In collaboration with the American Film Institute, I embarked on a journey to create my debut stop-motion short film—a project that would redefine the limits of my creativity and endurance. For four relentless months, I worked in Berlin, in an artistically residency, pouring +12 hours a day into what became an all-consuming labor of love and obsession.

The process was as raw and visceral as the film itself. I delved into unconventional materials, conducting experiments on filming in my own body, using earth, leaves, bones, different types of river claim, and paint to capture textures that felt alive. Every frame became a battlefield, each element crafted with painstaking precision, as if the act of creation demanded a piece of me in return. By the time the project was finished, I had lost 12 kilos and gained a profound understanding of sacrifice in art.

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The result was more than just a short film — the final piece emerged as a hypnotic, tactile experience that blurs the line between the organic and the surreal. Every frame feels alive, imbued with the raw energy of the process itself: the layers of paint, the imperfections of earth, and the marks of my own experimentation. It invites viewers into a hauntingly beautiful landscape where human fragility meets the grotesque precision of stop-motion animation. The film doesn’t just tell a story; it forces you to feel it, to let it crawl under your skin and linger there.

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The journey didn’t end with the completion of the film—it began anew on the international stage. Premiering at San Sebastián, it resonated with audiences and critics alike, praised for its unsettling beauty and its bold, uncompromising vision. From there, it traveled to some of the world’s most prestigious festivals, including Cannes, captivating viewers with its visceral intensity. For me, it’s more than just a film—it’s a testament to the power of obsession, the fragility of creation, and the extraordinary lengths we go to breathe life into our stories.