lMy journey into filmmaking didn’t start with lights or cameras, it started with silence. While studying psychology at university, I began filming quiet moments of people on buses, in cafés, in parks. I wasn’t trying to make a film; I was trying to understand people. Looking back, that quiet curiosity became the foundation of everything I do now.
Early Influences
I grew up in Leicester, a city that hums with stories. My parents ran a small corner shop and we lived above it. Every day, dozens of lives passed through that door, each person with their own rhythm and routine. When I later discovered documentary filmmaking, it felt familiar: observing life quietly and letting people be who they are.
From Documentary to Fiction
My first short, Still Here, followed an elderly couple running the last laundrette in our area. It played at a few local festivals before I decided to take that same realism and apply it to fiction. That became Driftwood , a short film about a boy who can’t sleep because he’s afraid the world will forget him. We filmed it over three nights with borrowed lights, a camera from my university, and a team of five.
Learning Through Limitations
We shot Driftwood in January, in freezing temperatures. The generator failed, the lens fogged, and our lead actor caught the flu. But we kept going. I realised small crews aren’t a limitation, they’re a strength. You adapt faster, think more creatively, and find beauty in the compromise.
Lessons in Storytelling
If Driftwood taught me anything, it’s that stillness can be cinematic. Audiences don’t need constant movement; they need meaning. Every cut, every pause, every silence can hold emotion if it’s honest.
Final Thoughts
I’m now developing my next short a story about memory and migration. I still film people on buses sometimes. It reminds me why I started.
The Short Film Show has given filmmakers like me a home for stories that might otherwise get lost between algorithms. I hope Driftwood helps someone find stillness too.
