in conversation with mike mills

No collection of stills has ever spoken to me to the extent of Mike Mills’. He is a film director, cinematographer and a graphic designer working mainly in movie production. I have seen his short i am easy to find at least 20 times now and each time there are new instances where I am forced to pause, admire, and question the scene in front of me. Moments that seem so benign and plain are captured in ways that make us appreciate them so much more and examine their depth in ways we never knew them to contain: arguing in the car, sitting on the floor against the side of the bed, answering the phone. After being exposed to his work, I am reminded that a lot of my own memories appear in my mind in still moments in time as opposed to moving ones — objects, gestures, angles and light. Through his imagery, I am hopeful that 50 years from now, when my parents are gone and my sister and I live apart I will remember the glass and change on my father’s night stand, my sister’s dangly spider web earrings, and my mother’s arms. 

I see a lot of myself in Mills’ works but at the same time the minimalist and sleek narrative he produces is so universal I feel in some way we have all experienced it — love and loss, beginnings and endings, a defined sense of belonging and an overwhelming sense of estrangement. My sister is at a very interesting stage in her life that I thought would function well in conversation with the work of Mills. She is so wise beyond her years, but at the same time she is still trying to navigate the social dramas and miscommunications that come with being a 14 year old girl who is really beginning to come into her own. 

In this series I wanted to capture her at this age, in this body, with these emotions and thoughts about the world in a way that would reflect back to the take-aways I have after viewing Mills’ work.