My love of film began in music. In my early work, I would build films around a soundtrack, shooting and editing to its rhythm. I treated the camera almost like an instrument, using whip pans, rapid zooms, and other abrupt movements to give the image a driving pulse. That musical approach brought some commercial interest to my work, but after several years I began to feel like I was repeating myself. The films still moved, but my interest in them had faded.

To recover a sense of discovery, I recently decided to make films without music. That decision changed the way I saw. Without a soundtrack telling me how to cut, I began to notice quieter rhythms already present in the footage itself: a shadow receding, a reflection trembling, a flare of light softening the frame. I found that the images had their own cadence, and my task was not to decorate them, but reveal the music that was already there.