...wandering in a white cube
Born in Paris to a French-German family, I grew up in Brazil and Ecuador before returning to live in Europe. This transnational upbringing shaped my understanding of belonging - I never felt rooted in one place, but rather in the spaces between places. This state of "in-betweenness" isn't a geographical middle ground on the Atlantic or along the French-German border; it's a perpetual state of motion, a feeling that shifts and evolves.
After studying cinema in Nice, France, I chose Berlin as my next destination - not merely as a place to live, but as a space to grow and form attachments. Yet Berlin itself embodies perpetual transformation. In its constant flux, I observed a peculiar zeitgeist among my generation: a simultaneous fear of fully inhabiting the world and a desire to disconnect from both time and space.
This tension materialized during my search for housing in Berlin. Throughout the city, I encountered countless white cube rooms - blank canvases waiting to be temporarily filled with identity and meaning. These naked spaces became a powerful metaphor for my own experience: I found myself mentally furnishing and unfurnishing each room, projecting and withdrawing different versions of home. Gradually, I realized that my identity wasn't in the objects I could place in these rooms, but in the very act of moving between them - in the perpetual process of emptying and filling, of transformation itself.
This understanding profoundly influenced my approach to cinema. Film, like identity, exists in the interstices: in the movement between still frames, in the dialogue between image and sound, in the space between what is shown and what is perceived. Cinema isn't confined to filming locations or projection rooms; it's a confluence of movements, a meeting point of multiple journeys.
As a filmmaker, I create spaces for exchange where the cinematic experience transcends the boundaries of the screen. Whether working in fiction or documentary, I seek to craft experiences that catalyze feeling, dialogue and reflection beyond the projection room. For me, cinematic language achieves its full potential when what is seen and heard exceeds what is shown - when the spaces between gain their own identity, and when we embrace the constant motion of meaning-making itself.
