One day I’m on set with a full crew, directing or filming a shoot with everything in place—lighting techs, focus pullers, sound recordists, …. The next, I’m a one-man band, lugging gear on my own, setting up in a small office corner, camera in one hand, reflector in the other.

And honestly? I wouldn’t want it any other way.
This isn’t a career ladder where you go from small to big and never look back. It’s a pendulum. swinging between types of jobs. Between setups. Between ways of working.
And that swing is what keeps me sharp and keeps me progressing

When I fly solo, I stay sharp

Smaller shoots force you to wear all the hats. Camera op. DOP. Light wrangler. Sound troubleshooter. Logistics lead. Editor. Therapist. (Let’s be honest.)

You have to understand your gear inside-out. Or at least — I do. It’s not a must for everyone, but for me, it’s part of the deal.I like knowing exactly what every button does, how every setting reacts, and how far I can push my tools. It sometimes makes the learning curve a bit steeper — but in the long run, it makes me better. More confident. More adaptable. More fluent when things go wrong… or need to go faster. And those solo days might be lighter in crew, but they’re heavy in learning. They’re the days that keep my skills alive and evolving.

When I’m on set with a full crew, I still want to know

Directing or filming on a big set means delegating. Trusting others with their part of the puzzle. But that doesn’t mean I want to be hands-off or clueless. I want to know what the focus puller is doing. I want to understand what’s possible for the DOP in that tight corner. I want to speak the language of every crew member, even if I’m not the one holding the cable or pulling focus.

Because that knowledge? It earns a little respect but more importantly, it makes collaboration smoother, faster, more creative. If you know what’s technically feasible and what’s not you can pitch better ideas. Smarter ones. You can pivot faster when something doesn’t work. You’re not directing from a bubble. You’re part of the team.

Big sets sharpen the small setups

Funny enough? The learning doesn’t just go one way.

Working on big productions with experienced crews teaches you systems, workflows, and habits that are incredibly valuable when you’re back on your own. You start prepping differently. You think in lighting setups, gear flows, and audio continuity. You become more strategic with packing, with timing, with how you shoot for edit. That structure, that level of focus, that gear discipline… it’s contagious. So even when I’m flying solo again, I feel the afterglow of those big sets. And everything just runs smoother.

The pendulum goes both ways, and every time, it brings something back with it.

Solo shoots give me technical fluency. Big sets give me structure, pacing, and teamwork dynamics. And everything I learn on one side of the pendulum comes with me to the other. Knowing what it’s like to shoot alone makes me appreciate crew power.
Knowing how to manage a full production makes me way more efficient when I’m back on my own.

It’s a balancing act. Not a hierarchy. Not a step up. A swing.

Growth lives in the switching

I like variation. I need variation. Because variation keeps you humble, curious, and evolving. There’s no such thing as “I’ve got it all figured out” in this job. That’s when you stop learning. So whether I’m leading a team of 10 or just me and my backpack, I’m always taking notes.

Always learning. Always bringing new things to the next shoot. That’s the magic of the pendulum. It doesn’t just swing. It keeps you moving evolving, growing.

Keep the small stuff to get better at the big stuff and vice versa.
And keep he small stuff to stay grounded 🙃