As my third-year film, Skin of the Father was the first project for which I was entirely responsible for the production design, from the tiniest detail to the overall vision. It was a fun story working with a team that I had come to love. There were a few kinks to work out, including a break-away table, and figuring out how to show a man skinning his own arm with a wood planer, but I was ready for the challenge. Having been separated for nearly a year, I was enjoying setting new goals and pushing the limits of my ability.

This film required everything I had, both physically and mentally. I still didn’t have all the help I needed with my films, even though, at that point, most of the people in the department who disliked me had moved on. With such a large project and insufficient help, even daily tasks became a struggle. Inigo helped around the house by retrieving things and learning how to pick up laundry. I taught him how to close my door, too. My back pain reached a point where I shaved my head simply to save the energy it took to wash my hair. But damnit, I was determined to bring this project to life.

The work was exhausting, but my team—comprised of incredibly supportive peers—rallied to help me. We transformed ordinary sets into spaces that conveyed the story’s unsettling themes. I sourced the breakaway table for a critical scene and we figured out the mechanics behind the skinning effect with the planer, all without the luxury of extensive SFX resources. Every decision tested ingenuity, and every setback pushed me to find creative solutions.

When we wrapped, I was both physically drained and incredibly proud. Skin of the Father proved that I could lead a team through complex projects, even in the face of personal adversity. However I pushed myself right into a symptom flare, which took several weeks to bounce back from. It was a testament to my resilience and my ability to adapt to challenges and find success, sometimes to my own detriment (A lesson I would learn again in a few years).