When I first read the script for Dukeland, it felt like a gut punch. My grandmother had passed not long before, and I was still reeling from that first real taste of grief. Matthew Stanosolovich’s writing captured that feeling so precisely (raw, strange, poetic) that I cried as soon as I finished reading it. And then, I called Matt, and told him I had to be on the project.

The story follows three siblings navigating the death of their father in wildly different ways: Leslie buries herself in solitude and builds a bomb with a frenemy, Joey latches onto someone who brings out the worst in him, and Vyra befriends a wannabe internet star in search of connection. Each of their stories weaves into a beautiful menagerie of chosen family, self-reliance, and the messy, nonlinear process of moving on.

Dukeland was also the first film I worked on in New Mexico. We all lived together in one big house, and the sense of community on that set cracked something open in me. It’s part of what drew me back West and made me want to build a creative life there for a few years. Rooted in collaboration, absurdity, and stories that aren’t afraid to get a little weird with their grief, the community of the Southwest welcomed me with open arms and inspired future projects for years to come.