John Rizzo - Interview

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Is there a moment in your career that still keeps you awake at night? 

I took huge risks many times. Crazy risks, because I wanted so badly to be an artist and not be stuck in an office job. I moved to New York City from upstate during a recession. I made a 7-hour drive to New York City at night through a blinding snowstorm and winding roads in the Catskill mountains. My check engine light went on and didn't go off. I was afraid I would be stranded. Cell phones didn't yet exist. I just kept driving. When I got there, I didn't know anyone and didn't bring any clients with me. I had no money and no credit available on my credit cards. A family member had an empty sublet that I stayed at for a few months, but it was owned by an alcoholic and sometimes I was thrown out without warning. 

Do you create more from love or from conflict? 

Love is always the theme in my work. I am always looking for the healing since there is so much hate and misery in the world today. My job as a filmmaker is to be a bridge to something better.

What’s a risk you’re still afraid to take? 

I have been through everything imaginable in the visual arts. On September 11th at the World Trade Center, I had the good fortune of a NYPD officer grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and yelling, "I don't care if you are here from Jesus Christ, you gotta get out of here!" Twenty minutes later, the South Tower fell. He saved my life. I often tell myself there isn't anything you can throw at me that I cannot handle. 

Have you ever surprised yourself with your own courage? 

Even today, I sometimes get nervous before a gig. There are so many variables in film production, things that you can control and those you cannot. You always have to be ready to improvise without warning. I try not to overthink what I will do and just go with the energy, and it someys works out. It's like flipping a light switch...you turn it on and then you go. I follow my instincts. 

What’s the hardest truth you’ve learned about this profession? 

Success isn't always tied to the quality of the work. And film production requires taking greater risks of both time and money. The degree of commitment to make something great has to be in your bones. 

Do you believe art should comfort or disturb? 

Art needs to create a reaction, to make the audience think, to move the needle. Filmmaking is a medium that can change lives through storytelling. It doesn't matter if it comforts or disturbs.

What part of your personality do you hide behind your work?

 I am a good listener. I listen before I talk. I always learn so much by listening. Although I may be seen as a take-charge Type A personality, that part of me is doing the work that was formed by listening.

Is there a collaboration that changed the way you see cinema?

I have always admired great storytelling. A simple story does not have to be complicated to be powerful. As a boy, I saw A Patch of Blue and Lillies Of The Field, both with Sidney Poitier. Simple stories, small casts, powerful messages about our strengths and weaknesses as humans. 

When do you feel most exposed: during rehearsals, on set, or at the premiere? 

Definitely, the premiere is the hardest part because I don't know what the audience is going to think. An enormous amount of time and energy has been spent to make something, yet I never know how it will be received.

Have you ever felt pressure to be someone you’re not? 

As artists, we are always chasing success, while trying to balance being true to ourselves and our art. That is a very tricky tightrope to walk. All artists imitate those they admire, in the quest to find their own voice. When I was in the Philippines a few years ago interviewing some transgender men, they asked me, "Why are you doing this? You are older and you're cisgender?" I told them, "I am finding my voice." It can take a lifetime to find one's voice.

What’s a compliment you’ll never forget? 

A filmmaker colleague, upon learning of my Italian roots, said, "Oh, that's where the passion comes from."

Do you think your younger self would be proud of you today? 

Since the road to success was a rocky one, my younger self would never have dreamed about what has happened, that we could actually make it. 

What do you chase more: perfection or authenticity? 

Authenticity is the hardest quality to achieve. It has to come from deep inside the creator. Perfection is fleeting and often not necessary. 

Have you ever created something that scared you? 

No, I have never created something that scared me.

If your career were a film genre, which one would it be?

 Definitely a drama. As in life, so many crazy, challenging and unexpected things have happened that it would make a very interesting story. And No, I would not want to do it all over again!

Did anyone tell you you were not good enough?

I cut my teeth in the filmmaking world as an actor and probably went to approximately a thousand auditions. So I would say every time I was not chosen, which was the vast majority of the time, I was told I wasn’t good enough. 

How can you stay focused on your goal?

I, honestly, have a harder time with living a balanced life than with focusing on meeting a particular goal I’ve set for myself. I can become rather obsessive about meeting my goals. Especially if that goal has to do with a creative project that I’m passionate about. The last few years, I have been striving for balance, especially as I have had a few health issues. A lesson I keep having to learn and relearn is that my value as a human being is not intrinsically tied to my work or what I can create. God gave me all the worth I will ever need just by existing. Now I just need to try and remember that.

Have you ever had a breakdown because of your job?

I definitely feel like there is a breaking point with every project you take on. There’s always a point where you don’t think the project will work and that you have failed, usually in that space is where the best ideas come from. I think the key to all of it is to keep going, even when you want to break down and quit. If you press on, eventually you reach the good stuff: a finished movie that you are proud of.

Talent is a blessing or a curse?

