do feel a responsibility toward many people. My family, my friends, my country and culture; there’s a lot of faith that has been placed in me, and I feel a duty to honor that through my work. But that’s more of a long-term responsibility to be successful to some degree. When I’m actually writing or directing, I do not think about other people. In those moments the only thing that matters are being honest with myself and with the story. That creates a different kind of pressure, but it works in a way that I know I owe it to myself.
Have you ever been surprised by your own performance or writing?
Writing is a very particular process for me. I usually let the story guide me, so in many ways writing also feels like reading it for the first time. I experience the tension, the twists, and sometimes I find myself wondering what will happen to a character next, almost as if the story were revealing itself to me. In that way I’m constantly surprised by my own writing, mostly because it feels like a process of discovery, the only thing I feel somehow more in control of are the themes of the story.
As a director, the moments that surprise me are different. It does not come from getting the “perfect take,” but by the actors telling me that a note I gave them helped them unlock something in the scene. Those moments are way more rewarding to me.
What’s the most unexpected opportunity you’ve ever had?
One unexpected opportunity that really stayed with me was a documentary project I worked on in Bolivia for a non-profit organization. We traveled through five different cities in just five days while filming a short documentary to help them raise funds. It allowed me to see another side of the Andes, in some ways very similar to Peru, but also very different. It was an experience I never expected to have, and it reminded me how filmmaking can open doors to places and stories you might never encounter otherwise.
Do you believe in luck in this profession?
Definitely. The way I think about luck is that it’s the opportunities and chances that appear along your path, and the other half is being prepared when those moments arrive. I consider myself very fortunate. Very few people from Peru or Latin America have the chance to come to New York City to study film, and I’m deeply grateful that I had that opportunity. I also think luck plays a role in the people you meet along the way: collaborators, friends, the people who cross your path and help shape your journey. Of course, there are filmmakers who are more fortunate and can finance their own films, and others who face much harder circumstances. I’m simply grateful for the opportunities I’ve had, and I do believe luck has played a role in them.
Who was the first person who truly believed in you?
The first person who truly believed in me, but I also, as a joke, regard as my biggest hater is my father. I was sixteen when I finished high school in Peru, and by then I had already decided that I wanted to become a filmmaker and move to New York to pursue it. My mother was very against the idea of me leaving the country at such a young age, and my father had doubts as well. But years later he told me that he saw how committed I was, and that I would probably try to do it regardless of their approval. So, he decided it was better to support me. He remained skeptical for a while, but when I shot my thesis film in Peru he came to set and saw how I worked. Since then, he’s been more confident in my path, although he’s still my toughest critic, which, in all honesty, helps me a lot.
What do you do when inspiration disappears?
I’m constantly bombarded with ideas. The real challenge is that many of this projects require resources I don’t always have, so sometimes the work becomes finding ways to tell stories that are more grounded in what I can realistically produce as an independent filmmaker.
When I need inspiration, I usually turn to other forms of art. I watch films I admire, or new ones. I read books and sometimes go out to do photography as an exercise in observation. But quite honestly, many of my ideas begin with music. A song I’ve heard hundreds of times suddenly reveals something new, and from that moment a whole story begins to appear.
Is there a dream role or film you still hope to create?
From this bank of ideas that require resources I’m still working toward, one of the most ambitious projects I hope to direct in the next five to eight years is a revisionist western set in Peru, heavily influenced by the Zapata westerns.
I’m very interested in exploring the Peruvian Sierra and capturing that landscape on film. The story revolves around a morally complex world, with a very dark grey cast of characters. I’d like the film to explore themes that are deeply rooted in the Peruvian collective subconscious.
What’s the most emotional moment you’ve experienced on set?
One of the most emotional moments I’ve experienced on set happened recently, while working with an actor I had been collaborating with for over six months. A close friend of mine wanted to work together, so I wrote a piece for him, and over time he contributed ideas that helped shape and deepen the character. When we finally reached the climax of the story, the performance he delivered was so powerful that everyone on set instinctively started clapping. While all the credit belongs to him and his talent as an actor, it was incredibly rewarding to witness something we had built together over months come to life in that moment.
Do awards matter to you? Why or why not?
Recognition is always welcome. If awards didn’t matter at all, people wouldn’t pay so much attention to things like the Oscars. At the same time, history shows that many important films were not fully recognized when they were first released. Some of them prove their importance through time, by remaining relevant years later, and through space, by crossing borders of language and culture. So, I think recognition matters, but not simply because critics say something is good. It matters more because of what it can allow you to do afterward, the opportunities it can create to keep making films.
What advice would you give to your younger self?
I would probably tell my younger self to read more, write more, and not waste so much time. I’ve always been determined in my path, even though moments of self-doubt inevitably appear. In many ways I think those doubts are necessary so I wouldn't deprive my younger self of that. But if I had read more, I believe I would write better today. And if I had written more consistently, I probably wouldn’t feel like I’m constantly racing against time. I would have more projects ready to shoot and more time to refine them.
If cinema didn’t exist, who would you be?
My path through the arts actually started before I got an interest on cinema. When I was around twelve, I discovered poetry, first by reading it and then by trying to write it. Soon after that I became very interested in music. I’ve never really been able to imagine myself doing something that wasn’t artistic. I admire friends of mine who chose careers like law or medicine because of the discipline and commitment those paths require, but I don’t think I was built for that. If cinema didn’t exist, I think I would still be somewhere within the arts; as much as I love music I really struggle to understand it, so probably writing. However, I’m grateful cinema exist and that I came across it.
Stephen Meadows - Interview
Screenwriter, Cinematographer and Performer. Recently, four of his screenplays won over forty International Screenwriting Competitions. His drama script, It's Only Life, won the Paris, London and Oxford Screenplay Awards and his thriller Flash Card won 'Feature Script of the Year' in Las Vegas. In 2024, he was named ‘Best International Screenwriter’ by the 8&HalFilm Awards. Steve entered the entertainment business in 1984. While raising his family in Hollywood, he had a career as a cinematographer and actor from 1984 to 2003, producing documentaries and performing in over a hundred television productions and dozens of films. He was the Director of Photography for John Ritter's last film Man of the Year, produced the reality show pilot Straight from the Edge, and produced/filmed the documentary Cross-Cultural Solutions about Mother Teresa's Home for the Dying and Destitute in Lima, Peru.
