You Don't Own Me

A documentary filmmaker attempts to imagine, along with his father, his grandmother's experience at a labor camp during the holocaust.

In the fictional city of Santa Teresa, located on the border between Mexico and USA, the researcher Juan de Dios Martínez straddles the line between journalism and detective work. Based on an unfinished book by Roberto Bolaño, his character investigates a handful of crimes and abuses perpetrated on women and workers of the zone.

Borrowing its title from a literary genre, the film acknowledges the indeterminacy of both fiction and the self. Noir elements are reduced to deadpan gestures under bright California sunlight. Field recordings made in New Zealand are heard as women speak with each other about motherhood, abortion, breakups and anxiety. A civil rights parade moves slowly down a street. Bodies appear in states of weariness, injured or at rest, while songs by Irma Thomas and Goldberg evoke the passing of time and an uncertain future.

A retrieved picture of a window elicits memories and the impulse to recreate a lost site. By this same window, an eight year old child feels the cold air on his face and imagines the future.

A Venezuelan city is emptying. A labor less priest struggles with a sonic sleep disorder while trying to safe-keep his meek buffalo from being taken. As the intentions of the remaining ones become more desperate, the priest’s malaise becomes more alive.

Santiago, a young filmmaker, wanders around Caracas lost in a romantic reverie, longing for his girlfriend Carmela, who has left Venezuela. In this autobiographical portrait, Santiago Martín constructs a charming hybrid narrative between film shoots, friends and memories, an atmosphere of words and spaces evoking moments lived.

An imaginary look back at the present and distant past from the point of view of the year 2049. The return of an exile to Los Angeles decades after social and environmental collapse. He recreates the memories of his past (our present), and imagines the lives of those who inhabited his old apartment when he was gone. His sense of displacement elicits a meditation on place, memory and dream.

Chronicles the transformation of the ʻEwa District on Oʻahu, Hawaiʻi, and the waterways of Puʻuloa, now known as Pearl Harbor - from a vibrant estuary to a polluted industrial zone.

sun light, sun set, sun rise, sun ray. a hand processed in camera roll shot on Kodak 3383 color print stock.