We recently connected with Ashley Landavazo and have shared our conversation below.
Ashley , looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Can you open up about a risk you’ve taken – what it was like taking that risk, why you took the risk and how it turned out?
Before starting my career in film, I was director of operations in a tech company. I had a retirement account, insurance, regular paycheck, and I had weekends. Previous to that, I worked for the American Cancer Society and a bank. Again with all of the above and even better benefits and career paths. Admittedly, when it’s the 18th hour on an overnight, my brain will often swing between thoughts of having a regular job, getting fruit snacks, or focusing on what’s on the glowing monitor. But then I see my team, my fellow soldiers in the trenches, and I realize that there is nothing like being on set. When the hard work from every department happens to flow perfectly into THE shot, there is a state of elation that you wouldn’t want to share with anyone else, other than your film crew. Nor could you be able to completely share the achievement with anyone outside of the film crew, because it’s always a “you had to be there” kind of story. I grew to realize my love for filmmaking more and more while at the tech job. Especially when I spent most of my weekends and PTO on friend’s film projects. I also started to realize that overnights and 8AM accounting meetings didn’t work out so well. Working in tech was no longer rewarding and instead was the “other” job.
It wasn’t until 2017 when two loud gunshots rang near my ear, the smell of gunpowder filled my nose, and adrenaline caused my perspective to change everything. In an attempt to save someone from hurting themselves (they and everyone there was safe at the end) I had my very first real brush with death. No one ever explains that when you go through trauma that the world continues to go at the same speed if not even faster after you go through it. Nothing stops and all the same accounting meetings I had to take before, I still had afterwards. Around that same time, I had a short film I production designed in SXSW. So I took my “me time” to see it and finally determined that I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life doing a job I didn’t want. Instead I was going to take the leap and do film full time. Because what did I have to lose? It wasn’t my life, I already almost lost that, so it’s all up from there.
When I first started talking to people about doing film full time the first thing they always said was “it’s hard”. And it was, there were times where I couldn’t pay all of my bills from film alone. So I would drive for Lyft and try to sell things online while “paying my dues”. When I wasn’t doing that I was networking like no one else’s business. Eventually one job led to another and I no longer had to reach out to producers and directors in cold emails and cold phone calls. Eventually they ended up texting me.
For me it wasn’t taking the risk to run towards the film industry that was hard. Instead it was being able to prove that I was worth it to others. To show that not only did I deserve to be there just as much as the tenured crew members, but to show to my husband and my family that I could do this. To prove that their support of me would be just as easy as me jumping. For the record, their support was unwavering and I don’t think I could have done it without them, but still, I didn’t want them to ever regret it.
Now the question is, was it worth it? Is it worth it when seeing the sun rise in morning traffic after leaving an overnight set? Yes, it is always worth it because time and time again I can prove that art can win. Despite everything, I know I can do anything with my creative abilities. And if I was put through it all over again I would take that risk for myself again.
Ashley , love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
My very first project was actually with my now husband, Paul Gandersman. When we were dating he was working as a freelance producer in Austin and boy did I think that was cool. He got the opportunity to co-direct a short with Peter Hall, and he asked me if I wanted to be the production designer. I said “What? What is a production designer?” He explained that the production designer decorates the set and “makes it look good”. I was already a very creative person and thought well I suppose I could give it a shot. The short was “Givertaker” (You can find it on OMELETO’s YouTube channel).
For Givertaker, I sketched up the monster design, attempted the storyboards, made a key prop, and used a hammer for the first time to create a portal to hell. When it came time to shoot it, we were with professionals who had been making movies for a while. Was I nervous? Yes. But I was also really excited. Yes! In fact, you know that feeling when you’re at a concert and the main band you came to see walks on stage to play your favorite banger? That was what it was like being on set, every single minute of it was a banger. Soon after that, I got to work on other projects for friends for free. Eventually, word got around and I started getting paid jobs.
My career trajectory has been really crazy. I started from the top and learned from the deep end of the pool for sure! I have had the honor of working on 4 features as production designer, art director, and set designer, lots of amazing shorts, a few commercials, snapchat movies, tv shows and YouTube streams.
