Films are made of and from places: the locations they are filmed in, the settings they are meant to evoke, the geographies where they are imagined and worked on. What place tells its own story about your film, whether a particularly challenging location that required production ingenuity or a map reference that inspired you personally, politically or creatively? 

Given the investigative nature of Seeking Mavis Beacon, I knew I wanted to play with elements of noir and true crime. It’s worth mentioning that I have a contentious relationship with these film genres but, aesthetically speaking, they’re rife with visual motifs that I was eager to unpack. I was especially excited to interpret the concept of an investigative headquarters. 

The HQ became a repository for our imaginations and a visual metaphor for socioeconomic conditions in Silicon Valley. In its glory, it was fluorescent, plastered in pictures of Black women we admire, furnished with upcycled technological devices and secondhand furniture dragged in from thrift stores. It was also falling apart at the seams, often flooded, and perhaps haunted. But, for the two years the video game nonprofit (who shall not be named) agreed to let us use it, it was our safe space. 

My collaborator Olivia McKayla Ross and I met through the collective I cofounded, BUFU: By Us For Us, which focused on building solidarity and safe(r) spaces for QTPOC. Olivia and I had a shared understanding that community spaces are foundational in sheltering grassroots movements, so it seemed natural to seek out partnerships with Bay Area nonprofits who might provide a headquarters for the duration of production. One agreed to let us film in their storage warehouse rent free for two years or “until the building is torn down.” There was no electricity, let alone windows, and the floors were covered in carpet pad that gave the former tenants infections. We learned how to refinish the floors, built LED light panel windows, made a monitor tower out of e-waste, and finessed a friendship with the building’s electrician to get our own electrical outlets. I’m very proud of what we were able to create and attribute our ingenuity to the collective organizing principles that initially brought Olivia and I together. 

The headquarters also feels very true to the experience of being an artist in Oakland, where it’s not uncommon to have an under-the-table agreement with a slumlord for a cheap workspace in a hazardous warehouse (that will ultimately be replaced with luxury condos). Without spoiling too much of the film, it was a fight to maintain the HQ for the two years of production. I chose to include this struggle in the movie because I wanted to role model to young artists like Olivia and myself how to finesse resources to get their own needs met.

I love how the HQ takes on a life of its own that further reflects themes of gentrification and erasure that we’re hoping to unpack with this project.

See all responses to our annual Sundance Question here.