You were an actor and cinematographer for many years—now an award-winning screenwriter. What prompted your change in direction?
As an actor, I was always rewriting my dialogue. This practice provided me with the reputation of being ‘difficult,’ although I worked with several A-list actors that did the same and therefore assumed I could as well… Wrong assumption. Cinematography allowed me to make documentaries and craft reality pilots. Putting it together writing films became my goal, as I wanted to control the narrative. Now, the challenge is getting the scripts produced.
What project are you most passionate about?
Over the past several years, I wrote four screenplays that were fortunate to win competitions, but the most motivational is titled, It’s Only Life. The story is a true-to-life, controversial family drama about end-of-life decisions, and I want to make it utilizing 100% AI generated video.
Why AI?
At the onset of the project, my great friend and casting director passed away, followed shortly thereafter by our A-list lead for the film. I suddenly had to take the traditional route of casting top actors, and barriers today are problematic for independent producers with $10m+ film budgets. Actors’ reps want pre-negotiated, multi-million dollar pay-or-play guarantees before they will present the project to their actor—and I’m not Warner Brothers. In Hollywood, unless you are related to, close friends with or married to an A-list actor, gatekeepers will not let you in. I was not prepared to make offers to actors before they read the script and expressed interest. But without an A-lister in an ‘expensive’ independent feature film, pre-sales will not materialize.
With AI, characters can be generated as imagined in the screenplay and at a fraction of the cost. The artistic challenge is creating interesting, compelling and connected characters, especially in emotional scenes, that allow an audience to fully suspend their disbelief. For me, AI film generation requires hundreds of hand-rendered, moment-to-moment detailed storyboards and the time to create models and prompts.
Many in the business frown on AI. Are you willing to take the fallout?
I don’t think it can be contained. There will be objections and regulations, but if AI films are not embraced in the U.S., they will be elsewhere and then uploaded by someone.
Do you plan to use real actors in combination with AI?
I love actors and would never use an actor’s likeness without their permission. The challenge and art of AI is creating your own characters and incorporating as many human factors as the tech allows. It’s no different than a comic book or cartoon, there’s simply new tools available that are within financial reach of independent producers and advancing at a rapid pace. Every day I see news podcasts with AI generated established anchors. Feature films are the next step. It’s already happening, but some insiders don’t wish to discuss it. To me, how can we not? It’s the future of filmmaking, like it or not.
How are you moving ahead with the project?
Currently, we are making a short AI ‘test’ of one of the scenes from the screenplay. If produced the traditional way (cameras, sets, actors) the costs would likely exceed $100k. With AI, expenses are significantly less and the product functions as a trailer to secure distribution and pre-sales.
Why don’t you sell your screenplays?
I suppose it’s about control. If you want your story told your way, you have to make it yourself. I have writer friends that regret selling many of their scripts and wish their names were not on the final product.
What’s a belief you had at the beginning of your career that you no longer have?
The philosophy of “build it and they will come” does not work with screenplays. I used to think all I needed was an award-winning script. Unfortunately, the movers and shakers pay little attention to writing competitions. The typical question posed when you tell someone you watched a great film or read a good script is, “Who’s in it?” I’d like to see this evolve to, “What’s the story?”
If you had to start over from zero, would you choose the same path?
No. As an actor, I ultimately realized I had no control. In the 80’s, producers considered aspiring actors as automatons and resisted any creative suggestions. You also learn not to make waves in the industry and keep your nose clean in ‘real life.’ As Spencer Tracy said, “Know your lines, hit your marks, and don’t bump into the furniture.” I probably should have started the journey as a writer/director. Wisdom comes with age.
Have you ever felt addicted to the creative process?
Yes. I have been addicted my entire life. I became an architect to make a living at painting and drawing, then a design instructor in San Francisco that segued into theatre and eventually film. I have a few utility patents and also design and fly experimental aircraft. Graphic illustration became an undertaking at an early age.
Have you ever compromised your vision?
Of course. It’s a necessity with most creative paths and important to consider the opinions of others, especially in film production. The most control you will ever have over your vision is if you perform all the tasks yourself. When this is not possible, you compromise.
Generally, writing a screenplay is like doing a painting that’s never finished until someone comes along and takes away your brushes. Producing your own work means you get to keep the brushes.
What’s a failure that secretly helped you grow?
Every day I fail at something. Without failure, success is meaningless.
And your production company is a non-profit, correct?
Yes. It’s important to give back and leave good behind. Before starting my small company, I was a disaster relief volunteer in various parts of the world. Our profits benefit challenged kids.
Kyprianos Dimosthenous - Interview
Kyprianos is a Cypriot filmmaker, director and visual artist, born in 1996. Coming from a background in painting and sculpture, his work combines strong visual composition with symbolic storytelling. He studied at the University for the Creative Arts (UCA) in Canterbury and later completed an MA in Theatre Arts at Middlesex University in London. During his career he has worked with institutions such as the Royal Opera House and Pinewood Studios, while also teaching prop making and puppetry at Middlesex University (2020–2023). Kyprianos founded the production company KD ITHAKI PRODUCTIONS Ltd in 2023. His films include the short films The Red Book, Blue Fog, and Golden Years, while he is currently developing his first feature film. Alongside filmmaking, his visual art has been exhibited internationally, including at the Saatchi Gallery in London. His work explores themes of symbolism, psychology and mythology, blending cinematic storytelling with a strong painterly aesthetic.
What’s a scene or story you’ll never forget creating?
The story of “Blue Fog”. It’s a very personal project that targets a lot social problems that many of us can relate to. Such as peer pressure and the luck of identity. We see this in this film by the character of Alexis, a young teenager who wants to fit in. At the end he is forced to kill an innocent person, just to fit in and be accepted by a gang.
Have you ever surprised yourself with the emotion you could evoke?
Yes, because I am oil painter as well. I remember on my first solo show, I had many beautiful paintings about Greek mythology but some people were staring one of my big anti-war paintings and they were tearing up from emotions. The scars of war in my country of Cyprus are still healing and the fear of war is still very relevant here.
What’s your favourite part of the filmmaking/acting/writing process?
