We were lucky to catch up with Dana Ziyasheva recently and have shared our conversation below.

Dana, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.

I loved taking risks from a very early age, and when I say, ‘very early,’ I mean at the age of 4. We lived in the 8th micro-district of Almaty, which was the capital of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic back then. Kindergarten didn’t agree with me, so my parents allowed me to stay at home with my laid-back grandma. Until I started school at the age of 7, I had the freedom to roam our courtyard—a vast square enclosed by four residential buildings and shadowed by tree gardens. One day, bored and unsupervised, I persuaded my friend to embark on a ‘journey.’ We took off to explore other courtyard universes and eventually reached the edge of our 8th micro-district, marked by a busy road with cars. We encountered curious adults who questioned why we were alone. Our response: we were on an exploratory expedition, fully sanctioned by our parents. When we returned home that evening, chaos and panic had engulfed the entire courtyard as everyone frantically searched for the two missing girls. Our parents scolded us, but the lesson didn’t quite stick because some time later, I set off on yet another “journey”: The allure of adventure and discovery proved irresistible.

On my way to elementary school, I used to pass by a public kindergarten with a luxurious playground. That gave me an idea to sneak in on a weekend and have it all to myself. A school friend joined me, and, together, we enjoyed the kindergarten’s swings, slides, and sandbox until we were apprehended by an elderly security guard. He was a pedophile, something I came to realize years later. Fortunately, we managed to slip away from his clutches before anything sinister occurred, but even a brief moment on his lap was profoundly unsettling. This haunting memory lingered for years, making me ponder about the kinds of risks I was willing to take.

Sure, I’ve bungee-jumped off the highest bridge in Europe and scuba-dived with sharks in the Indian Ocean, just for the thrill of it. However, no matter how unconventional some of my actions might appear, I tend to take calculated risks. There must be a meaningful reward at the end of every perilous journey.

I volunteered to work in Northern Iraq as part of the United Nations’ ‘Oil-for-Food’ Program. I often awoke to sounds of nighttime explosions and gunfire. In the morning, I made sure that the schools where I conducted teacher training, were meticulously checked for explosives and closely guarded. During the civil war in Tajikistan, I visited intellectuals in Dushanbe to show the international community’s support and assisted local archives and museums in safeguarding their invaluable heritage. Both the local organizers and I were taking risks – I could have been kidnapped by radicals, and they had put a price on the heads of brave officials who received me. Nevertheless, my mission was morally rewarding. I trekked through the mountains alongside Karen guerrillas in Myanmar to gather information about cannibalistic practices for my novel ‘Shock.’ My boldest move to date: leaving a 20-year United Nations career for Hollywood.

Risk-taking is integral to my creative work. A hero’s journey is incomplete without leaving the familiar behind and entering a new world full of unknown dangers. In ‘Greatland,’ my dystopian fantasy film, I explore the primal, unconscious craving for adventure and the fear of the monster that guards the playground. In the featured podcast ‘How I Solved the Homeless Crisis in Cali,’ I tell the story of a twenty-year-old Angeleno who takes risks and even commits crimes to defend his wounded pride.

As one grows older, perhaps the riskiest game to play becomes the financial one. A significant financial bet gone wrong has painful, long-term consequences that impact your entire family. The weight of responsibility for the loved ones makes me cautious these days: I want to keep them safe.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I am currently in the production of the second season of my feature podcast, “How I Solved the Homeless Crisis in Cali” with a talented actor Arman Darbo. In this modern-day rendition of ‘Crime and Punishment,’ a disenfranchised young Angeleno inadvertently sparks an all-out war in California by simply assisting those in need. If you’re a fan of “Breaking Bad” and “Lord of the Flies,” I invite you to check out my podcast on Buzzsprout, YouTube, and other platforms.

I also wrote and directed my first feature film, “Defenders of Life,” in Costa Rica, in collaboration with the Ngabe tribe. Our four-person crew lived with the tribe, capturing the drama of three generations of Ngabe women in their homes, at waterfalls, and in the rainforest. “Defenders of Life,” a tale of children bearing children, played a crucial role in the passing of a law that banned child marriages in Costa Rica. You can watch it on Amazon Prime to experience the vibrant colors, mystical visions, and Shakespearean drama of the Ngabe people.

What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?

Hollywood power dynamics are full of paradox, with odds stuck against the industry’s creative foundation—artists. The system favors producers, agents, marketing professionals, and development executives. They determine the content to be made and hand-pick the most suitable talent to execute their vision. In the latest spat with WGA, they even threatened to replace writers with A.I. It’s gatekeeping and profit-seeking at its most extreme. What’s intriguing is that the very same producers who refuse to pay overtime or contribute to writers’ medical insurance don’t skimp on marketing expenses and star riders, all while increasing their upfront fees and residuals. There should be state regulations in place to curb producers’ greed and ensure the protection of talent.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

Only a very small percentage of creative people can live off their art. It’s often challenging for relatives and friends with 9-to-6 jobs to comprehend why an artist chooses instability over stability, precarity, and unemployment over a gradual increase in salary and career growth—all in the pursuit of creative self-expression and dreams. These are tough choices that take guts to make. I was called a ‘fool who doesn’t think about her kids’ future,’ when I left the safety of my job at the United Nations and took a leap of faith into indie filmmaking. But guess what? Eight years later, I’m still here in Los Angeles, my kids are doing well, and I have a full slate of exciting projects.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://danaziyasheva.com/
• Instagram: danaziyasheva
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dana.ziyasheva/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/dana-ziyasheva/
• Twitter: @DanaZiyasheva
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@danaziyasheva6162
• Other: https://howisolvedthehomelesscrisisincali.buzzsprout.com/

Image Credits
images from personal archives, except for the black and white newspaper cut.