I’ve been a filmmaker for nearly a decade, a journey filled with highs, lows, and everything in between. Along the way, I’ve experienced the thrill of true collaboration and the sting of exploitation. A recent incident brought these dynamics back into sharp focus, reminding me how my perspective on them has evolved over time. If you’ve worked in a creative field like filmmaking, you’ve likely brushed up against both: the rare magic of a creative partnership and the all too common reality of someone leveraging your skills for their gain.

The Beauty of Collaboration

Collaboration is a creative’s dream. Finding someone whose ideas spark yours, who complements your weaknesses with their strengths, is pure gold. You bounce concepts back and forth, building something neither of you could’ve crafted alone. I’ve been fortunate to experience this firsthand. Over the years, I’ve crossed paths with incredible talents, none more so than my life partner, Leya. She’s a gifted sculptor, photographer, cinematographer, editor, and colorist. Her encouragement pulled me into filmmaking, and together, we’ve built a creative synergy that’s both personal and professional. Through her, I met our current business partners, with whom we work. These are people I trust, admire, and create with regularly. That’s collaboration at its best, mutual respect fueling something extraordinary.

The Shadow of Exploitation

But not everyone’s after collaboration. Some just want to exploit your eagerness, your hunger to prove yourself, gain experience, or add to your portfolio. They’ll take your work, your time, your energy and give nothing in return, not even a thank you or a referral. I’ve been there. In high school, my knack for computers made me the go-to fixer for everything. Ten bucks felt like a fortune back then, but after setting up thousands of devices, computers, phones, networks, and printers for friends and even companies, I realized I’d been undervalued. My skills were a resource to be tapped, not respected.

Exploitation can masquerade as collaboration, too. Years ago, salsa dancing became my passion. Early on, I was offered “training” that morphed into a so-called partnership, except I wasn’t earning money or any real opportunities. I was a fallback, a driver, a convenience in the shadows. Sure, I got bread crumbs, leftover gigs, or faint praise, but they convinced me that it was enough. It wasn’t. It was exploitation dressed up as teamwork.

Another time, we got taken advantage of working for a client job that repeated every year. It entailed going to an event or two for a week, shooting as much footage as we could, and then editing it at home for 10 days. They compensated us by giving us accommodations and supposed “recognition,” also allowing us to attend the event, like we weren’t working the whole time anyway. It sounded fine until life caught up: higher rent, more expenses, the usual. The moment we mentioned that we couldn’t do it for free anymore because we had these higher costs, we actually didn’t even hear back from them. Ever! No discussion, no compromise, just silence. That’s when you see the mask slip; our value to them was tied to how little they had to give.

A Recent Wake-Up Call

This tension hit me again recently. For years, I directed and produced music videos for a band, starting as a favor to a close friend who managed them. They loved our first video together, so we kept going. Like most emerging artists, they had no label and little cash. We loved their music and enjoyed the creative freedom, so we struck a deal: minimal pay, artistic control, and cross promotion, with a handshake promise of exclusivity if they made it big. “When we succeed, you’ll come with us,” they said. Spoiler: That was an exploitation alert I should’ve picked up on.

We made six or seven videos together, each deal was slightly worse for us than the last. Then, a few weeks ago, I stumbled across a social media post; they were shooting a new video and finally gaining recognition. No heads up, no call, nothing. After a brief flare of anger and a sarcastic comment, “So much for communication and collaboration”, I let it go. My partner and I had been used, but I’d seen it coming. Experience has sharpened my radar for this stuff. It’s a chapter closed, a lesson learned: exploitation can strike anytime, even when you think you’re wise to it. Basically the more skills you have, the easier it is to get exploited by others because the only skill they need is to know how to exploit you, since you know how to do everything else.

The Early Days: Enthusiasm Meets Opportunists

As a newbie filmmaker, I was eager to shoot anything. I lugged my trusty camera everywhere, capturing whatever I could. I’d earned that camera through a side job, and at first, I didn’t mind giving away free videos. I was learning, gaining recognition, and building a foundation. But opportunists noticed. Years later, one of those early “clients” reached out, asking me to shoot an event. I said sure, asked about their needs, and sent a professional quote from our production company. Their response? An indignant huff about the cost. I explained the hours, the gear, the editing, and the work, and noted we really didn’t need the exposure. Unless it paid, why would I commit to it? They hesitated, and I suggested a beginner might do it cheaper, but I never heard back from them. No freebies, no deal. Classic exploitation dodged.

Why It Happens

Creative fields are ripe for exploitation because we love what we do. Challenges ignite us, and creativity feels like second nature. But passion doesn’t pay bills. If we’re always doing favors, who’s funding our lives? No one. I’ve learned this the hard way. My IT skills? Self-taught because no one could fix my computer. Salsa dancing? Honed through relentless practice. Photography and filmmaking? I mastered it solo because I had to. Resourcefulness got me here; thankfully, knowledge is more accessible now than ever, but it also made me a target.

