We were lucky to catch up with Paige Sparks recently and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Paige, thanks for joining us today. We’d love to hear from you about what you think Corporate America gets wrong in your industry and why it matters.
My friends and fellow creatives have discovered a common theme within our industry: the challenge of maintaining our creative voice while fulfilling the need to monetize our craft to make ends meet. When I first picked up a video camera at the age of ten, it was just me and my Beanie Babies creating stop-motion films in my bedroom. Eventually, my friends and I transitioned to creating horror films in our basements. My early years of creative experimenting spawned a proclamation from a mentor, “This might be a career for you someday!” The idea of being a filmmaker had never crossed my mind. For me, filmmaking was always just a way to have fun, pass the time, explore my voice, and simply create. The idea that I could perceivably do this for a living, provoked a mind shift. I suddenly felt pressure to perform at a higher level. I began comparing myself to others in the field, and my good pal, “imposter syndrome,” became an ever-present shadow. Not to say these habits of comparison can’t be great tools for growth and motivation. I love learning and gaining inspiration from my fellow creatives. However, as soon as I started putting creativity in a box that’s been built by the standards of success and through the lens of Corporate America, I never felt less creative in my life. Corporate America seems committed to systems, standard operating procedures, and rules; all the principles that creatives fight against. Now, after about a decade of professional filmmaking, I am coming to a crossroads where I’m trying to unlearn the systems and rules that have been taught to me to find the authentic version of filmmaking that is more exciting and familiar. At this juncture in my career, I’m hoping to simply create, without borders, rules, or expectations. So to put it simply, when you ask what Corporate America gets wrong in my industry? Everything.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I started out as a theater kid; growing up in the wings of the Egyptian Theater in Park City, Utah, where my mom was the Artistic Director. Watching her command a space with just her voice was mesmerizing—she was a powerhouse, and to me, the ultimate inspiration in the arts. My first paying job was as a stage tech, working behind the scenes. That experience pulled back the curtain (pun intended) on a whole new world of storytelling beyond the stage.
I picked up our family video camera at a young age, and suddenly, everything clicked. The possibilities I saw in theater were amplified by the magic of filmmaking. What started as a fascination turned into a lifelong pursuit; one that truly took shape when I realized the power of film to create meaningful change.
I launched my career at PBS, where I developed a deep love for documentary filmmaking and journalism. Three Emmy’s later, I’ve dedicated myself to telling stories that matter—using film to spark conversations, drive social justice initiatives, and make an impact on the world.
All of my films have had a profound impact on me. Most of them stem from a deep desire to explore a particular topic or social issue that I feel deserves greater understanding. Through this process, I’ve learned much more than just the craft of filmmaking. The most significant lesson from my years of documenting others’ journeys is discovering my place as a filmmaker in the documentary world.
Documentary filmmaking demands patience, attentive listening, and curiosity. It requires respect—knowing when to step back and understanding that exposure for the sake of exposure doesn’t necessarily make a compelling story. I’ve experienced second-hand trauma during interviews and shared in the grief of my subjects. I’ve witnessed collective tears in spaces that deserve care and vulnerability. Asking my subjects to lay their truths bare, time and time again, constantly reminds me that I must offer the same vulnerability in return.
The unique connections I’ve built with my subjects and my genuine desire to emotionally connect with them to gather authentic information is what sets me apart in the client space. In the end, accolades and awards feel secondary. The most meaningful aspect of my work lies in the genuine connections I’ve made along the way.
Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?
By the time COVID hit, I was a full-time film instructor while freelancing on the side. I had just wrapped my first feature-length independent film and was still riding the high of the festival circuit. I finally felt like I had found my groove—exciting opportunities were coming in, and my career was gaining momentum. But when the world hit pause, so did my work. And I started rethinking what I really wanted out of life and realized living in a big city was no longer catering to the simplicity I craved.
My eagerness to take on a new adventure led me to a job opportunity at a small PBS affiliate in Juneau, Alaska. It felt like the perfect chance to spread my wings, explore a new place and find a simpler pace of life. The first three months in Juneau were nothing short of spectacular—one of the best decisions I’d ever made. But then, everything changed.
One afternoon while skiing, I hit a tree at full throttle and suffered a massive concussion. This accident ultimately changed my life. The relentless symptoms of dizziness, margarines, brain fog, light sensitivity and more – didn’t go away. Doctors had no answers for why I wasn’t getting better. The isolation of my injury, paired with the frustration of always being told it was just anxiety or depression, led me down a rabbit hole, desperately searching for a community that understood and validated my ongoing pain. That’s when I discovered the post-concussion syndrome community—an entire world of people struggling with invisible disabilities and fighting to be believed.
My inner documentarian thrives in places of found injustices. So while I was still battling my ongoing symptoms, I started filming my experience. At first, it was just a way to process the daily grief and feelings of being lost with no answers for my ailments. But soon, I realized the bigger purpose of my film: Raising awareness for Traumatic Brain Injury survivors.
Now, nearly four years later, I’m in post-production on “You’re Fine”, a film about the reality of living with an invisible disability and the medical gaslighting that so many TBI survivors endure. Filming and researching while in the depths of my own healing journey has been one of the most challenging projects of my life. For a long time, I couldn’t even look at the footage without breaking down from PTSD. But a deeper drive pushed me forward. I hoped that someone out there, feeling as lost and unseen as I once did, might find a connection and some solace through this story.
Releasing this film will be more than just a milestone. It will be the cathartic closing of a long, painful chapter as well as a testament to my resilience. I hope the film resonates with a community of people who need to know: We exist. We matter. And we are not alone.
Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?
The biggest pivots I’ve had to make since my accident haven’t just been career shifts, but internal reckonings. As I’ve navigated the physical and emotional toll of my injury, I’ve constantly circled back to the core question from the beginning of this interview: What does corporate America get wrong in my industry? The answer has been a recurring theme in my healing journey.
Set life often breeds a culture of “time is money,” where there’s no room for breaks, vulnerability, or asking for help. I used to buy into that mindset—powering through 12-hour days. Pushing myself past exhaustion. Never complaining. But facing my own disability has reshaped my perspective. I now fully appreciate how vital community building is, both on and off-set.
Where I once prioritized efficiency above all else, I now advocate for my subjects and crews. I remind them to drink water, take breaks, deep breaths, and remember that filmmaking isn’t life or death—it’s about creating. My vision for my career has shifted, too. I no longer chase the biggest clients or the most prestigious credits. What matters most are the connections; the moments of real, human interaction on set, in an interview, or at a screening where conversations unfold in real time.
For me, the most rewarding part of this journey isn’t the final cut of a film, but the discussions that happen after the screening. It’s exciting to witness how stories spark dialogue and how art fosters understanding. No matter what the future holds (pandemics, lost jobs, life-changing accidents), my hope is that we continue to center what truly matters: the memories we make, the stories we tell, and the simple, yet powerful act of creating art together.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.sparklightproductions.com/
- Instagram: @sparklightproductions
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/paigesparks/
Image Credits
images all credited to myself