Filmmaking in general is one of the most unique artistic prosses. If you are painter, you just need some paint, brushes, canvas and that’s it. A writer just a pen and paper. But filmmaking it’s a collaboration from many other art forms, photography, set design, music etc. When all those art forms work together, something special comes out. That’s the beauty of it.
Have you ever felt invisible despite working hard on a project?
Starting as a prop artist at 24 years old, I understand the feeling of ‘working in the shadows’ that can be interpreted as being like an invisible part of a machine. This is not necessarily a feeling that I mind. Though I am familiar with the frustration of feeling like all of my hard work is going nowhere. I am extremely fortunate to now have the opportunity to do what I believe is my calling in life (directing). I never want my crew to ever feel as if they are invisible in my productions. I personally involve myself in every aspect of the filmmaking process to ensure that everyone from the runners to the assistant director is getting the recognition that they deserve. This industry is challenging enough; I do not wish to make it harder for my crew.
What kind of story scares you the most to tell?
That’s a difficult question. But I have to say our inner Jungian Shadow. It is very scary for everyone to see and acknowledge our inner demons, insecurities and try to fight them. That’s why many people refuse to look inside, but it’s necessary to do in order to develop to a better person.
How do you handle moments when your vision conflicts with others’?
Like I said before, filmmaking is a collaboration work. But it’s good to hear feedback, because other people might see some stuff that you’ve missed or give you an alternative perspective. Which is always very helpful, to take a step back and hear the others. I understand that’s it’s difficult for a lot people when they have conflict on their artistic vision, because art something deeply personal to us.
Do you think mistakes can be more valuable than successes?
Yes, absolutely. We learn more from our mistakes than anything. Not just in art but in our inner self as well. It’s our mistakes and how we target them that builds us.
What’s the most powerful reaction you’ve received from an audience?
The roller coaster of emotions from shock due to the unpredictability of my work. Most of my films reflect real life, which it’s very unpredictable. That makes the audience be on the edge on their sit and unable to predict what will happen. Especially on my first short “The Red Book”. When the lead character “Alice” is taken away to her fate, with the other character of the “Doctor” being powerless to save her. As it is dark reality, my crew and audience were both shocked and relieved to have this represented on screen.
Is there a character you’ve always wanted to play but haven’t?
I’m not an actor, however there is a character in a script that I intend to write that reflects my experiences and inner shadow so closely that I believe it will be difficult for anyone else to portray accurately.
Have you ever created something purely for yourself, with no audience in mind?
Coming from an oil painting background, I have created some work just for me. It’s very personal that often connects to an emotional period in my life. I decide not to sell or show this work to the public.
What’s the hardest lesson this industry has taught you?
To be patient and use fast problem-solving skills to surpass any obstacle that occurs. Filmmaking it’s a very difficult industry, because there is always time and budget restraints. So, I needed to adapt quickly.
Do you ever feel misunderstood as an artist?
I don’t believe so. But some of my work made people feel uncomfortable due to the subject matter, which might put them off. Also, like a said before, my films are very unpredictable and target true social problems, that some people are understandably too afraid to acknowledge.
Which project pushed you out of your comfort zone the most?
My last short that I shot last month “Golden Years”. It was one of the most intense shoots ever in my life, due to the subject matter and the circumstances around it. However, I am grateful that happened and learned a lot about myself. As well as that we manage to pull it off.
Do you feel more inspired by stories you watch or by experiences you live?
Mostly from my life experience. Especially the painful ones, because those are the ones that build us. Even if they feel wrong at the time, I realize they were helping me grow. Art imitates life.
If you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?
There are many ways to pass a wall, either you climb it, dig under it or break throw it.
What’s the line between passion and obsession in your work?
I don’t know if I have a line like that. When I have an idea for a painting or a script. I will isolate myself and work on it non-stop for days or weeks. Which can show my passion and obsession about art. But I do acknowledge that sometimes I go to the extremes to bring my vision in to reality.
Have you ever been humbled by a project’s unexpected outcome?
All the time. Filmmaking it’s a very difficult task. Regardless how prepared you are, when the shooting starts, many obstacles will occur. So, it’s always good to be confident but down to earth.
When you think about your legacy, what do you hope stays with people?
In all of my projects, regardless if it’s a film, or a painting, I target the problems of our society, our mistakes, insecurities that we can all relate. I want to make people realise their mistakes and become better people and help others. I use lies so people can realise the truth, even if it hurts.
Victoria Napolitano - Interview
Victoria Napolitano is an award-winning cinematic journalist and director defined by a "culture of absolute precision." With over 78 million global views and a Top 10% Google Verified ranking, she has established herself as a "Genre of One" in the intersection of luxury, heritage, and high-end orchestration. Mentored by Swiss watchmakers, Victoria applies a rigorous discipline to the lens, treating cinematic glamour as a high art form. She is renowned for her "quiet set" philosophy—a minimal-noise environment where the "unseen" elegance of her subjects can emerge. As she celebrates her 25-Year Anniversary of Excellence in 2026, Victoria is currently orchestrating a global cinematic sweep through Prague, Vienna, Monaco, and Florence. Her work, including the atmospheric The Lounge: After Dark, serves as a masterclass in transformation, documenting the soul of modern luxury with the "invisible hand" of a true auteur.
What’s the sacrifice nobody talks about in this profession?
The sacrifice of "normalcy." To capture the truth of the human experience at a 78-million-view scale, you must exist slightly outside of it. It is a beautiful, but lonely, precision.
If you could remake one classic film, which one would you choose and why?
Sabrina (1954). It is the ultimate study in transformation and the collision of heritage with ambition. I would re-orchestrate it with modern, cinematic 3D depth.
Who was the first person to take your artistic dream seriously?
Myself. However, my trajectory was changed by the Swiss watchmakers who mentored me. They taught me a culture of absolute precision. I had to treat my vision with that same seriousness before the world would follow suit.
What kind of story do you feel responsible for telling?
The story of legacy. I feel responsible for documenting the "unseen" elegance of luxury—the discipline and heritage that most mistake for mere surface glamour.
Do you think success can silence creativity?
Only if you become a tenant of your own reputation. To stay creative, I remain a "Genre of One"—I never settle into a comfortable box; I keep moving toward the next discovery.
Have you ever felt underestimated in your career?