The Flip Side: Collaboration Done Right

Yet it’s not all doom and gloom. Collaboration can be transformative. Leya’s belief in me reignited my filmmaking spark, and now we create together constantly, personally and professionally; it’s a gift. Another gem came early on: we shot a dance video (probably for free) and met someone who introduced us to their filmmaking partner. We teamed up on a concept project: no pay, just passion. That short film nearly became a streaming series, and the experience was electric, ideas flowing, trust growing. Better yet, it birthed lasting relationships. Today, we’re a tight-knit crew, tackling commercial gigs and narrative projects like Pure Vortex, a no-budget feature we’re producing this summer, and The Procedure, a sci-fi script I wrote that’s inching toward a proof of concept teaser short. These collaborations thrive on mutual respect, open dialogue, and shared vision. The energy is almost magical.

Spotting the Difference

So how do you tell collaboration from exploitation? There’s no foolproof test, it’s often a leap of faith. Gut instinct helps, honed by scars and successes. I’ve been burned enough to stay cautious, tempering excitement until I see reciprocity. Promises like “Do this and I’ll connect you with such and such…” or “This project will lead to the next big one…” don’t sway me anymore. But when your gut says yes, you leap because creativity itself is a gamble. Filmmaking demands faith in a script, a team, a shoot, and an edit. It only works when the right people align, trusting each other to make it happen.

The Payoff

True collaboration feels effortless. I’ve found partners in the unlikeliest places: on set, in dance studios, through chance connections. When it’s real, there’s a rhythm to it, a shared pride in the work. You almost dread wrapping a project because it’s been so damn fun. That’s the goal, whether you’re directing, acting, writing, or playing the guitar. Creativity should be a joy, and with the right people, it always is!

What’s Next In Collaboration?

So, where does this all lead? These days, our collaborative team is thriving, a testament to what happens when the right people come together. We’re tackling more and more commercial videos, which is great; finally, some money involved. Recently, we wrapped a project for an electric company, piecing together a nice narrative story alongside all the corporate stuff. I think that’s what sets us apart, blending creativity with the practical to make something that stands out, even in a “suit and tie” gig.

Then, the music scene, we started working with a known musician, already producing one music video and now tackling another. Creative freedom and getting paid to make music videos; finally, a win after those early exploitation traps.

On the narrative front, we’re rallying a bigger crew to shoot a comedy feature this summer called Pure Vortex, which I wrote. Nick, a frustrated factory worker, fakes a band with friends to get an artist visa and chase a better life abroad installing air conditioners- what could go wrong? We couldn’t find a budget, but that’s not stopping us. We’ve spread the pre-production load across the team, and it’s looking promising; even Leya’s sister Iza is back to help out. We’ve locked in most of the talent, and one collaborator might have even scored some sponsors to cover transport and food costs. Thankfully, we’ve got the gear covered, and it looks like we’ll have the locations, too. It’s a hustle, but hopefully, we’ll have a good movie in the end.

Then there’s The Procedure: A Choice Beyond Life, a sci-fi feature born from pure collaboration. In a dystopian future where the rich pay to transfer their illnesses onto the poor using advanced tech, a desperate father’s procedure gone wrong sparks a scandal and a fight to expose the truth of corporate greed. A few years back, Gregor, our producer, shared some ideas for a sci-fi story. I loved it, but he doubted he’d ever have the time or will to write it, so I offered to take it on. Two years later, I had developed the story, hammered out a first draft, revised it multiple times, built a pitch deck, and crafted pitching material, including a pitch reel. Recently, I’ve teamed up with Ingrid Wren, an awesome Stage 32 member from Tasmania. We’ve built a great working relationship, and she’s graciously offered to help me with the final version of the screenplay.

We’ve decided that a proof-of-concept teaser could spark interest. I’ve written a short script for it, and now we’re exploring how to produce it, hoping to catch a producer’s eye and bring this sci-fi film to life.

This is what collaboration looks like now: diverse projects, shared loads, and a mix of passion and practicality. It’s not always easy, but with the right people, it’s always worth it.

Where Is All This Going?

So, who am I in all this? A filmmaker who’s been at it for a decade, cutting my teeth on short films, music videos, documentaries, and commercials, some with budgets, some just work, good vibes, and good people. Way back, when I was that kid hijacking my dad’s video camera to shoot goofy movies with friends. Salsa dancing later flipped my world, pulling me back to creativity, and meeting Leya, my partner in life, sealed the deal. We’ve been learning and making films together ever since. Now, after a bunch more projects, I’ve finally figured out what really lights me up.

I love music videos when I’ve got the freedom to weave a narrative, not just slap visuals on a beat. Commercial videos? They’re a blast if I can craft a story into them that’s more than the usual corporate stuff. And films, I live for them. I’ve gotten used to writing screenplays, though I’ll never call myself a writer because I’m a filmmaker and director who sometimes writes because no one else was around to tell my stories. I love directing, shooting, editing, and watching it all come together into something new. It’s magic every time.

Lately, though, shorts just aren’t cutting it anymore. The last couple of years, I’ve felt this itch, features are calling me, and I need to jump in sooner rather than later. So I’ve been writing more screenplays, digging into the messy stuff like pitch decks, market analysis, marketing, and all the pieces to make a feature work. That’s what Pure Vortex and The Procedure are. The missing link in the collaboration chain? Producers who get it, who will collaborate with us to bring fresh, unique ideas to the big and small screens. That’s my hope: to dive deeper into narrative filmmaking, build with the right team, and tell stories that connect with people differently. When the right people come together, filmmaking magic happens, and if we can find the right people to join us and pull it all off like we dream, I’ll be happy forever.

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