With all of these projects, I was able to combine my business operations experience with more and more tools. Literally and figuratively. Admittedly, one of my greatest achievements is my tool kit. Being in film you always have to show how you stand out to producers, directors, and crew members. For me I do that by trying to bring it all to the table. With my operations experience I can handle all the accounting, legal negotiations, communications, and scheduling required to keep an art department operating efficiently. With film experience I can make all the estimates (including construction), I can build my sets, I can design the blueprints for them, and most importantly I can balance the emotional needs of my team. And trust me, when you’re working long hours making the impossible possible, there are emotional needs. It doesn’t matter how much of a badass you are. And for the record, most filmmakers are badasses.
For me I have a few favorite projects, of course there is Givertaker. Then there is Hold To Your Best Self, which was the first project I worked on with a “big” budget. The Dark and the Wicked was the first project where I worked with a director my friends knew. Then there was SEEK, which was the first set I built in a studio with a great team. Rumination was my first multi-room set made of 1,200+ sq ft, built also with a super talented team. Lastly Spy Kids Armageddon, where I had my first set design project ever, I designed the kids spy house.
Overall, if I were to condense my brand, it would be I am a hard working Latina, who’s been on both sides of the grass, who chooses to be on the project, and give everything that I can to it.
What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?
The hardest thing to unlearn is that not everything can be perfect. It is really easy to fall into the psychosis of Nina Sayers (Black Swan) and just get lost in the details of perfection and comparison. Especially, when you’re not working and you see that others are. We all feel that, if you’re reading this and you’re wondering why you’re the last one hired, just know you’re not and it’ll be okay.
When I am on a project I tell myself, something will go wrong, I will mess up, it could be an epic mess up, but at the end of the day, it’s a movie. I have been on more than one and there will be more in the future. That isn’t to say that I forget the mistakes either. I have forgotten props before (Tthis is why you have two of everything), I have painted things the wrong color, I have gotten characters mixed up, I have messed up on my estimates, I have been too soft on people, I have been too hard on people, I have framed a door too short, I brought an impact driver and not impact bits, I have brought a dead headlight to an overnight, I have cut myself, broken a finger, dented my car, made eye contact with the talent during a scene, etc etc. There are so many. And there will be more. However, that being said I have made a lot of awesome stuff appear out of thin air too, and it’s good to remember that (telling myself more than anything).
Focusing on the tiny details and losing myself to the madness of perfection doesn’t allow me to be open to collaboration, and it doesn’t allow me to pivot or grow. Pivoting is essential as a production designer. There will always be a budget that gets cut, a lamp request that wasn’t there before, a last second hatred for a prop that I made 3 months ago and I have to find another at 4 AM. But not letting that overwhelm me allows me to think oh I can call this person or I have this prop that can be changed to x, and last but not least I can hear my team out and see how bright they are and allow them to shine in that moment.
At the end of the day it really just matters how you get through it all.
In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?
I think there are a few things that can be done to best support artists.
One, encourage their journey. I have been through a lot in my personal life that could have broken me, but having the support from my friends and family has had me push through and stick to my goals. You never know what someone could be going through, kind words go a long way.
Two, value what they have to bring to the table. Creating art is hard, it makes you vulnerable and it is often created with very little resources. Creatives deserve to get paid for the knowledge that they have. I remember I tried to start an art collective in college. We would make art and jewelry to sell at a local farmers market. One day I brought a large 24″x24″ oil painting that I hand embroidered to the market. A man came by and asked me how much it was. It was the first painting I was going to sell, I didn’t think that anyone would want it. I said something like $60 because I didn’t know my value and I was a college student. He paid me and afterwards said he would have paid me $250. Thinking back on it I wish I kept the painting out of pettiness. However, the lesson of how much my work should have been valued stuck with me.
Three, respect your creative’s experience. When they price something out or tell you how long it’s going to take, that’s how long it takes and that’s how much it costs. Stop trying to cut things because it makes the bottom line prettier. Because what you’re doing is making their lives messier.
Contact Info:
- Website: holaproductiondesign.com
- Instagram: @holaproductiondesign
- Facebook: @holaproductiondesign