EMPTY_SPACE.mov

Originally, I intended to create a horror narrative about my fear of machine learning, data collection, and surveillance. But when my father suddenly passed, I couldn’t focus on anything but his death. I changed the story around to reflect what I was going through. However, every time I tried to write the screenplay I would get flashbacks of his funeral, and the emotional pain made it impossible for me to complete it. With a crucial deadline looming, it was recommended that I turn the camera on myself and see what I got.

The magic of documentary filmmaking is that you don’t know what you’ll get until you look at what’s already been shot. In the forty hours of footage I had, I kept asking myself why I was doing certain things: Why did I need to find my dad in a wrestling pay-per-view? Why did I need to look for his baseball glove in his room? Why did I need to replay an old game he had? It was only in the edit that I realized I was trying to search for a way to say goodbye to him.

This is why this movie is so important to me. I got to see a perspective of myself outside of my head. Had I not experimented with this documentary–something I’ve never done before–my positive memories of him would still be tainted with heartache. As much as I would have loved to create a solid horror story that showcased my skill in screenwriting, the catharsis was necessary for my mental and emotional wellbeing.