Full Circle
As I prepare to wrap up the final interviews for my Amarillo Public Art Documentary, I find myself in an emotional whirlwind. There’s a deep sense of excitement about completing this project, but also a lingering disbelief at how I landed such an incredible opportunity. Looking back, I realize it wasn’t my volume of work over the past two years that opened this door—it was one specific project where I slowed down, poured myself into every detail, and followed through with determination.
That project was my short film, Don’t Bet the Horse You Rode in On.
Last Christmas, I took a leap and made a one-man film. It was an entirely self-driven effort—writing, researching, shooting, and editing the story over the holiday break. What started as a personal challenge became something I was incredibly proud of. I entered the festival circuit, diving into unfamiliar territory, and was thrilled when the very first festival I submitted to made it an official selection. That moment of validation was electric.
I shared my success with every media outlet in Amarillo, which led to a whirlwind of attention—social media shares, a television interview, and even a front-page newspaper article. That publicity became a turning point, leading to new opportunities, including a phone call from PBS. They wanted me to take over a stalled public art documentary. After a few meetings, I agreed to the challenge: a 90-minute film—far beyond anything I’d done before.
When I started this journey, I wasn’t sure I was qualified. But I had enthusiasm, a short film that demonstrated my abilities, and an attitude that embraced uncertainty. Over the past six months, this project has been far more demanding than I ever imagined. It’s tested me in ways I couldn’t anticipate. But with every challenge, I’ve adapted, improved, and learned.
This documentary has evolved into something deeply personal. It’s my first feature-length film, and while there have been moments of doubt—wondering if it’s as good as I think it is or if it will resonate with audiences—I’ve pushed forward. I’ve bolstered weak sections, refined the story, and stayed focused on delivering something I’m proud of.
This process has transformed me. I now consider myself a filmmaker, not just a videographer. I’ve developed the skills to tell long-form stories, and I know this documentary will be a powerful resume piece. The partnership with PBS alone is a huge accomplishment, opening doors to potential grants and future projects.
Still, I’m a realist. There’s no guarantee this will lead to another gig. But I’ve gained something invaluable: the ability to tell meaningful stories, regardless of external opportunities. This Christmas, I’m planning to return to where it all started—my shop. I’m itching to make a short film about my project trucks, including my grandma’s 1989 Suburban with its wild, decades-long story, and my 1977 K5 Blazer.
These projects feel like a full-circle moment, bringing me back to the roots of my passion for videography. With sharpened skills and a renewed sense of purpose, I’m ready to dive into them during my two-week break. Who knows where this creative journey will lead next?
One thing’s for sure: I love big projects. I love the process of creating. And I can’t wait to see what comes next.
