Official Selection: Palma Film Festival and An Accidental Revelation (Copy)
An accidental portrait of an artist as young man:
A 2005 elevator video from the Eiffel Tower in Paris captures more than a moment—it freezes youthful ambition amid confinement and a vast skyline. The sepia tones lend a nostalgic, cinematic feel, highlighting the tension between limits and possibilities. This unplanned glimpse reminds us that true portraits often emerge spontaneously, quietly preserved by time.
Official Selection: Palma Film Festival!
Wow, we're an official selection at the Palma Film Festival! I'm so excited and honored. I can't believe this happened. I've submitted to so many festivals in Spain, and this is my first one that actually accepted me. It's like the universe was telling me, "Just wait on Spain until you can have your premiere in your hometown."
The Exquisite Timing of Creative Vindication
In the cramped confines of a Parisian elevator circa 2005, I adjusted my camera settings while my then-boyfriend performed his one-man show titled "Impatience as Performance Art." His persistent refrain—"Hurry UP, what are you DOING? Why are you taking so LONG?"—provided an ironic soundtrack to what would eventually become the opening sequence of Golden Wings.
Little did either of us know that this mundane vertical journey would ascend into something far more significant: footage now screening at international festivals while he languishes as a barely employable shop boy in Madrid, occasionally texting to borrow money for parking tickets he can't afford to pay. The universe, it seems, has a particularly delicious sense of comedic timing.
There's something almost mythological about watching someone who couldn't spare thirty seconds for your creative vision now trapped in the amber of retail mediocrity, perpetually short on both patience and parking meter coins. Meanwhile, the very work he dismissed travels freely across borders, speaking to audiences in languages neither of us knew at the time.
As Golden Wings makes its debut at the Palma Film Festival without me (my tibia and its new titanium companion send their regrets), I find myself contemplating the strange alchemy that transforms rushed moments into lasting art. How the very act of refusing to hurry—of insisting on your vision despite the chorus of sighs and eye-rolls from those who lack imagination—becomes its own form of resistance.
Perhaps there's no greater creative validation than outlasting your critics. Or, in this particular case, outlasting a relationship while your ex outlasts parking meters.
The lesson, if there is one? Trust the glacial pace of your process. The ones tapping their watches rarely make history, but they do occasionally make excellent cautionary characters in your director's commentary. And sometimes, if you're particularly fortunate, they even help fund your next parking adventure—one borrowed euro at a time.
The Palma Film Festival logo
An elegant palm tree with swirling fronds, symbolizing gentle wind. It stands behind a minimalist sea wall, both in silver-gray tones against a subtle gray-silver gradient background, conveying timeless elegance and coastal charm.
A triumphant symphony of the French National Anthem, La Marseillaise, sweeps in as a whoosh transitions us to bold typography: Paris. 2005. Spring.
Captured on a grainy, damaged home movie camera, we find ourselves inside the Eiffel Tower’s elevator, steadily ascending from the iconic cashbox below. A flicker of darkness briefly cloaks the view, revealing, for a fleeting moment, the Eiffel Tower sparkling against the night sky. Amid the glass reflections inside the elevator, the faint silhouette of a young man holding the camera appears—almost ghostly, caught in time.
As the scene brightens, the music shifts gracefully to Clair de Lune, unfolding a breathtaking panorama of Paris’s West Bank. Voices of fellow elevator riders fill the air with awe and wonder at the stunning vista.
The ascent continues, rising ever higher until, at the summit, a blinding white flash blankets the screen. Edith Piaf’s haunting final notes of La Marseillaise echo, closing this intimate and poetic journey through the heart of Paris at springtime.
Learn more about the project at Golden Wings official site.
When Your Opening Shot Reveals More Than You Expected
Golden Wings started as a nine‑minute student project filmed on a Samsung S20. It grew into something wider, deeper, and far more personal. The footage I shot in that elevator predates the project by fifteen years.
That moment, in retrospect, was cinematic déjà vu. The shot I insisted on keeping—despite my then-boyfriend’s sighs—
"Hurry up, what are you doing? Look at him. Are you listening to me? Why are you taking so long?”
That shot became the first frame of a film that would tour global festivals and win multiple awards.
For a personal look behind the scenes, visit my blog: [indiedocjourney.wordpress.com][1].
Under the velvet cloak of night, the Seine River glistens as elegant barges glide serenely downstream. Their soft lights dance upon the water’s ripples, creating a rhythmic glow. Behind this liquid ballet, the Eiffel Tower sparkles brilliantly, adorned in a dazzling display of lights reminiscent of a festive Christmas tree. The Parisian skyline hums with romance and timeless magic, inviting you to lose yourself in this luminous nocturnal dream.
Time Capsules and the Strange Honesty of Old Tech
The grainy aesthetic of early 2000s DV tapes—blooming whites, crushed blacks, and lens flare artifacts—has come full circle. What once looked dated now feels soulful, akin to the resurgence of VHS aesthetics in modern film.
