CARAZ: A Few Of My Favourite Things
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BURN Studio director CARAZ kicks off 2026 with a look at the practices, not objects, that fuel her creativity.
I’m writing these lines with my feet tucked in the white sand of Fuerteventura, a windy Canary Island where snowbirds slow-roast their lobster skin on five-euro chairs.
Around me are frizzy, beer-chested men, toddlers coughing and chirping over collapsing sand fortresses, and me pretending my laptop isn’t filling with sand.
Above the screen, the blue ocean and a volcano from the neighbouring island keep stealing the show.
I just wrapped a demanding job in Paris and, despite being the only person doing computer work in the dunes, after only a few days in the south I feel relaxed and weirdly ready for the next thing.
After years of hauling myself across continents for work, I realised something important.
My creativity does not live in objects.
It lives in my well-being.
Creativity is my default setting, but the moment my nervous system gets unbalanced, my brain goes blank, and so does my confidence.
A calm mind is the only tool I trust.
Here are the things that keep me from going coo-coo and keep the creative tap flowing.
The Yoga Mat
When I travel, my rider has exactly one item on it: a yoga mat.
Nothing calms me down like a good Pilates session.
It makes me feel strong, forces every neuron to behave, and gives me an instant sense of accomplishment.
The photos are from my gym in Montreal.
Yes, it has all sorts of machines.
No, I’ve never touched a single one.
I go straight to the terrace to follow free YouTube videos from Move With Nicole that I absolutely could do at home, yet insist on doing at the gym I pay for.
Haters would call it fiscal irresponsibility.
I call it atmosphere.
I love the light through the stained windows, the greenery, and the spa smell drifting up from below.
Every session ends the same way.
Sauna, and, when feeling brave, a cold plunge.
The Notes App
“Quotes From My Brain” is literally the name of my Notes app dump.
Inspiration always hits when I’m notebook-less, right before sleep or mid-grocery aisle, so my phone has become a museum of chaotic thoughts, ideas, life reflections, and lines that make sense only at midnight.
Above is a shameless screenshot.
The Night Routine
Wherever I go, I bring my nighttime ritual.
Clean sheets, eucalyptus scent, a book, and a joint.
This is my holy hour of doing nothing.
Wandering through my thoughts, questioning the universe, or engaging in long meta-conversations with ChatGPT.
Some of my deepest insights appear in that little tunnel between consciousness and sleep.
If I don’t get that hour, I feel robbed, like someone stole my favourite part of the day and replaced it with noise.
I need stillness to remember how to move freely.
The People
My Montreal circle is the rawest, purest, most low-ego film community I’ve ever known.
Despite the usual industry competition, we actually help each other, genuinely.
We celebrate wins, roast failures, rent cabins, throw unhinged New Year’s parties, and brainstorm like we’re trying to save each other’s lives.
They’re my creative safety net and the best chaos to bounce ideas off.
The Cash (In Sight)
Growing up, my mother always carried little folded triangles of dollar bills in her bags, her car, and every drawer.
Lucky charms she would never spend.
I kept the habit.
I now carry random currencies in strange locations.
Seeing physical money, even wrinkled, keeps me in an abundant mindset.
Advertising jobs appear and vanish in a heartbeat.
Staying financially sane helps me choose projects for the excitement, not just the pay cheque.
That keeps my creativity sharp instead of compromised.
The New Skills
My bucket list is endless.
I’ll try anything that holds my attention for more than an hour.
Here’s a photo of my feet in the Pacific Ocean, digging for seaweed.
Last June, on a remote northern island in British Columbia, I took a foraging class.
Harvesting kelp, smoking it over a fire, crisping it in the oven, and turning it into a salty bar snack.
Foraging slows time down.
You must pay attention, and because of that, it becomes very meditative.
Also, seaweed somehow tastes better when you pick it yourself.
