The concept grew from a fictional magazine name I'd used in a previous project and from a boyband of close friends I'd already established on screen. Setting the film in a tanning salon allowed me to create and contained, vibrant environment where vanity, ego, and chaos could collide. Writing within a strict 10-minute limit challenged me to keep the comedy sharp and the narrative focused without losing the exaggerated tone.
As a director, I was deeply involved at every stage of production. In pre-production, I worked closely with the producer, DOP, AD, production design, and casting; sharing visual references, mood boards, character notes, and storyboards to ensure a unified one across departments. I cast actors who could handle the theatricality of the script and invested time in rehearsals, table reads, and character work to build believeable relationships within an intentionally absurd world.
On set, I directed large ensemble scenes in practical salon locations as well as highly stylised sequences in white and black studio spaces, a boyband music video with back-up dancers, and even a room full of burlesque dancers . My focus was on performance, physicality, and tone; guiding actors towards heighted, almost cartoonish movement while maintaining emotional clarity. I worked closely with extras to create a living, comic background and maintained a collaborative, energetic atmosphere across long shoot days.
In post-production, I provided detialed notes, editing references, and sound and colour direction, working with the edit and sound teams to achieve a textured, surreal dinish that matched the film's camp, sexploitation-inspired style.
The outcome is a tightly paced, visually distinctive short that reflects a strong cohesion between writing and directing. Despite the contraints of the university runtime, the project achieved the ambitious tone I set out to create and stands as a piece I'm proud of both creatively and collaboratively.
As writer, I shaped the story into a tight three-minute chamber piece set inside a white box: a self-made prison where Trudy Bunch unravels over the imagined heartbreak of a boyband breakup. I was interested in obsession, parasocial relationships, and how celebrity culture can quietly shape someone's emotional world. The tone leans into camp and grotesque exaggeration, but the feeling underneath was sincere.
Writing and production design were inseparable on this project. As production designer, I built the physical world directly from the scrip: the cube room, the handmade props, the magazine covers, the HEAVEN and HELL signage, and Trudy's distressed costume. Everything in the space reflects her internal state. I experimented with ageing fabrics, constructed papier-mache objects, and treating the room itself like a living magazine spread; loud, cluttered, and suffocating.
Alongside my own film, I also contributed as production designer on two other projects in the module, often stepping in to problem solve when resources or preparation were lacking. This strengthened my ability to improvise visually, manage time under pressure, and maintain a clear aesthetic across different teams.
The outcome is a cohensive short where script, set, and performance feel part of the same world. Pissweak reflects my instinct to build environments that carry narrative weight and my interest in characters who are both grotesque and strangely human.
My influences at the time were films like Sweet Charity, Thelma & Louise, and Under the Skin. I was drawn to the idea of women trying to break free from sleazy environments, mixing that with a 60s space-age aesthetic and a slightly theatrical, heightened performance style. I wanted the world to feel dreamy, strange, and amplified rather than realistic.
Alongside writing, I took on the role of production designer. This was my first time working so practically with set building and materials, and it taught me a lot about how to translate ideas from the pafe into something physical with almost no budget/ I designed Brandy's cluttered, floral, "old lady" bedroom space and built Stella's space chamber from cardboard, foil, wire, and found electronic, turning it into a comedic, lo-fi sci-fi prop that became a key visual in the film.
The project pushed me to think out how costume, set, colour, and sound all contribute to storytelling. Even with limited resources, I worked to make sure the environment reflected the tone of the script: 60s space references, bold colours, soft pink lighting, and exaggerated textures that supported the surreal tone of the stoy. Looking back, Whore From Polaris was a turning point. It was where I first started developing my interest in stylised worlds, exaggerated characters, and hands-on production design, learning how to problem-solve visually and how much the physical space of a film can shape the narrative.
Pledge For Our Planet (commercial)
Scriptwriter in a rapid-turnaround team, adapting the script in real time to meet production constraints and deadlines.