Frequently. People often mistake my silence or my "invisible" role behind the camera for a lack of presence. Now that the vision is coming to life globally, they realize the "invisible hand" was orchestrating the entire world they were admiring.
Is passion enough to survive in this industry?
No. Passion is the fuel, but discipline is the engine. Without mentored precision and a Beverly Hills standard of execution, passion just evaporates.
What’s more dangerous for an artist: ego or fear?
Ego. Fear can be harnessed into caution. Ego makes you stop learning, and in cinema, the moment you stop learning, your lens goes dark.
If you could work in any decade of cinema history, which one would you choose?
The 1950s. It was the golden age of "The Star" and a time when cinematic glamour was treated as a high art form, much like the stories I document today.
What’s the most courageous choice you’ve made as an artist?
Remaining a "Genre of One." In an industry that demands you fit into a box, choosing to be a cinematic journalist was a risk that became my greatest authority.
Do you believe talent must suffer to grow?
I believe talent must be isolated to grow. Sometimes it takes being alone in the dark, removing every outside distraction, to truly see who you are. That is the core of "The Lounge After Dark"—growth happens when the noise stops.
What role does discipline play in your creative freedom?
It is the foundation. My time immersed in Swiss culture taught me that freedom without discipline is just chaos. I find my creative peace in the "quiet set" philosophy—much like Clint Eastwood, I believe in minimal noise and zero chaos.
Have you ever envied another artist’s path?
Never. My path is uniquely mine—a blend of film, fashion, and international press that doesn't exist elsewhere. You cannot envy a journey that you are busy inventing.
What’s the difference between ambition and obsession in your field?
Ambition wants the award; obsession wants the perfect shot. I lean toward obsession—the relentless need to document the "soul" of a moment until it is undeniably true.
If you had unlimited resources, what story would you tell?
I am currently orchestrating it: A global cinematic sweep through Prague, Vienna, Monaco, Switzerland, and Florence, capturing the intersection of modern luxury and ancient soul.
How do you protect your artistic identity in a commercial industry?
By owning my stats. When you have 78 million views, you no longer have to negotiate your identity; your results protect your vision for you.
Is there a stereotype about actors, directors, or screenwriters that you strongly disagree with?
The idea that a director must be a loud force. I find power in the "most invisible moments of observation." I prefer a quiet, focused environment where the truth of a scene can emerge without interference.
When everything fades — awards, fame, reviews — what do you hope remains of your work?
I hope the feeling of "The Lounge: After Dark" remains—that cinematic atmosphere that reminds people that life is meant to be lived with a touch of mystery and high-end orchestration.
Peter Sherman Crosby - Interview
Peter considers himself a Man of Mission: global vision, local lifestyle, universal heart. His first documentary feature film 'Oh My Beautiful Country: Journey to the West' just won 2 awards (Best Short Documentary and Silver Award: Web\Tv series) at New York Movie Awards, and it will premiere on March 13th at New York City's Cinema Village in the Socially Relevant Film Festival.
Interviewer: When did you first feel truly seen as an artist?
Peter Sherman Crosby: When Stella Adler, the heralded American acting teacher, gave me a kiss on the cheek at a 1984 public acting showcase in San Francisco. She later offered me a full scholarship to study with her at her new studio in LA.
Interviewer: Have you ever felt invisible in this industry?
Peter Sherman Crosby: LOL!
Interviewer: What does failure mean to you?
Peter Sherman Crosby: "Failure" isn't usually a disaster to me. It's a wake up call, a reminder my reality may not match other people's. Failure is part of learning and growth. Take learning a language as an example; I've muddled my way through French, Japanese, and Chinese only by making a conversational fool of myself. I also used to teach skiing, and would tell young students, "if you're not falling, you're not trying to learn." Then I'd immediately fall over. It was a laugh line that's become a personal philosophy.
Interviewer: Do you create more from love or from conflict?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Since I tend to see most people's nature as inherently good, I'm a lover by instinct. Love stories attract me and generate energy. But sometimes we need to fight for love. In my experience, the hardest challenge is to fight for love with love.
Interviewer: What’s a risk you’re still afraid to take?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Hmm, I usually head towards challenge, discomfort and change. I've found risk has its own rewards. Oftentimes, risk is the reward. My thought process on this is close to 'life is about the journey not the destination." That said, I've stayed away from marriage, not fear per se, but it would be a ripe place to dive in.
Interviewer: Have you evers surprised yourself with your own courage?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Courage is relative, right? And it's a muscle; The more we push beyond our perceptions of danger or loss with our actions, the easier it is to appear courageous to others who prefer convention and comfort.
Interviewer: What’s the hardest truth you’ve learned about this profession?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Getting people to see my films, tv, even photos is really difficult sometimes. Marketing is essential, but it's repetitive and endless. It kinda sucks.
Interviewer: Do you believe art should comfort or disturb?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Art is simply a tool like a technology that can be used for many purposes. Generating emotional responses is one threshold for achievement in the arts.
Interviewer: What part of your personality do you hide behind your work?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Sadness, the existential tragedy of life, isn't often present in my visual arts. That the inevitability of death is in Latin, 'momento mori," means it's not new. Neither is 'tempus fugit' for time flies, so my approach is 'carpe effing diem!'
Interviewer: Is there a collaboration that changed the way you see cinema?
Peter Sherman Crosby: I starred in an 8-episode documentary TV series about bicycling across China - for the second time - by National Geographic, China Global TV Network, and Bytedance Video. Working with a crew of 15 for 11 weeks on the road in China taught me about sustaining daily collaboration, creative vision, and artistic trust that propelled me into making my own doc series and film. 'Cycling China with Peter Crosby' on CGTN
Interviewer: When do you feel most exposed: during rehearsals, on set, or at the premiere?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Well, the world premiere of my first documentary feature is coming up on March 13 during the Socially Responsible Film Festival at NYC's Cinema Village. Now it feels like being naked in front of that audience would be less nerve-racking than this premiere.
Interviewer: Have you ever felt pressure to be someone you’re not?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Who in their lifetime hasn't played a role or a hundred outside themselves? We're all actors.
Interviewer: What’s a compliment you’ll never forget?
Peter Sherman Crosby: "You bring joy to the world!" from a fellow teacher during a Sustainable Global Leadership seminar in India.
Interviewer: Do you think your younger self would be proud of you today?
