My mom did a television program somewhere around 2005. It was a show where children had to find a new boyfriend for their mom. A silly concept. But their, for the first time, I saw a director working his magic behind the scenes. Directing us, our reality, into something sensational.
I was so obsessed with the process that I became an annoying presence for the crew, always trying to look into the camera, screaming attention. It was spellbinding to see how reality television was made, how non-fiction became fiction. The power of the camera, and the illusion of tension you can create with just the right words and placement of the camera.
That was my first awareness.
My second came not long after, also connected to my mom, this time through her new incredible kind boyfriend. He was a Persian political rufugee, studying law, and he brought home these burned DVDs filled with the most amazing films.
I was eleven at the time when I first watched The Pianist, The Lord of the Rings, Sin City and The Matrix. I can still remember the exact time of day and the place where I saw each of them. They changed me.
For the first time, I became aware of the author, the invisible hand behind the image. I could feel the director’s presence in every choice. And then there was the escapism, these worlds that completely absorbed me. I dreamed about them at night, obsessed over them in the day.
Those two moments, one in front of the camera and one behind it, became a turning point.
That’s when the dream(ing) began.
