DAYDREAMS IN LA

I made this film during my time in Los Angeles, at a point when I felt especially absorbed by images — films, music, paintings, fragments of the city, and the strange way they began to blur together in memory.

The film follows that feeling rather than a narrative. Its distorted, discontinuous structure reflects the accumulation of what I was seeing and experiencing at the time: cinema, art, media, and Los Angeles itself folding into one another. There is something dreamlike in that process, and inevitably something of David Lynch and Mulholland Drive, a film that has shaped the way I think about Los Angeles as both a real place and an imagined one.

The piece moves through these fragments almost as recollection does — without hierarchy, chronology, or explanation. Toward the end, paintings by Rothko appear. His work has always held a particular weight for me, and here the paintings feel like a quiet counterpoint to everything that comes before them: a moment of stillness and reflection within a film built from saturation, distortion, and memory.

More than a document of Los Angeles, I think of the film as a record of what my mind looked like while I was there.