Peter Sherman Crosby: Hell , yeah, and amazed I'm still around!
Yu Enjian - Interview
Yu Enjian, a director, screenwriter, and founder of Aquarius Entertainment Technology, hails from Shanghai, China. His short films, animated shorts, documentaries, and AI films have won awards at over a dozen film festivals worldwide, including those in France, Italy, the United States, and South Korea. Before becoming a film director, he worked as an advertising director for numerous global brands, including Volkswagen, Ford, L'Oréal, Shiseido, and Adidas. He studied directing and screenwriting at the University of Southern California's School of Cinematic Arts and graduated from the Department of Art and Design at the China Academy of Art, where he also served as a mentor at the Academy's School of Innovation Design. As an artist, his works have been exhibited in New York, Portland, Hong Kong, Beijing, Shanghai, Hangzhou, Shenzhen, and other cities. He is dedicated to organically combining Hollywood models with Chinese stories, using cinematic art to connect diverse cultures.
Do you prefer Comedy or Drama?
I like both, but life is actually quite tough, so I probably prefer comedies.
Life imitates Art or Art imitates Life?
Art originates from life, but sometimes transcends it; ultimately, the foundation of all human art lies in our own lives.
Which is the best Moment on set?
The best moment begins when I say, "Action!"
Did anyone ever tell you weren't good enough?
Of course, your work and your films need to continuously improve, and the criticisms from these people can become the driving force for your progress.
How can you stay focused on your goal?
This requires you to have clear life and career goals, as well as strong intrinsic motivation.
Have you ever had a breakdown because of your Job?
This is common; any project—movie, animation, or commercial—can encounter various problems. But fortunately, I have enough perseverance to not give up easily.
Talent is a blessing or a curse?
Of course it's a blessing. Artistic work requires a lot of talent, and of course, hard work is needed later on.
What would you like to improve about yourself as director/screenwriter?
As a film director, I hope to have the opportunity to work on large-budget projects and collaborate with more international professional filmmakers.
What's the worst critic you have received?
There might not be the harshest situation, but the worst is when a customer tells you this isn't what they wanted.
If you weren't an actor/director/screenplayer what would you like to be?
It could be a musician, or a football or basketball player.
If Cinema was a color what would it be?
That must be a rainbow. Movies can be black and white, red, purple, or blue. Movies are the most colorful visual art in the world.
A day without a movie is...
In this era of short videos like TikTok, movies will increasingly become a new experience and a luxury. Therefore, I will watch movies regularly, but it won't become a daily necessity.
If someone offered you to play/direct/write in/a movie that you despice but that for sure will make you rich and famous...would you accept the job?
As a professional filmmaker, you can't always work on projects you love, but you also need to make a living, so you have to try everything you can whenever you have the chance.
What's your greatest ambition?
Bringing my original Chinese stories to audiences worldwide.
What's your biggest fear?
Fear of the cessation of imagination
Does music helps you to play/direct, write?
Music has had a huge impact on my creative work and life. The feature film I'm currently developing is about music, the story of a young DJ in Shanghai.
You have the chance to make a Silent movie, what's your message to the audience?
Just a few months ago, I used AI to create a silent short film, a brutal story about death and redemption.
Share your speech if you should win an Oscar...
I'll keep it a secret for now, but I hope that day will really come!
Vasco Diogo - Interview
Vasco Diogo is a Portuguese artist and video artist working at the intersection of experimental cinema, video art, and spiritual inquiry. His practice explores the instability of identity, the dissolution of meaning, and the porous boundaries between personal and collective memory. Positioning himself outside industrial cinema and established avant-garde traditions, he embraces process, chance, and emerging technologies — including artificial intelligence — as transformative forces within what he describes as a form of digital primitivism. Through archival material, performative gestures, and experimental image-making, his work investigates authorship, perception, and the possibility of transpersonal experience. His films function as perceptual and spiritual encounters rather than narrative constructions, inviting the viewer into states of uncertainty, openness, and introspective reflection.
Interviewer: Your recent films — Missing Meaning, Portraits of an Unverified Self, and This Archive Is Not Mine — seem to form a constellation around memory, identity, and the instability of truth. Do you see them as connected works?
Vasco Diogo: Yes, they emerge from the same existential necessity. I see them less as separate films and more as different manifestations of a single investigation — the impossibility of fixing identity and the instability of meaning. They question authorship, memory, and the idea of a coherent self. Each work approaches this from a different direction: the archive, the constructed self, and the dissolution of meaning itself. Together, they form a kind of spiritual and perceptual inquiry.
Interviewer: Before discussing the individual works, how do you position yourself as a filmmaker?
Vasco Diogo: I don’t primarily consider myself a filmmaker. I consider myself an artist — more specifically, a video artist. Cinema, for me, is a field of experimentation rather than an industry or a system of production. My work positions itself outside the industrial standards of cinema, but also outside the historical
conventions of the avant-garde. I am interested in the shock of the new — not as rupture for its own sake, but as a confrontation with perception itself.
I do not follow established structures of narration, production, or reception. The work emerges from artistic necessity rather than cinematic tradition.
Interviewer: Let’s start with Missing Meaning. What was the origin of this film?
Vasco Diogo: Missing Meaning began with photographs and videos I produced regularly over the course of a year — everyday recordings of existence. These materials were later expanded through artificial intelligence processes. The film was never guided by a controlling principle or a predetermined structure. What existed was
the commitment to an experimental process that accompanied a year of introspection and ego dissolution, in tension with any rational logic or interpretative framework. The film resists explanation. It embraces absence of meaning, but also nostalgia for meaning.
Interviewer: “Absence of meaning and nostalgia for meaning” is a powerful idea. Could you expand on that?
Vasco Diogo: We live surrounded by systems that impose interpretation — psychological, narrative, social. I wanted to move toward a space prior to interpretation, closer to a child’s gaze. A way of seeing that does not yet organize the world into coherent explanations. But this return is not innocent. It is haunted. There is a longing for meaning even as meaning
disappears. The film inhabits this paradox: the desire to understand and the simultaneous collapse of understanding. This space is also populated by the ghosts of death — not death as event, but as constant
presence shaping perception. Ultimately, the question of meaning is the least important aspect of the work. The films demand
openness from the viewer — a willingness to learn how to look again. This attitude belongs to contemporary art: the spectator must transform their own perception rather than decode a message.
