An intimate portrait of Mexican textile artist Victoria Villasana: colored threads that awaken black-and-white photographs, carefully chosen palettes, and geometries that become rhythm. The documentary weaves bursts of 8mm with clean digital frames to echo the tactile grain of her craft, as the camera follows the flow of needle and city. Between sources of inspiration and the power of working by hand, each stitch turns into a story.
RITAMORENA ZOTTI: In blending 8mm film with digital imagery, you mirror the layered textures of Victoria’s work. What inspired this interplay of formats, and what did it allow you to express?
FELICIA MANNING: It felt natural to bring analogue and digital together, and this was very much inspired by Victoria’s work. She combines vibrant thread, texture, and color with black and white portraits of leaders, cultural figures, and activists, so it felt right to push the contrast of digital against the grain of 8mm film. What it allowed me to express was the grittiness and the parallel to the way Victoria blends mediums. I didn’t want anything to feel too perfect, because for me that imperfection is symbolic. That’s what makes art so beautiful, the honesty that comes from its lack of perfection.
RZ: How did your journey as a self-taught director shape the way you entered into Victoria’s world and story?
FM: Being self-taught has always meant relying on instincts, trusting my voice, and pursuing stories that draw me in. That approach helped me enter Victoria’s world with openness. We began with a conversation, and that set the tone for how we continued to film, following the flow of the day and discovering what felt right in the moment. Her outlook on life is to create, stay present, and work with your hands without overthinking. I found a lot of resonance between how I’ve learned to direct and how she approaches her art, both rooted in trusting yourself to create.
RZ: You gravitate toward intimate human stories — what, in Victoria’s practice and presence, felt urgent to capture on film?
FM: I only knew Victoria through her work, so going in I only had her art to build from. Yet it spoke to me viscerally, and I felt an immediate connection to her style. The portraits she chose, the dynamic colors, and the expression in each piece all carried her energy. What felt urgent to capture was the artist behind the work. She has a way of thinking outward, of seeing how creating with our hands can connect us and carry our stories. Art may feel small, but it brings light, expression, and connection, which in many ways is vital. That was exactly what I hoped to find on film.
RZ: Is there a moment within the documentary that you consider its quiet centre, the point where the essence of the story crystallises?
FM: For me it’s when Victoria talks about being in the right place at the right time and coming across another artist who was just doing his thing. Witnessing that, at exactly the right moment, set off a spark in her to pursue her own path as an artist. That really spoke to me, and I think we can all relate to that spark hitting us and shifting the trajectory of our lives if we are able to notice it. It felt like a moment that truly centered the film.
RZ: Looking across your body of work, do you see this film as part of a larger thread in your exploration of women’s voices and BIPOC artistry?
FM: Absolutely. I’m drawn to women, BIPOC voices, and those who create without waiting for permission. Their work carries a vital energy that feels especially needed right now, bringing light and connection in difficult times.
RZ: Early in the film, there’s a sequence where the camera follows Victoria’s hands in a single, flowing movement — almost like a dance. How did you conceive and capture that moment, and what did you wish it to convey?
FM: We had been filming Victoria’s process, and the rhythm of the needle and thread moving through the canvas struck me immediately. It carried its own pulse and fluidity. At that moment I asked my DP to push the camera fast and high so we could flow with her. What I wanted to convey was the energy and rhythm that runs through her work, the way it moves with its own life. That shot is one of my favorites because it feels like the camera is moving with her art.
Questions for Victoria Villasana
RITAMORENA ZOTTI: Your work weaves together monochrome photography and vibrant embroidery — what first drew you to this dialogue between stillness and movement, absence and color?
VICTORIA VILLASANA: At the beginning it was a subconscious decision, but later on I saw it as trying to balance and unify polarities. The greys transmit a bit of coldness, detachment; colours and textiles bring emotion and belonging to each piece.
RZ: The colors and geometric forms in your stitching seem to carry an emotional cadence. How do you approach the process of choosing a palette for each piece?
VV: My textile process is completely intuitive, the only process that is planned is the selection of the image and that comes to life because I want to share a character, a moment in history or a personal story that is meaningful to me.
RZ: You speak of the power of working with your hands. What does “thinking through the hands” mean to you on a deeper, almost meditative level?
VV: I feel creativity connects us with our humanity: there’s something about working with our hands or moving our bodies that connect us with something deeper, our bodies carry a lot of knowledge that sometimes we are not aware of. We live in a world full of distractions disconnected from our bodies, we stay in our minds. Making things with our hands allows us to connect with our bodies, we allow our body to communicate.
RZ: Is there a single image, memory, or place you return to — consciously or unconsciously — as the seed of your artistic vision?
VV: My Childhood in Mexico, drawing in my room, making dresses for my dolls, feeling happy. That process of creation stayed with me, creativity for me is the food of the soul.
RZ: In the film, we often see you moving through the city. How does the urban environment shape your sense of rhythm, composition, and narrative?
VV: The world around me inspires me a lot, urban or nature. I tend to observe the colour combinations I see, the geometry shapes, the textures, the patterns. They tend to stand out and speak to me often.
RZ: There’s a quiet moment in the film where your needle lingers above the photograph before the thread breaks the surface — what is happening internally for you in that pause, and how does it reflect your relationship with the work?
VV: I don’t really know, it is a feeling of trust, I enter in a conversation with the piece and it is letting me know what to do. It’s very serendipitous.