D I R E C T O R & E D I T O R
With ten years working experience as film and commercial DIRECTOR & EDITOR, and PHOTOGRAPHER, I am comfortable working on scripted and non-scripted content. My work focuses on creating an emotional connection through visual storytelling.
It is within the realm of a story that a personal array of ideas, rhythms and concepts allow me to feel confident and reach a creative state of mind.
There isn't an ultimate end to the creative process, so I continue to develop my craft and style through every story that still needs telling.
BARACOA
The beach, the town and memories are all places of poetry and dreams.
For you, they all probably mean very different things, or maybe in some abstract thoughts, they all come together to highlight a moment of your life. It is through one of these excerpts of life that I attempt to reach out to you to portrait an illustrated dream.
I grew up under the Cuban sun, an island infused with poetry and dreams. And I clearly remember Baraco, a costal town full of life in every corner: the strolling vendors, the makeshift butchery/grocery stalls, the old lady sweeping her patio, the laundry drying on the line, and in the far distance the fuss and the splashing of the youngsters, who enjoyed the sea and no responsibilities. Back then, we knew there was more to life than dreams, but we really only cared for the dreams. We also knew how to build memories, to listen for the silence in the storm, and that the sea water burns when it dries on your skin under the sun.
Barefoot and with the sun beating down, I ran through the town skipping the boiling pavement as much as I could. I followed the commotion to the one and only dock in town, which extended into the water. It was a perfect spot to socialize and test our misunderstood theories about adulthood, manhood and diving.
I loved the simple joy of diving into the water, the splashing, the bragging as to who does it better, but I was mostly interested in a girl. Her smile made all the splashing and bragging worthwhile. Her manners were soft like the brushing of the tiny waves against the wooden dock. I saw her from the distance talking to Javi, who was drawing laughters and attention from just about everyone. He then pushed through the crowd and took a dive from the dock. It wasn’t the beauty of the dive or the magnitude of the splash, but his carefree nature that grabbed her attention along with everyone else’s. Even the ocean water felt his vibe.
He was funny, daring and impulsive, and his impulses always seemed to lead him in the right direction. Or maybe, he was just one to be in tune with his true nature despite his tender years. I would not say that for myself. I was in tune with my feelings for her and my desire to be free without truly understanding what that meant. I announced my arrival by pushing through the crowd and diving in a similar manner. Some of the guys were happy to see me, but her eyes were still on Javi. A couple of the guys followed my jump yelling like the world was about to end. It was my tiny, immature world that came to a halt amid the splashing. But I couldn’t be mad.
It is a glorious thing to be the thief of a heart.
I pondered on that thought through more splashing and more laughters, though I remained quiet, serene like the distant ocean we couldn’t see. I witnessed the highlights of the evening and the fall of the sun. For the others, the fun came to an end with the gloomy light of dawn, and when the water had settled like a shiny mirror and everyone had left, I sat on the dock to breathe in the last sunshine.
Eventually, the bleeding horizon faded out along with the last smiles, the memories, the unfaithful plans, the desires, the maybes, the last chance, and amongst the blues and the dark yellows, I understood a little bit more about the freedom that comes with a dream.