Interviewer: The use of AI in Missing Meaning is striking. What role did it play in your process?
Vasco Diogo: AI functioned as a collaborator in destabilization. It extended my images beyond my own intention, producing transformations I could not fully control. This loss of control was essential. I am interested in what I call a kind of digital primitivism — an approach that embraces new
technologies instinctively, almost ritualistically, without seeking full mastery over them. Every major technological emergence — electricity, the internet, the smartphone — was initially perceived as a threat. Artificial intelligence is no different. Rather than fearing it, I incorporate it as a
transformative force. Technology becomes a space of mystery rather than a tool of control.
Interviewer: Your film Portraits of an Unverified Self also deals with instability, but in a more explicit way. What is the “unverified self”?
Vasco Diogo: The unverified self is the self that cannot be confirmed by external systems — not by memory, not by documentation, not by narrative coherence. It is a self in flux, a presence that resists validation. The film proposes identity as something constructed, fragmented, and perpetually uncertain. It challenges the authority of images to prove existence. Even when confronted with visual evidence, we cannot be certain of what or who is being represented.
Interviewer: And This Archive Is Not Mine — the title itself suggests displacement of authorship.
Vasco Diogo: Exactly. The film is built from archival footage belonging to another family, material I encountered and adopted. It questions the idea of ownership of memory. What happens when someone else’s past becomes the material of your own narrative?
The archive becomes a space of projection. It allows for the creation of a transpersonal experience — where personal history dissolves and identity becomes porous. The film suggests that memory itself may be a fiction we inhabit collectively.
Interviewer: There seems to be a recurring gesture in your work — letting go of control.
Vasco Diogo: Yes. Control reinforces the illusion of a stable self. My work attempts to move toward surrender — to process, to chance, to technological forces, and to spiritual dimensions beyond rational organization. I work alone, but not in isolation. There is always a dialogue with something beyond the individual will.
Interviewer: Your films also carry a strong spiritual dimension. How does spirituality inform your practice?
Vasco Diogo: Artistic practice is inseparable from spiritual inquiry. The works function as rituals rather than explanations. They explore the relationship between visible reality and invisible forces, between the material image and metaphysical experience. I am interested in art as a space where the self dissolves and something larger can emerge.
Interviewer: How do you hope viewers experience these films?
Vasco Diogo: I don’t hope for understanding. I hope for encounter.
If the spectator experiences disorientation, openness, or a suspension of interpretation, then the work is functioning. The films create a condition — a space where perception becomes uncertain and where the viewer confronts their own need for meaning.
Interviewer: If you had to describe the trajectory of these three works together, what would it be?
Vasco Diogo: A movement from identity toward disappearance. From the archive of others, to the instability of the self, to the erosion of meaning itself. But within that disappearance there is also liberation — the possibility of seeing again, as if for the first time.
Drew Kelly - Interview
Born in Launceston, Tasmania, and raised in the coastal wilds of Papua New Guinea, Drew Kelly grew up surrounded by the sea, jungles, and wildlife encounters that shaped his earliest memories. His fascination with imagery was sparked by his father, an adventurous skier and photographer who captured the dramatic landscapes of New Zealand. That legacy of visual storytelling became the foundation for Drew’s lifelong creative path. Drew’s YouTube wildlife channel has become a trusted resource for researchers, conservationists, documentary makers and audiences seeking authentic depictions of marine behaviour. His filmmaking blends artistic training, scientific curiosity, and a deep respect for the animals he observes. "Hunting Secrets of the Tropical Whale" is Drew’s first long-form documentary - an effort to bring global attention to a mysterious tropical whale whose story is still being written.
How old you were when you decided you wanted to be an actor/director/screenplayer?
I am not sure you can call a Wildlife Film maker a Director, but I have wanted to be a film maker since Art School. More importantly what I have discovered by filming significant events in nature is that the stories demand to be shared in sensitive manner. I felt a responsibility not so much a want.
For you a Film is...
A new way of seeing the world and yet a reminder of deep-seated feelings.
What do you feel when you're acting/directing/writing?
I should speak about when I am producing a film as a filmmaker. Even after a thousand edits when you are dealing with not actors but real life characters in nature, I cannot help but feel in awe and humbled by the privilege to witness these wild plays.
You can go to the Movies with an actor/director/screenplayer that you love. What kind of movie do you choose and with who you're going to watch it?
Movies about human longing and the recognition of love always affect me and I would love to see something powerful like that with an actor I danced with in Osaka clubs, Jennifer Connolly.
Audrey Hepburn used to say “Nothing is Impossible”, what do you think about it?
Well, you are asking a guy that got lost in Corporate IT for decades, who decided during Covid that he was going to pursue something meaning with the faith that it would lead to a better connection with reality and real people. I now know that is possible and priceless.
Can you live just of your passion?
Yes, I think so as long as you keep other things in balance, my passion for wildlife filmmaking has brought me friends up and down Australia and a real connection with life.
What's more important talent or luck?
If one of those talents is tenacity, I would say that brings you to a place where luck can collide in splendor.
You must go to a desert island, but you can bring with you just one movie...
First your mind goes to Cast Away, but I think you want something character rich, entertaining and life affirming so that you can at least escape mentally. So I would go with Four Weddings and a Funeral.
Have you ever accepted a part/ a movie to direct/ a script to write even if you didn't like the project?
If I equate that with corporate IT projects and clients – Yes income came before personal preference, then.
What's the best compliment you have received about your Job?
When I am travelling in my van, meeting people as I film wildlife events, I am constantly told “I wish I had your job” – Recognition that I am doing something that matters is the best compliment.
Are you satisfied about your career?
I no longer think about career in the same way. Once it was about accumulation for the future and I was good at that then. Now I hope to make the right decisions every day to satisfy a sense that I am headed in the right direction and I am growing.
Do you have a good luck charm?
Determination is my luck charm … perhaps a deep sense and belief in nature as well.
Which is the worst moment on set?
In my outdoors wildlife set it is dealing with hobbyist drone flyers when you are trying to get position for a shot.
How do you feel when a job you've been part of it's ending?
