Directing a film, for me, is about choosing the lens—literally and metaphorically—through which my story will be told. Sometimes I step into the role of a visionary, focusing on visual composition and mood. Other times, I’m deep in the trenches with the actors, working to unlock raw, authentic performances. With And On That Day, I found myself blending multiple approaches. There was a minimalist stillness in the park bench scene that allowed the emotion to breathe, and yet I also relied on structure and pacing to slowly reveal the story. I didn’t always plan for these angles—they emerged naturally—but looking back, I see how each one contributed to the final experience. I’ve learned that no single directing style is sacred. Flexibility is key. One moment I’m orchestrating a delicate emotional beat, the next I’m adapting to a lighting change or a location issue like a guerrilla filmmaker. That’s the beauty of directing—reading the energy on set and adjusting in real time. What made And On That Day special was how all these angles worked together to serve the story. Now, moving forward, I want to be more intentional with my choices—knowing when to trust instinct, when to lean into structure, and when to just let a scene breathe. 🎬 Three Things I’m Doing to Become a Better Filmmaker: 1. Watching films like a director, not just a fan. I analyze how scenes are shot, lit, blocked, and edited, and I think about how I would’ve approached them. 2. Rehearsing with actors more deeply. I’m spending more time exploring characters with the cast so that their performances feel lived-in from day one. 3. Shooting short scenes regularly. Even without a full production, I’m keeping myself sharp by filming quick scenes—testing new techniques, trying different styles, and learning from every frame.