LA-based Writer, Director, and Producer

            Talent is overrated. Honestly, as someone who constantly bashes himself for not being talented enough, I might be kind of contradicting myself by saying this. Still, I’m somewhat able to look beyond what my personal expectations of myself are, and objectively state that talent is practically irrelevant in the creative process. Throughout my life I’ve met dozens of talented people. A lot of my classmates, ever since the first grade, demonstrated great artistic ability, whether it was at drawing, painting, singing, or playing an instrument. Teachers and students alike often praised these people because of their great talent, and needless to say, I wasn’t one of them. As much as I wanted to, I was never great at drawing or singing, and I could’ve sworn every musical instrument hated my guts. Regardless of my lack of talent I kept drawing and I kept singing, both of which I loved. Did I get better? Not much, to be honest, but I noticed something else. Neither did a lot of the people who were so talented in the first place.

            My lack of talent for any form of tangible art, however, never stopped me from exploring the possibilities of art making. If one thing kept me going throughout my life was my ever-present love for movies, particularly Disney ones. These sparked a passion for storytelling inside of me that would never go away. And what started out as crossover fan-fictions with my Disney toys, or staging puppet shows for my parents, quickly evolved into something greater than anything I ever expected. Despite my quite pathetic drawings, I even gave making my own comics a shot. I planned out TV shows (and embarrassingly enough mailed out pitches to several different networks), and even movies. Movies I was so eager to get out of my head that I acted them out with my toys (something I totally didn’t keep doing until a few days before I left for college). I just kept trying new different ways to get my ideas out my head. No matter what medium I tried, though, I always felt dissatisfied with what I had done, and people constantly told me it just wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t talented enough. And well… they were right.

            But here’s the thing: art doesn’t really demand talent from you, or at least that’s what I’ve learned with practice. As cornily bohemian as it might sound, art demands passion, love, truth, and effort more than anything else. If you’re talented, ability is all you have. What good is that? So throughout the years I never let my lack of talent definite my artistic boundaries. Almost by definition, art is risk. That means trying hundreds of different things that you know are probably going to fail. I probably didn’t know it back then, but I was dominating the artistic process by trying out so many different ways to express myself and tell my stories. By elimination, my chosen medium ended up being film and I’m insanely thankful for that. Only through movies, both realized or still in development, have I been able to fulfill the creative drive that has been with me all my life. And what better way to develop my skills in this medium than to apply for a film program at an institute that represents these same art making values? And not only that, but an institute that was also founded by my personal hero, thanks to whom I interested myself in film in the first place.

Reality was always too boring for me; I wanted more. I needed more. You don’t spend your whole childhood relating to Disney characters without wondering why that is. They always wanted more, something bigger than their own selves, and that’s what I want. My parents and teachers constantly told me I needed to be more realistic and more focused on the world I am part of instead of the make-believe ones in my mind. I was told math and science were the most important things I could learn. I was told my dad’s footsteps were set for me to follow into the path of industrial engineering. I was told I lived in a troubled country with no room for artists. I was told that’s how the world was and I couldn’t do anything to change its ways.

            Early in my life I decided this world wasn’t the one I wanted to be part of. I wanted new exciting worlds where things weren’t set in stone. That always drove my artistic goals forward: the need to go against the rules and create new fantastic worlds. It wasn’t until much later on that I realized it wasn’t only about creating new worlds. I mean, sure, that’s the first part, but the second one is just as important. The rules are not just to be broken in made up artistic worlds, but in the real world as well. I realized that with art I had powers beyond my six-year-old self’s imagination. It wasn’t just what was written on my textbooks that mattered, nor what my parents told me was the way to succeed. What I had to say, think, write, and create had solid weight too. I could do something with film that was beyond what was initially expected of me. Through art I could actually remake the world.