Making movies is radical.
As in … it’s a radical act to upset the status quo by (a) following my own path, (b) carving out a niche for myself here in the South instead of moving to LA, and (c) using my voice to make a difference in the world.
The funny thing is that I’m not a radical. I’ve always been a peace keeper who avoids rocking the boat. Maybe being polite is a Southern thing. Maybe I worked retail for way too long. Maybe keeping quiet is a gender thing I was taught somewhere along the way. Maybe none of that matters…
For better or worse, I think I’m coming to the end of that season in my life.
Now I’m entering a season of standing with confidence, not tolerating any BS, and preparing to go really big (with people I respect and adore). I’m ready to take this career to the next level, so I can show others it’s possible.
And, for the record, I do find it a bit terrifying.
But what’s more terrifying are the consequences of not following my dreams, being brave enough to take the next step, and living with the regret that I could’ve done something bold but didn’t. In other words, I don’t want to be a chicken because I’ve lived with fear too long – and it has never served me well.
The reason I fell into documentaries was the possibility that making art could make a difference.
When I was an impressionable youngin’, I studied Emerson’s work a lot. The journals I kept as a 15 year old were filled with frustrations and ideas about making my life mean something. (Like, leaving a lasting legacy kind of thing.) One of his lines I fell in love with has always stuck with me:
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived, this is to have succeeded.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
It feels good to help others. It doesn’t take much to have a positive impact in someone’s life. And, the funny thing is, when you help others you actually lighten your own burden in the process.
It also felt good to define success for myself. To know that I could be in charge of that, and not look to someone else to validate my experience, efforts, or existence. I’m living the dream right now, making movies my way.
And that’s part of what stirs me to keep going.
We’re living in such a messy time. Most people I talk to feel frightened, frustrated, and exhausted. We’re all looking outward for answers, guidance, and a path forward.
What I’ve learned from making movies is that art is political. In everything I’ve studied over the years, the two are painstakingly connected. To be politically correct (as to not offend anyone) means the final product is pretty benign. And that’s a waste of valuable resources like time, money, and energy. It’s also a waste of your valuable life.
As artists, we have the power to heal wounds within our society.
You can use your skills to create change.
You can facilitate conversations that lead people to new conclusions.
You have all of the resources you need right here, right now.
Your voice matters. You are enough. Your story is important. You have the power to make a positive difference in someone’s life – no matter how large or small. You can listen, speak up, and have thoughtful conversations.
My deepest hope is that you’ll remember: you are loved.