Today we’d like to introduce you to Alexandria Bond.
Hi Alexandria, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
I started acting when I was 13 and, to put it simply, I became completely obsessed with storytelling. Then at 17, I received a talent scholarship to attend the New York Film Academy and moved to LA with absolutely no idea what I was doing… which honestly feels very on brand for me.
Acting was my first love, but being around film opened up this whole other world that I couldn’t stop being curious about. I wanted to know what everyone was doing. Why is that light there? What is the AD stressed about? Who made this schedule? How did this idea on a piece of paper somehow turn into 100 people standing on a set at 5am?
So I started saying yes to pretty much everything. I PA’d. I worked in different departments. I started producing and directing my own projects. I edited. I made content. I managed projects. I supported executives. If there was something I didn’t know how to do, I was probably annoying someone with 400 questions until I figured it out.
For a long time, I actually thought my career looked a little all over the place. I felt like I had all these random puzzle pieces that didn’t totally make sense together. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized the common thread is actually pretty simple. I love ideas and I really love figuring out how the hell we’re going to make them happen.
I’m a creative person, but I’m also weirdly obsessed with logistics. Give me a big idea, a complicated project, 700 moving pieces and a slightly concerning deadline and I’m probably having a great time.
My career definitely hasn’t been a straight line, but I don’t think I’d change that. I’ve learned storytelling from being in front of the camera, leadership from managing teams, patience and communication from supporting executives and, honestly, probably more about people from working in hospitality than I could ever fit on a resume.
So where I am today feels like a big combination of all of it. I think of myself as a creative producer, filmmaker and professional “figure it outer”. I love storytelling. I love people. I love making cool things. And I’m finally at a point where all those random puzzle pieces are starting to look like a pretty fun picture.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Let’s be so real. No. It has absolutely not been a smooth road. But is anything?
I think we sometimes look at other people’s careers and convince ourselves they were handed some magical map that we somehow missed. Someone always seems to have the upper hand. More money, better connections, the right last name, the right opportunity at exactly the right time. But behind closed doors, we’re all just people living on this temporary little timeline, trying to be someone and do something we’re proud of. That’s kind of beautiful and terrifying, right?
I’ve failed. I’ve been told I wasn’t good enough. I’ve lost opportunities I really wanted. I’ve worked jobs I never thought I’d be working while questioning if I completely screwed up somewhere along the way. I’ve watched people my age, and sometimes younger, do things I desperately want to do and had to fight the very human urge to ask, “Okay… so what am I doing wrong?”
But I also think failure is where I’ve grown the most. Being told I’m not doing enough has, at times, absolutely fueled my ambition. Maybe out of spite… kidding. Kind of.
One of my biggest struggles, even today, is feeling like my work isn’t at the standard I want it to be. I have this version of the filmmaker and creative I want to become living very loudly in my head, and sometimes I get frustrated that I’m not her yet.
Then I have to remind myself… girl, you’re 27.
I’ve barely been in this world. How am I supposed to be a master at something I’m still just beginning to fully understand?
I think I’m learning to give myself permission to be a student. To make something and realize later that I could’ve done it better. To fail. To change directions. To take a weird job. To ask stupid questions. To watch other people succeed without deciding their success means I’ve failed.
The road hasn’t been smooth at all. It’s been weird and humbling and exciting and, at times, incredibly frustrating. But every version of me that thought she was failing was actually learning something the version of me today desperately needed.
So no, definitely not smooth. But I think I’d be a pretty boring filmmaker and an even more boring person if it had been.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I struggle a little with the idea that what sets us apart has to be some magical thing that no one else could possibly possess. It almost feels like telling artists that their work has to be completely unique to matter.
And I just don’t really believe that anymore.
The work I’ve been a part of isn’t “mine.” It’s ours. It’s the hours shared alongside insanely talented and hopeful creatives. It’s the PA who took off from their “real job” to get another day of set experience. It’s the actor sitting in holding trying not to be nervous. It’s the crew member working for less than they probably deserve because they believe in the story. It’s someone carrying a C-stand, someone rewriting a scene, someone ordering lunch for 40 people and someone quietly fixing a problem that 90% of the set will never even know happened.
That’s filmmaking to me.
I could tell you that I’m a filmmaker, director, producer, creative and professional “figure it outer.” I could list projects I’ve worked on, brands I’ve created for and all the weird hats I’ve worn over the years. And I’m incredibly proud of those things. But I don’t think any of those titles are what make me particularly cool.
As I’ve gotten older, my perspective on individual expression has changed a lot. Of course we’re all individuals, but so much of who we become is a product of the people we’ve loved, the places we’ve been and the things that have completely knocked the wind out of us.
As an artist, I want to bring those experiences and those voices front and center.
I want to take the masks off a little.
Because somewhere along the way, society convinced us that we’re supposed to be cool and polished and unaffected. Like you’re not interesting enough if you’re just a giant weirdo who loves to dress up, play make believe and feel everything a little too deeply.
Which, for the record, is literally filmmaking.
I think our most personal experiences are often our most shared. Maybe the exact circumstances are different, but hurt is hurt. Grief is grief. Loneliness is loneliness. We’ve all had something happen that suddenly changed the narrative we had written for our lives.
That’s the kind of work I want to make.
I want to turn those narratives into stories that find the right few people. The person who feels alone. Misunderstood. Angry. Or just completely done with the world. I want my work to be a tiny voice that says, “Hey. I see you. Someone else has felt this too.”
My work doesn’t need to be seen by millions of people. If one person walks away feeling a little lighter, a little less weird or a little less alone, I think that’s pretty damn cool.
And when it comes to what I’m most proud of, it’s honestly the person I am while making the work.
I want to be a collaborator who knows people’s names. Who celebrates someone when they’re absolutely killing it. Who notices the person quietly working their ass off in the corner. Who asks questions and gives credit and understands that no project I’ve ever worked on would exist because of me alone.
I’ve worked on some incredible things and I could absolutely give you the highlight reel. But at the end of the day, the titles and projects aren’t the work I’m most proud of.
The way I show up for the people creating beside me is.
Where do you see things going in the next 5-10 years?
Honestly? I have no idea. I have a billion and one goals and I hope there’s massive growth, but more than anything, I want to see the industry invest in artists better.
I want indie filmmakers to actually benefit when their work succeeds. When a small team creates something incredible and that film gets bought, distributed and turned into a massive success, the people who originated that work and spent years getting it made should be compensated like they mattered to its success. Because they did.
This industry has a very long history of gatekeeping, greed and putting power in the hands of people who understand numbers better than they understand a film set.
So my challenge for the next 5 to 10 years? Lean into indie filmmaking. Give creatives access to the big screens. Invest in weird ideas and new voices. And maybe let the people who have actually picked up a C-stand see a little more of that ROI instead of some random executive who’s never stepped foot on set.
Is that too much to ask? Probably. But I have a billion and one goals, remember?
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm9073886/?ref_=ext_shr_lnk
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexandria.bond
