Julian Acosta: A Few Of My Favourite Things

Director Julian Acosta’s work has taken him around the world, from campaigns for brands including Porsche, Samsung, Delta, Bose, Volkswagen and KFC to music videos, documentaries, television and film.

Represented by Cobblestone in Germany and Stadium Creative Group in the US, the director is drawn to stories that explore identity, belonging and the strange ways people make sense of themselves.

Here, he takes us inside his Utah workspace, sharing the crash cymbals and curiosities that help shape his work.

The Wall Of Notes

Just out of view of my video calls is a wall covered with notes, photos and art that help keep me grounded, inspired and connected to what matters most.

There is a series of drawings from my youngest son, Mateo, that I especially love.

This one’s funny because it's true.

This was one of the first times I noticed he was open to telling an off-colour joke to his old man.

The Interviews

I first watched The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell's conversations with Bill Moyers, while I was in film school.

I was far too young to understand what was really happening in those interviews.

I needed to do a lot more living to wake up and explore the deeper mysteries of life.

I eventually found my way back to Joseph Campbell, and this time his work landed in a completely different way.

I try to read the companion book at least once a year.

I've immersed myself in his work.

I've discovered a love of learning.

I'm especially drawn to books about consciousness, psychology, mythology, altered states, filmmaking and what it means to be human.

The Palo Santo And Stone

My grandmother was a witch, or bruja.

She used to have my mum and my aunt translate for her clients who spoke English.

Eventually, they refused.

They didn't share her spiritual beliefs or practices.

Years later, my mum became a Mormon, and my aunt became a Jehovah's Witness.

I was raised Mormon, but eventually, I left the faith because I no longer shared my parents' beliefs.

Life moves in strange cycles.

I don't understand it all, but I'm drawn to those contradictions.

My work is an attempt to sit with them, to ask why, to make sense of where I come from, and to better understand who I am.

Whether I'm directing a commercial, episodic, or film, I'm searching for the same thing: a piece of human truth.

I think that's what people connect with, even when they can't quite explain why.

My sister Serina gave me this palo santo and stone.

I burn it when I'm in the creative process.

It's a ritual of remembrance of my family, my ancestors and the path that brought me here.

It reminds me to bring more of myself into my work.

The Drum Kit

I'm sorta mid at it, but it brings me so much joy to play drums in bands, especially if the music is a little punky.

I bought this 1964 Slingerland with money my ex-wife's grandmother gave us as a wedding gift.

There’s something about drums that bypasses the thinking mind.

Sometimes you just need to get it all out.

Creatively.

Emotionally.

Physically.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is to get loud and disappear into the sound for a while.

The Reel-To-Reel Recorder

I borrowed this reel-to-reel recorder from someone I was introduced to for a project for The Shins.

We lost touch before I could return it.

A decade later, I met Colin at a party.

He had just moved back.

We started talking, exchanged numbers, and realised from our text thread he was the long-lost owner.

Thankfully, he let me hang on to it.

I like keeping objects from the projects I've directed.

They become time capsules of moments that happened along the way.

The Vintage Phone

I recently directed a commercial for Wiley, a company that makes landlines for families with young kids at home.

They help families spend less time on smartphones while still giving kids a way to stay connected.

As a thank you, the team at Wiley installed a landline in our home and tracked down the vintage phone I had as a teenager.

As it turns out, my wife had the very same phone growing up.

What a trip.

It was such a thoughtful gift.

The Didgeridoo

A few years ago I was directing a KFC campaign in Sydney, and arm wrestled the crew every day on set.

I was undefeated.

Arm wrestling became my excuse to have some boyish fun and get to know all my new Australian friends.

They started telling me about a grip who would be joining us later in the week.

They couldn't wait for him to put me in my place.

Apparently this guy was a monster.

The day he arrived, I knew my winning streak was over.

His arms were about as thick as my torso.

We squared off, he started taking me down, and I figured I'd give it one last heroic push so at least everyone knew I'd gone out fighting.

Snap!

I broke my humerus.

I passed out.

An ambulance was called.

Plenty of photos were taken before I was carted off to the hospital to get a cast.

It was only day three of ten and I wasn't about to go home.

The bone hadn't been properly set yet, so my bones were grinding when I moved the wrong way every day on set.

I did my best to tough it out.

At wrap the crew surprised me, they all wore glasses like mine and slings on their arms.

They gifted me this didgeridoo.

It's still one of my favourite production memories.

I left Australia with a broken arm, a didgeridoo and a crew I'll never forget.

The Santa Clara-Style Pot

While I was serving a Mormon mission in Española, New Mexico, potter Harrison Begay taught me to make this small Santa Clara-style pot.

Twenty years later, I was in Santa Fe screening my film The Seven Faces of Jane.

I was on a creative high and feeling nostalgic for my past life too.

I could finally afford one of Harrison's pieces, so I gave him a call.

He invited me over to spend my last couple of hours in town firing pottery with him and his son.

Bits and pieces of those days from decades earlier started coming back to him.

I bought this beautiful pot made by his son Daniel.

It was still warm from the firing when he wrapped it in a T-shirt for me to carry onto the plane.