Talent is most definitely a blessing straight from God. I don’t really buy into the whole tortured artist routine. I’ve been through some of the hardest things imaginable, and the talent I had to create stories helped me survive. Hopefully, from now on, some of the stories I tell can help others survive their own hard times.

What would you like to improve about yourself as an artist?

I think there are so many things I could improve! I wear a few different hats: writer, director, and actor. I think the one thing they all have in common is the search for truth and the ability to communicate it. Ever since my accident, I’ve been on a similar journey in my own personal life and have noticed that my stories have become better and better as a part of it. That’s the nice thing about being an artist: everything in your life can be used to improve your art if you will let it. But to answer your question, I want to be better about telling the full truth, both in real life and in my work as an artist.

What’s the worst critic you have received?

Quite a few years ago now, I did a Superman fan film where the main character, played by myself, Jimmy Olson searched for the truth about the death of Superman. I remember that I sent it to a film festival for review. One of the reviews stood out to me; this person claimed that Jimmy Olsen was more or less a bumbling idiot and that I had completely changed the character to make him more confident and assertive. Any character in comics, but especially a character with as deep a history as Jimmy Olson, has been changed to fit the story that the artist wants to tell hundreds of times.  Jimmy Olson’s character has ranged from a bumbling idiot to Superman’s right-hand man to having the ability of a superhero himself. Needless to say, the reviewer did not have any of this knowledge and reviewed my film very poorly due to it. It’s the worst and harshest review I’ve ever received, because it was straight up wrong. I have pretty thick skin and can take a very harsh review, but at least be accurate with it.

 If you were not an artist, what would you be?

I don’t know who this quote is from, but I think it is incredibly accurate: “If you can be anything other than an artist, do that.” I have always taken those words to heart and never truly had a backup plan. In my condition now, there are less options out there for me to pursue as a job, but God still gave me the ability to make films and tell stories, for which I am eternally grateful.

If cinema were a color what would it be?

I believe that cinema is every color. I think that is the magic of movies. It speaks to everyone in different ways, just like colors do. Regardless of anything else, I can guarantee that there is a movie that can speak to any individual on this planet.

A day without a movie is?

A day that I have hopefully spent on set creating a new movie.

If someone offered you to create a movie that you despise, but that for sure will make you rich and famous, would you take that job?

That’s been the easiest question so far; no.

“For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?”  Matthew 16:26

 I tell stories to inspire people; if that’s not the end result of a movie that I spent my blood, sweat, and tears on, then I’m not interested.

What’s your greatest ambition?

My greatest ambition in life is to help as many people as I possibly can. I love film and stories, but if I feel like God is telling me that I could help more people by doing something different, then that will be my new greatest ambition.

Selfishly, I would say to create a feature film that ends up in movie theaters nationwide. But that is definitely secondary to what my main goal should be, and is: people.

What’s your greatest fear?

Honestly? All of my greatest fears have happened in a pretty short span. I was paralyzed for life, owed millions of dollars in medical debt, went through a messy divorce with my best friend, needed support and moved back in with my parents, have had consistent hospital visits for, at times, life-threatening reasons, and have had some of those “ride or die” friends disappear the moment I actually needed them. I don’t mean to sound super depressing on that answer. It definitely is not all bad to have so many of your terrible fears happen to you and survive them. It gives you a deeper understanding of humanity and what kind of storyteller you want to be going forward. 

On a personal note, it also requires you to really examine your faith and the people around you. I’ve had so many incredible moments that have solidified my faith both in God and humanity. So many people, some of them very unlikely, have stepped up and shown me what true friendship/family is, and for those people, I am eternally grateful.

Special shout out to: my parents, grandparents, aunt, caretaker, forever friends I’ve made through filmmaking (you know who you are and I love you all), and friends from church who came from nowhere and made a huge difference.

Does music help you to create?

It absolutely does! I always feel like my brain is working on multiple tracks, so playing some chill singer-songwriter music in the background will really help me write. 

You have a chance to make a silent movie, what’s your message to the audience?

What is crazy is that last year I created a silent movie! The message was to hold onto our family members, especially the older ones, because you don’t know if you’re going to have that chance forever. Show them the love that God calls for:

“Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it keeps no records of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”  1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Share your speech if you were to win an Oscar: 

I want to thank the Academy, my amazing parents, who have truly been there with me through the darkest days, and who I love immensely. My amazing friends, some have become family by their amazing hearts and actions towards me when I had nothing to give them. The cast and crew, who, I’m sure, all worked as hard as I did to make this movie as great as it was. Lastly, I would like to thank Jesus. He was there for me when I didn’t think life could get any harder and has walked with me, patiently, lovingly, to where I’m at today. If anybody out there is feeling lonely or depressed, Jesus is calling for you, and you will experience more love than you ever thought was possible. Just invite him along for the ride, and I promise you will not regret it. Thank you all and good night.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

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.!!!