The fable as a genre is in some ways quite relevant to my work, centering around both human and animal protagonists. The bull in my film TOURNEUR, the horse in CENTAUR and the pigeons in SSRC play leading roles, and of course one could interpret them as symbols or signifiers for the larger questions that my films touch upon – the embodiment of an “untamed” nature and the critical reflection of humankind‘s attempts to cultivate and thus control it, to name one. However, for me there are some decisive distinctions between the literary genre of the fable and what I am trying to achieve within my works’ narratives: Firstly, while the fable tends to use its animal protagonists in an anthropomorphized way, as an illustrative means leading to a moral conclusion, I do not aim to present the animals as a metaphor for something else. Instead, they appear as social actors in their own right. They do act as a mirror to critically reflect on human nature or behaviour, yet they occupy their own space in my work. The second distinction lies in the question of the moral imperative itself, which is often central to the fable’s conclusion. For me, however, it feels important to leave space for the viewers to evaluate what they see. While one can definitely read a sense of judgment into my observations of cultural practices such as dressage or bullfighting, my films always also reflect on the possibility of an overarching empathy between the species, an idea that is particularly present in the intimate relationship between horse and human in CENTAUR, or in the potentially unexpected co-dependency between birds and men in SSRC. Lastly, the fable is a genre of fiction. While my work has a documentary focus, I am continuously exploring how space is cinematically constructed. It’s an important aspect during the process of editing the material to think about the element of fiction, as I navigate the interface between reality and staging – the unique and authentic dynamics I observe from behind the camera may be perceived as strange choreographies on screen; the real settings, such as the bullfighting arena filled with foam, may appear as a stage. One of my aims as an artist is to begin to dissolve such dichotomies, ultimately calling into question the clear borders between nature and culture.

I reflect on this question a lot – in my case, as a filmmaker, it is mainly concerning the environmental impact of travelling for shoots. TOURNEUR and VIDOURLE were filmed in France, CENTAUR in Denmark, and SSRC in Los Angeles. Currently, I work on a new project, for which I recently travelled to Spain. For the way I work as an artist, it seems unavoidable to travel, and I have profited immensely from the experience I was able to make abroad, amongst others during my studies at Cal Arts in LA. I am very conscious of that and it’s a conflict I cannot really solve. I have started to work a lot with people on site though, for example having a local line producer has proven very helpful in terms of preparing the shoots in advance without having to be on site. And of course, doing research online and meeting people on Zoom has become normalized through the experience of the pandemic – I think there is a lesson we can take from this period.

I’m not really imagining wellbeing activities as such. You’ve mentioned the collapse of the planet and environmental concerns – I think the only way towards future wellbeing is to find ways of co-existence and to give up our anthropocentric worldview, which arguably is at the core of most of our planetary problems. My focus on the “animal other” leads many to think I make films about animals – but actually, more than anything, I am observing, exposing and reflecting on human behaviours and practices. As I mentioned before, I avoid taking on a moralistic tone in my works, but I do think we need to question the “human” category itself, which was invented within the ontology of the moderns to dominate and exploit all and everything deemed “natural”, including (but not limited to) animals.