I’ve always been obsessed with cinema. The kind that makes you feel things, the kind that leaves you staring at the ceiling long after the screen fades to black. And for as long as I can remember, I wanted to be part of that world—crafting stories, capturing emotions, making people see things differently.

Then, life threw me a curveball. Architecture happened. And then Buildofy happened. Before I knew it, I found myself on a shoot—not as a director, not as a cinematographer, but as an Architecture Journalist. Somewhere between asking the right questions and framing the right shots, I realized I wasn’t just about practicing architecture anymore. I was helping bring it to life on screen.

The Shoot That Changed Me

My first project was Karai. Absolute architectural gem. The kind of place that makes you want to sit back and soak in every little detail.

From the moment I boarded my flight, I knew this wasn’t going to be just another work trip. I’m not a morning person. At all. If the world operated from 1 PM onwards, I’d be thriving. But shoot days? They start at ungodly hours. And yet, there I was the first person on location, somehow beating the sun to work. Who even was I?

Adrenaline does weird things to you.

I was buzzing with excitement, probably smiling for no reason (a thing I do a lot). I couldn’t wait to see if all the shots in my head would actually work in real life. And for someone who freezes up in front of a thesis jury, suddenly being the one asking the questions—interviewing the architect—felt like a bizarre role reversal. Like, wait, I AM IN CHARGE, HERE? This can’t be right.

It might sound wrong. But, it felt like a win.

A Night Owl Turned Early Bird (But Only for Shoots)

The thing is, I hate mornings. I truly do. But the night before a shoot? I don’t sleep. Not because of stress, but because the creative energy is SO on point. I stay up thinking about the frames, the lighting, and how we’ll bring the story together.

And then, just like that, I become the first person on set—half asleep but fully charged at the same time. The energy is unreal.

We spend the whole day capturing every angle, every shadow, chasing the best light like our lives depend on it. And as the day nears its end, it always feels like the climax of a film—the golden-hour shots, the last-minute rush, the desperate “Just one more take!” please.

Then, boom. We pack up, run to the airport, and somehow make our flights. (Okay, mostly make our flights.)

The Post-Shoot High – AKA Watching My Baby Take Shape

But the real fun? It happens after we get back.

Looking at raw footage is equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Will it all come together? Did we get the perfect shots? Will I have to hide under my desk in shame?

Then, slowly, it starts clicking. The story finds its thread, the visuals fall into place, and before I know it—I’m watching our film take shape.

And that’s when it hits me.

I’m not a director. I’m not a cinematographer. But I am a storyteller. I get to bring architecture to life in a way that makes people feel something. And for someone who grew up dreaming of cinema, this is my version of it.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.