At the end of every migration season, when the action fades away, when I have to say goodbye to people I have met and it is time to return to the big smoke, I do feel quite down and have to ignite a new project to keep myself energised.
Have you ever lied to get a part/job?
While I was at Art school, I once told a restaurant that I could do Silver Service to get the job thinking - how hard can it be? … I didn’t last long.
If you should win an Oscar your first thought would go to…
David Attenborough and Jane Goodall for connecting us to the natural world.
Robert Edgar - Interview
Robert Edgar creates and employs software engines to examine mediated artifacts forged at his zone of proximal development. Robert was born in Chicago, Illinois, and raised in Cocoa Beach Florida, in the early days of the U.S. space program. He received a Masters Degree in fine arts film production from Syracuse University’s College of Visual and Performing Arts. He’s been working in the overlapping fields of cinema, computing and audio composition since the early 1970s. He moved to Silicon Valley in 1978 and learned to program. He programmed Memory Theatre One in 1984, one of the first interactive art works programmed on a personal computer. He extended his programming into video interactivity with Living Cinema (1987), Sand, or How Computers Dream of Truth in Cinema (1994), his Simultaneous Opposites Engine (2008 – Present), his study of temporalities “Apperception” (2024), and his music video STOP LIGHT MOON (2025).
When did you decide you wanted to be an actor/director/ screenplayer?
Well, I didn’t… want to be anything… I just liked media. Before college I played mostly rock and roll. Then I started listening to Stockhausen, and then got to college at Syracuse, and started playing with Sony Portapaks and grease-pen editing in the very early 1970s. I was part of a video co-op called Synapse Video at Syracuse University, Bill Viola was too, and was a fellow art student there. At the same time I’d hitchhike to Manhattan and my high school friend Robert Polidori worked at the newly opened Anthology Film Archives, where he’d pull out a dozen cans and we’d watch Snow, Brakhage, Godard, Sharits, Markopolos, and others. And I became an art major and ended up spending my time playing with video, 16mm film, and Moog synthesizer. At the time, none of these pointed to a future career, but they were my present.
How did your family react?
My Mom was an artist and art teacher, so she was fine with it. My Dad was an engineer, and he accused my Mom and I of plotting somehow against him for me to go into art. He never really cared to understand what I was doing, but he calmed down after a while, and let me be.
Do you have a Muse or a Role Model?
Oh, a lot of them, I think. My wife Merrilee has been a muse for decades. Professors O. Charles Giordano and Larry Bakke in the Department of Synaesthetic Education at Syracuse, I was close to both of them. I mentioned Robert Polidori, as well as my mother… her art students included me, Polidori, and the graphic designer David Carson, who I used to surf (and draw) with back in high school. I’ve always thought Steve Reich navigated creation, philosophy, and history beautifully. Filmmakers Ken Jacobs and Michael Snow. And my son Robin who is a graphic artist; and daughter Meredith who is a singer-songwriter in San Francisco.
Who's your biggest fan?
Perhaps my dear friend Peter Matussek. I’m his biggest fan too, although he has many. I met Peter in Berlin, where he was a prominent Goethe scholar, who moved into an interest in memory theaters, and then into media aesthetics. In the late 1900s, Peter and Dr. Kirsten Wagner were teaching at Humbolt University and studying the history of memory theaters. They discovered my early computer art piece “Memory Theatre One”, and brought me to Germany for a conference. We’ve remained close ever since. They’re both beyond brilliant. Peter loves my music video “STOP LIGHT MOON”.
What brings you inspiration the most?
Of course people, but when a medium I’m playing with allows me to sense something new… that is what literally “brings inspiration”. How does meaning work? Usually not story lines or arcs… it’s media and how it makes our senses resonate. The rhythm and timbre of sound, the mucky color of paint and taste of bitters… how these flow out of the world and into the media and give us feeling. As an artist working with media, it’s like a divining rod, you move it around and follow it as it leads you toward the most powerful meaning. I don’t care about expression, that’s too far in the past to consider when I’m actually involved in creating.
Which actor or director would you like to work with?
I don’t work with actors much. Nothing against them, I just haven’t. I like talking with directors, but working with them would just lead to exasperation… they with me and me with them. Cinematographers are another matter.
Have you ever seen a film that was better than the book?
Polidori has a book “60 Feet Road”. It’s one of my favorite books of his. I worked with him on a project that lasted a few years, programming kinds of digital optical printer functions for reformatting footage he’d shot. At the time, he had film footage he’d shot in India at the site of where he did the still photography for the book. It’s been a few years, and while he’s not using those programs, he’s working with the footage, and I think I like it even better than the book. Pretty amazing stuff.
What's the movie that taught you the most?
By someone else? “Wavelength” by Michael Snow. By me? “Apperception”.
About your artistic career, have you ever had the desire to quit everything?
“Desire” is a strange word to pair with “quit”. Quitting everything would likely be due to lack of desire: anesthesia. For a few years in the late 1970s/early 1980s I wasn’t making a living with film or video, and I started feeling despondent. Then came personal computers and programming, and then video discs, and it came together for me when a friend and I started a company producing interactive video disc systems. I was synthesized anew.
On set what excites you the most?
For the last few decades I’ve existed between video and computers. I have cameras with me and I capture what’s there—like Brakhage. Of course, today, everyone with an iPhone. Then I bring it to software that I write myself and transform it. What excites me the most is when I have new ideas for relationships between image capture and image manipulation, with juxtapositions that I haven’t seen done before. I’m excited by 360 video capture, and used it in parts of Apperception, and elsewhere.
And what scares you the most ?
Fanatic authoritarianism, combined with a populace that misunderstands media. Scares the shit out of me.
What's your next project?
I’m working with a programming environment called MAX/MSP Jitter, one I’ve worked with for years, most often with my “Simultaneous Opposites Engine”. Right now I’m looking to design a compositional/performance engine that allows me to feed it musical compositions that I hack up and re-present, modifying it along an axis of single melody to varied note clusters up to the range of a 88-key piano. I’ll pre-program some of the modification, but will also program the ability to modify it as I play, triggering it with a MIDI guitar. This is about my third pass at similar musical performance systems, the first one “The Duchamp Examinations” I worked with in the early 2000s. My “Simultaneous Opposites Engine” is related, but is more a cinema system than just musical.
You can steal the career of an artist you really admire, who do you choose?