Documentary
Producer for a small-crew documentary exploring analogue media and its relevence in contemporary creative practice.
A grieving man grows a miracle orchard from severed heads to heal his town, but when the enchanted fruit breeds obsession instead of hope, a stranger with pure intentions wanders into the factory where it all began.
I set out to explore a more supernatural idea with a story that unfolds over a single evening, where layered tales deepen the strangeness as we journey with the protagonist. What begins simply reveals a vast iceberg beneath the surface, making this my most ambitious and intricate work to date.
This is the script I’ve spent the longest developing and one I still return to and reshape. I’m proud of its ambitious structure, theatrical dialogue, and the punk-rock clash of genres and tones.
I wanted the story to unfold like a discovery; something the audience learns as they watch, as if stumbling into a place they shouldn’t be and slowly uncovering its history. Alongside the layered narrative, I aimed to push the visual potential of the world as far as possible, creating something cinematic and striking, not driven by dialogue alone.
It’s a project that balances strangeness with wonder, and at times I’ve imagined it working just as well as a dark family fantasy as it does a surreal drama.
Born from prayer-candle wax as the secret child of Mother Mary and a Las Vegas cowboy, a strange young drifter rides the Idaho desert beside two of the West’s fiercest outlaws, fleeing both the lawmen on his trail and the wrath of God closing in behind them.
I’ve always had a deep affection for classic Westerns and set out to write one that felt unlike anything I’d seen on screen. I wanted to blend biblical undertones with offbeat characters, sharp dialogue, and moments of startling violence that still carried real emotional weight.
The idea grew from three close friends whose natural chemistry and chaotic energy reminded me of a trio of modern-day outlaws. I began recording their conversations and mannerisms, and the script evolved organically from those voice notes into a story that feels rooted in real people and real rhythms.
This remains one of the pieces I’m most proud of. It captures a lot of my voice, my humour, and my lived experience within a genre I love.
An aspiring ballerina, her disgraced ex-marine brother, and their quietly cannibalistic mother spiral through rivalries, relapses, and romantic disasters; unaware that the real story isn’t their chaos, but the mother’s desperate, grotesque attempt to hold her family (and her next meal) together.
I began writing Disgraceful Woman as a way to channel moments of anger and intrusive thoughts into fiction, using the script to examine the darker ideas that have no place in my real life. Creating this exaggerated world allowed me to explore unsettling concepts safely on the page.
As the story developed, I drew in elements from other short pieces I'd been working on, introducing the brother and the cannibalistic mother. The ballet thread grew from my own experience of having to give it up, giving the story a personal anchor. The sibling dynamic was equally important to me, shaped by growing up with two brothers and understanding that relationship from the inside.
A mockumentary spin-off from California Sexy trails the hapless Polish boyband Freakbeat Jesus as they bungle, blag, and bicker their way across the UK, chasing pop stardom with more delusion than talent.
After working with close friends on California Sexy and casting them as the members of the boyband, I knew I wanted to revisit those characters. Their natural chemistry and humour made them ideal for something more character-led.
The idea grew from an early mockumentary-style promo concept, imagining the band in a tongue-in-cheek press conference. From there, it felt worth exploring the format further. The documentary style is very different from my usual approach, and offered a chance to experiment with a more grounded, improvised-feeling tone while leaning onto quick, character-driven comedy that could plausibly exist in real life.
When I moved to Bristol, I dug out an old camera I hadn't touched since my dad gave it to me as a child and started wandering the streets with it. I'm lucky to have very photogenic friends who are always up for getting dressed up and stepping in front of the lens. I'm drawn to colourful, vibrant images that capture how living here feels to me; like idling away days on a sun-soaked paradise island.
I've had no formal training and I'm still learning as I go, but photography feeds directly into how I think about film. Sometimes a single photo (taken on a random Tuesday of a friend drinking a pint of Cheddar Valley) turns into the seed of an entire short story.