Maurice Vellas shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Maurice, we’re thrilled to have you with us today. Before we jump into your intro and the heart of the interview, let’s start with a bit of an ice breaker: What is a normal day like for you right now?
Hi! My day job is in the film and television industry where I’m freelance so normal is always changing. Time for creative work always looks a little different. When I have several days off in a row I try to develop some rhythm as to when I’ll work on creative projects. I tend to feel most creative in the morning and evening, but sometimes I just have to fit it in where I can. Aside from the creative stuff I’ve been making the effort to go to Barton Springs when I can and play a lot of pick up basketball, both activities that get me out of my head and into my body.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m an artist. I work in different media, but my most visible work right now is probably my painting. I am also a filmmaker and photographer and merging different realms is always an interest of mine.
My latest work I’ve released is a collection of photographs over the last 10 years or so called “Material Culture”
I was very excited to finish it as it’s my first photography book, and making a book has been a goal and a dream of mine for a long time.
Okay, so here’s a deep one: What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
When I was a very little kid I was playing with some of my friends in a creek that ran right next to our house, a place we always use to go and imagine ourselves in other worlds on wild adventures. After being there for some time it began to rain, and the creek slowly started to fill with water. Usually we’d just climb right up and out on the slanted concrete, but because it was wet this time we just kept slipping and falling back down. We started to get worried about being stuck down there as it was raining. Eventually though, we found that we could boost each other up one at a time, and after much struggle we were all able to help each other out of the creek— even the last of us down there by linking arms and pulling each other up until we were safe and of course, triumphant.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
When I was attending college, film school specifically, it was my dream to make my own film. Since my first year in school, I had been working on an idea that I had a lot of faith in. It started small and went through many, many iterations. It began as a curiosity about a missed connection that really sparked my interest. I had called a taxi to take me home from university my first winter out of state. As there were others in the same situation, there were other taxis waiting, and I mistakenly got in the wrong one. As we started for the airport, I got a call from the original driver asking where I was. This little incident stuck with me for some reason and made me really wonder about this other person. How we were just two people about to cross paths but never did, just kept going, both with lives so full, probably very different from each other’s.
Six months later, I fell in love for the fist time and had my first real heartbreak. I went back to school after summer feeling broken and stripped down. The next year provided a lot. New knowledge, new friends, new ideas. I still had my script I’d been quietly working on, but I’d also become somewhat disillusioned with my program. I wondered if it was really right for me, and I thought very seriously about transferring schools to study something different— and admittedly also with the hope of rekindling the relationship I’d lost. I was accepted into the other program and was very close to making the change, when I had a moment of reflection watching a film with my friends in our shared home. I had to make my film, and I had to make it here. That’s when I resolved to stay. The film became two stories— one of a taxi driver— and one of the passenger he would almost miss. That passenger’s story would be a reflection of my own, what I’d learned through being alone and through heartbreak.
That was one of the best decisions I ever made. The film took two years to finish after that, and there were also moments of great doubt while making it, but it was one of the most enriching and empowering experiences I’ve ever had, and I’m grateful to everyone who helped on my journey, especially that taxi driver.
Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
In the film industry, which accounts for most of the work I do for a living, people come to believe that a good film necessitates huge amounts of money and resources. While it certainly can be true, I believe it’s more about what kinds of stories we’ve come to see as worth telling. We want to emulate the stories we’ve seen before, which often require big crews, experienced actors, and costly equipment, but I believe there is just as much value if not more in a very simple story, well told. I believe there’s great value in the everyday, the cheap, the ubiquitous. A simple conversation or even non-verbal interaction could contain multitudes. What are the kinds of things that happen every day that we take for granted but that are hugely influential on how our lives are shaped? These are the places to look for these other kinds of stories. Just observe and watch how much richness is available in the spaces that are free. Don’t be so attached to an outcome. Be interested in what’s before you and collaborate. I think this is true in a lot of areas, not just films.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. When do you feel most at peace?
I feel most at peace when I’ve done what I’ve felt called to. When I’ve actually gone and bothered to explore those little inklings of ideas of what I would like to create and stuck with them long enough to watch them transform into something living— whether that’s a painting, a photograph, a story, or a film. It feels good to know you’ve listened to that quiet voice inside of you that says something is worth pursuing even when the reason is a mystery. In fact, mystery is kind of the point. Not knowing it fully is what makes it worth it.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.mauricevellas.com
- Instagram: @maurisako
- Other: https://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/2970971
For a link to my new photography book, Material Culture
Image Credits
Portrait by Sabine Fletcher
