I admire the confidence of those who can write about themselves without hesitation. As Dr. Lecter put it, I myself cannot.
The burden of living as a film editor is perceiving the frame before and the frame after at the same time. From that vantage, intention becomes unavoidable. It follows me everywhere, shaping my perspective in an inescapable tension. It is a load I carry, yet I accept it because the love of — and for — the craft makes it bearable.
That said:
Coffee. Toilets. Cables. Lights. Pixels. Dark bags. Hard drives.
I’ve served, scrubbed, hauled, patched, loaded, moved, and cloned.
But the timeline?
That’s my escape hatch. That’s where I disappear. When I’m cutting, all else ceases to exist. I approach the work as a frayed detective reconstructing a crime scene. Every frame is forensic. Every cut is a suspect until proven necessary to the narrative.
I’m attracted to stories with a pulse. Stories that bleed, that bruise, that linger with a scar.
That will do for now.
Thank you for your time.