I’ve directed short fiction films, documentaries, advertisements, and commissioned works. These range from intimate, uncomfortable stories (Yksi muista, Amme) to dystopian genre pieces (Girls Don’t Cry) and a large-scale fantasy production (The Demon of Midday). Along the way I’ve staged museum films with reenacted sea battles, slow-motion art videos involving exploding cabbages, and projects where the brief was vague and the deadline yesterday. My work often circles themes that are a little risky — power, control, intimacy, belief — and I don’t mind if a film makes the room slightly quieter than expected.

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The Demon of Midday deserves a special mention. It was an international production with over a hundred collaborators from around fifteen countries, combining practical effects, extensive digital VFX, multilingual actor direction, and a long, technically demanding post-production. The project clarified, in very concrete terms, where scale and emotional focus must meet, and across two demanding years it proved my ability to carry large-scale productions with high visual and technical ambition.

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Alongside directing, I’ve spent years inside production itself. I’ve designed and built large-scale sets, animatronics, and props; supervised pyrotechnics and flame systems (including a patented effect); and worked on shoots involving underwater camerawork, high-speed photography, and fragile one-take setups. These experiences shape how I direct: I know what ideas weigh, what takes time, and what fails first when something goes wrong.

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I’ve worked with multinational crews and direct fluently in English, often in imperfect conditions — long days, strange locations, weather that won’t cooperate. I value professionalism, but not martyrdom. Reasonable hours, decent food, and clear communication aren’t softness; they’re how you keep people sharp when things get muddy, loud, or physically demanding. Calm tends to travel faster than shouting.

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Artistically, I’m drawn to grounded stories that lean slightly toward the mythic or the uncanny — moments where everyday behaviour starts to feel ritualistic, and ethical or emotional questions surface through action rather than explanation. Visually, I prefer control over excess: compositions that hold, light that reveals only what’s needed, and effects that belong to the world instead of advertising themselves.

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I don’t like steering the audience by the hand. I’d rather leave a door open and trust people to walk through it. If a film of mine lingers as a feeling, a question, or a small internal disturbance rather than a clear answer, then it’s probably doing what I intended.