Looking back on 2025, I’m struck by how much polarity it held at the same time.
I opened my laptop this morning to catch up on my end-of-December feeds. (TBH, I’m slowly weaning off the minute-by-minute social scrolling.)
Mixed in with everything else was terrific news about two of the films I’ve poured the past six years into – VIVA VERDI! (Oscar short-listed for Original Song) and LILLY (Variety’s Best Overlooked Films of 2025).
That was the kind of news that looks shiny and celebratory from the outside.
Alongside that were updates on my personal passion projects like VOW OF SILENCE: The Assassination of Annie Mae (Film Independent Spirit Awards Nominee 2026) and STEAL THIS STORY, PLEASE! (Fall Festival premieres) – and emails from artists I’ve been working with over the year. Each one shared progress—pieces falling into place, projects inching forward, small wins after long stretches of uncertainty, and resilience when doors slammed shut. Quiet, hard-earned victories.
Seeing all of it together is when it hit me how opposite emotions were living in the same year.
I expected to feel pure excitement. Instead, once I let the news settle in my body, what surfaced was something deeper. A mix of joy and profound realization, heavier than a press headline. It carried the full weight of everything it took to get here: the pandemic, the strikes, the starts and stops of trying to move projects forward, the closed doors and the open ones, the yeses and the nos, the egos and the altruists. The personal challenges we each carried while navigating constant societal upheaval—individually and collectively.
Sitting with that, something shifted for me.
I realized that 2025 wasn’t a year that could be labeled “good” or “bad.” It held both at the same time. Bleakness and promise. Frustration and momentum. And all the while, it kept moving forward.
What became clearer to me than ever before is that no matter what challenges or changes lie ahead for us in 2026, our work—and our contributions within our own worlds—MATTER. Especially now. Especially when things feel unstable and unclear.
Continuing to create, to voice, to share isn’t for naught. It’s imperative. It’s how we stay connected, human, and fulfilled. Our art and creative expression —whether it feels small or significant—matter not just to us, but to the people watching and walking alongside us. Our audiences, our families, our friends, our communities, our colleagues, our industries, and our society.
We are examples for one another. Sometimes, simply continuing to show up and make the work is the most meaningful thing we can do.
As I step into what’s next, I’m holding this question with me: What might be possible if we let our 2026 be both—and kept creating anyway?
I’d love to hear from you: How did 2025 show up as both for you?