That reflection in the glass reveals a younger version of me: earnest, focused, unaware of the future audience his footage would one day face. The camcorder itself, a now-obsolete Sony MiniDV, was part of a movement of filmmakers finding voice through analog constraints.
Tools of the Trade
Sometimes the smallest tools create the biggest stories. This pocket-sized Sony captured footage that would travel from Paris to Palma de Mallorca, from student project to international film festivals. The filmmaker's accidental cameo was always there—just waiting for the right color grade to be seen.
A Film That Grew Beyond Its Original Design
As Golden Wings evolved, it absorbed oral histories, American Airlines Uniform, and handwritten letters into a broader generational narrative. The accidental self-portrait remained the quiet heartbeat of the intro.
It’s easy to believe a filmmaker remains behind the camera. But every story told, especially in documentary, is colored by the person choosing the frame. Werne Herzog] once said, “Documentary is not the truth, it is the filmmaker’s truth.” That line lives inside this image.
The video opens on a sun-dappled patio of a seaside restaurant in Majorkin Bay, summer 2005. The camera slowly pans out, capturing a vibrant tapestry of life against the dazzling Mediterranean backdrop. Golden sand stretches along the shore, dotted with sunbathers lounging under colorful umbrellas and children scooping up handfuls of ocean-brushed sand. Yachts of all sizes bob gently on the crystal-clear turquoise water, their sails fluttering lazily in the warm breeze.
Beyond the beach, elegant hotels rise with sun-warmed facades, their windows reflecting the endless blue sky. The atmosphere hums with the soft murmur of waves mingling with the distant buzz of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional call of a seabird. Locals and tourists mingle effortlessly—couples strolling hand in hand, families picnicking, friends chatting animatedly—each frame bursting with Mediterranean allure and timeless holiday bliss. The whole scene glows under the golden afternoon sun, a pure, unfiltered slice of coastal paradise.
The Ongoing Conversation With Our Former Selves
That image of me—young, curious, persistent—starts a quiet conversation between past and present. He didn’t know about the screenings, the festival laurels, or the press. He simply wanted to capture a moment he couldn’t yet name.
This is what creative documentation becomes: not just memory storage, but memory re-evaluation. Roland Barthes’ Camera Lucida comes to mind—a photograph is a “certificate of presence.” This one just took 20 years to reveal itself.
A vibrant burst of confetti cascades across the screen, shimmering gold and crimson, as bold, celebratory text pulses in bright neon: "Congratulations! You've received yet another selection on FilmFreeway!" Below, the festive logo of the Palma Film Festival glows against a backdrop of twinkling fairy lights and palm fronds swaying gently, inviting you into a moment of pure cinematic triumph and joy.
The Film That Keeps Traveling While I Stay Still
The film is now screening in Palma de Mallorca, a city that shaped me. I studied there, learned Spanish there, and found my creative compass walking its narrow streets. But I'm grounded—literally. I'm recovering from a fractured tibia with a titanium rod, confined to a couch, watching my film travel without me. To experience the documentary wherever you are, visit gwingz.com and stream it directly.
The Memory of a Mallorca Cove
In a future video, I'll share footage from a quiet cove near Deià, Mallorca—limestone cliffs, turquoise water, and the sound of students laughing in five languages. It was a secret place between classes, where ideas quietly expanded. For creatives visiting Mallorca, check out Fundació Miró Mallorca — a place where visual and memory-based storytelling collide. Now, decades later, the film returns to the island that taught me to listen closely.
Discover the breathtaking beauty of a hidden cove on the island of Majorca during the vibrant summer of 2005. Crystal-clear turquoise waters gently lap against pristine white sands, framed by rugged cliffs and lush Mediterranean greenery. Sunlight dances across the sea, inviting you to unwind in this tranquil paradise where time slows and nature's charm takes center stage. A serene escape captured in a moment of warm, timeless bliss.
The Shot That Continues Without Me
The truth is, we can't follow our work everywhere. Sometimes it enters a room we cannot. And that's the beauty of storytelling—it travels without permission. Someone will sit in Palma's CineCiutat, see the elevator reflection, and meet the version of me I never introduced.
That moment is now theirs.
I finally saw him.
He was always there.
I simply hadn't looked closely enough.
The unedited Version of my trip up The Eiffel Tower elevator.
FAQ
Q: Is that really you in the elevator shot?
A: It is. I never noticed it until now—which feels wildly poetic. Like my future self had already photobombed the past.
Q: Why include accidental footage in a documentary?
A: Because accidents tell the truth. There's no polish, no pose—just raw intent. That's where the magic often lives.
Q: What's next for Golden Wings?
A: The film continues to screen internationally. I'm exploring releasing additional archival footage on my blog and potentially crafting a follow-up visual essay.
Q: Will you be returning to Mallorca soon?
A: As soon as this titanium rod and I are travel-ready. That cove's waiting.
Q: Where can we watch the film now?
A: Easy—gwingz.com. It's up and streaming for the world to find their own reflection in it.
