The road that changes the man traveling it, and the machine that carries the weight of everything he hasn't said yet. The dust, and the vibration in the hands, and the moment someone looks at the horizon like it owes him something.
I make documentaries about the friction between human beings and the things they build — engines, landscapes, traditions, obsessions. I am interested in what happens when a person and their work have been together long enough to resemble each other.
My work moves between two registers: formal, carefully lit interviews where people speak slowly and mean it, and handheld cinematography that follows the action without asking permission. The distance between these two modes is where the story lives.
Why documentary
Because some stories need time to unfold. A promotional video shows you what something looks like. A documentary shows you what it costs — the early mornings, the small failures, the silence between two people who have worked together for thirty years and don't need to speak anymore. That silence is the real story. I am here for that.
I know how to bring a project from the first location scout to the final grade — and I know that the most important frame is always the one nobody planned.