I don’t know how to answer that one. Artists create themselves. What would it mean to create someone else who already created themselves? The work’s already done. For better or worse, I’ll work with what I have, where I have it.
An actor/director/screenplayer is made of....
Stuff than includes and doesn’t include language.
For you Cinema is....
A movement between synaesthesia and apperception. (Please leave the “a” in “synaesthesia”).
Do you think Black and white movies have a powerful impact?
Yes, even if you project them.
Have you ever dreamed of winning an Oscar?
No.
Do you think you're gonna win it?
Why would I?
Marla Eaton - Interview
Marla Eaton is a screenwriter drawn to original, character-driven stories that balance dark humor with emotional truth. She began developing story ideas at age twelve, when characters first started taking on lives of their own. Her work emphasizes strong female perspectives, visual storytelling, and twists that challenge expectations. Alongside her writing, Marla works as an activity director with seniors — a profession that grounds her work in empathy, resilience, and authentic human experience.
What’s the absolutely necessary ingredient to be a good actor/director/screenwriter?
As a screenwriter, it’s being willing to kill your darlings — even when it hurts — and remembering that film is a visual medium. Less explaining, more showing.
First and last cinematographic crush?
I’m not sure I’ve ever had a classic “cinematographic crush.” I enjoy films across many genres, but what excites me most is a twist I don’t see coming — because as a writer, I usually think I know how a story will end.
How old were you when you decided you wanted to be an actor/director/screenwriter?
I was about 12 when I started coming up with story ideas. The characters felt very alive in my head, and the stories flowed naturally — long before I thought of it as “writing.”
For you, a film is…
A really good story brought to life on screen.
What do you feel when you’re acting/directing/writing?
When I’m writing, I feel energized. The characters feel real, and it feels like something that needs to get out.
You can go to the movies with an actor/director/screenwriter you love. What do you watch, and with whom?
I’m drawn to original films with strong female characters, compelling stories, and twists that keep you guessing. I care more about the movie — and the conversation afterward — than who’s sitting next to me.
Audrey Hepburn said, “Nothing is impossible.” What do you think?
I believe nothing is impossible. The word itself has “possible” right in it.
Can you live just off your passion?
It’s not always possible to live solely off your passion, but it helps if you care deeply about what you’re doing. I’m not making a living from writing yet, but I work as an activity director with seniors — and I’m passionate about that work.
What’s more important: talent or luck?
Talent is critical, but a little luck helps make sure that talent gets noticed.
You’re going to a desert island and can bring only one movie. Which one?
Music and Lyrics. It’s endlessly rewatchable, and I’ve always had a passion for ’80s music and that era — it’s something I’d never get tired of.
Have you ever accepted a project you didn’t like?
No. If I’m going to commit to something, I need to believe in it.
What’s the best compliment you’ve received about your work?
That someone understood the humor, was rooting for the characters, and genuinely didn’t see the twist coming.
Are you satisfied with your career?
I’m satisfied with what I’ve written so far, but I’m already developing the next project and starting to think about bringing this one to the screen.
Do you have a good luck charm?
I don’t. I rely more on imagination and creativity.
What’s the worst moment on set (or in the process)?
As a writer, it’s realizing something didn’t save and having to recreate it.
How do you feel when a project you’ve worked on ends?
I’m glad I got the story out. I may go back and tweak it, but usually I move on as other stories and characters start demanding attention.
Have you ever lied to get a job or part?
No. I’d rather be upfront about what I can do.
If you won an Oscar, who would your first thought go to?
My mom — without question. And the people who’ve supported me along the way.
Dean Morgan - Interview
I have over 650 awards including Indie Oscars, tony, emmy, grammy, golden globe and more. Every film I have made has won an award, I was given the title of best comedian 2025 by the critics as well. I write, produce, direct and star in all my movies. I currently own a healthcare company call healthcaresmc or Standard medical Co-Op. Transport business called Baby Boomer buddies, and production company Mashugana Productions. I play 2 characters, Sheldon Mashugana and The Macher in my movies. I'm also a Rabbi, and did a show on Netflix called Love is Blind. I have a wife and 2 grown kids. Live in Dallas Texas.
Do you prefer Comedy or Drama?
Comedy
Life imitates Art or Art imitates Life?
Art imitates life, I always take my experiences and put them on camera
Which is the best Moment on set?
When I'm playing Sheldon
Did anyone ever tell you weren't good enough?
No
How can you stay focused on your goal?
Yes, be consistant and don't back down, this is how you get things done, whenever there is an obsticle, keep right on going, don't stop
Have you ever had a breakdown because of your Job?
When I was young and learning, I was sued for the first time, then I lost it
Talent is a blessing or a curse?
Blessed. talent is inside you, you have to bring it out with experience.
What would you like to improve about yourself as an
actor/director/screenplayer?
Nothing at the moment, just trying to put together movies, Sheldon Mashugana returns to the future is a project that is ready to shoot, but we are having issues with funds.
What's the worst critic you have received?
None I have ever seen. I don't like people making fun of sheldon as if hes a joke in the sense of the actor, maybe I'm too sensitive. As for any professional critics, there has been nothing but praise and delight from everyone.
If you weren't an actor/director/screenplayer what would you like to be?
I own a healthcare company called healthcaresmc and we are saving the world by helping with mental health and emotional well being.
If Cinema was a color what would it be?
Red for the attention you get to the screen.
A day without a movie is...
...a day I go travel.
If someone offered you to play/direct/write in/a movie that you despice
but that for sure will make you rich and famous...would you accept the job?
No, you have to love what you do
What's your greatest ambition?
To make people laugh. I also sing. there will be a bunch of new songs coming out this year with sheldon singing.
What's your biggest fear?
Not being able to finish my projects
Does music helps you to play/direct, write?
No
You have the chance to make a Silent movie, what's your message to the
audience?
I did one called Picture me This, it's a short you can watch on YouTube. The key is the music.
Share your speech if you should win an Oscar.....
Thanks to my family and friends for putting up with my craziness, and all my cast members for helpng me make my dream come true. Thanks to the Academy for giving me this award. Sheldon wants to hay Hi. HI THERE, AM I WATCHING TV OR IS THERE A LOT OF COOL PEOPLE OUT THERE!, SORRY I POOTED.!!!