Black Women Directors Monthly November 2024
Filmmaker and photographer Noemie Tshinanga
Apologies for the delay in the newsletter coming to your inboxes. Life has been life-ing, but I’m so glad y’all are still here and showing support. It means a lot to me.
And on a quick housekeeping note: I’m so excited to bring a new feature to the newsletter: Filmmaker Spotlight, featuring a Q&A with a filmmaker featured in the digital library. Keep reading for an interview with filmmaker and photographer Noémie Tshinanga!
Filmmaker Spotlight: Noémie Tshinanga
Noémie Tshinanga, commonly known as Noémie-Marguerite, is a Congolese photographer and filmmaker based in Brooklyn, NY. Her work focuses on capturing the “grey area” of life through photography and time-based media.
"How did she know I needed this right now?"
Danielle:
I wanted to talk to you because I’m familiar with your work as a photographer, and I’ve liked your work for a long time. When I saw your film 10 Years Later, I was blown away by its vulnerability and how you're using the archive to have this conversation with your younger self. It really struck a chord with me. And I was wondering, could you talk about the process of creating that short film and what inspired it?
Noemie:
I think it was 2018. It was an interesting year for me. I moved to New York in 2017, and being by [yourself] in a new city, you learn a lot about yourself and navigating different social experiences. I don't know what triggered it, but I started noticing how I was treating myself. I was in a good space at that time, but I also realized I had a lot of negative self-talk, and I'm like, "Wait, where is this coming from?"
A lot of depressed memories were coming up, and I actually had suppressed that memory of when I did the attempt at 17, so when it came back to me, I was like, "Wait, what?" It was new information for me. All those memories were flooding back and I'm like, "Oh, this is interesting. I would like to sort through this." I don't think I ever had the space to navigate that—my emotions as a person.
I knew I initially wanted to do a photo exhibit centered on The Healing Project, but I knew it was crucial for me to actually do the healing first. This wasn't an art-focused thing, it was a self-focused thing. So I did. I have actually always done video diaries, but at that time in 2018, I had not seen any home videos of myself. I did not even know they existed.
I was going through this healing project, doing these video diaries, which I had done for a while on my Macbook [using Photo Booth]. I did a lot of video segments, talking to myself, or I’d get on my phone and talk to myself; this was how I was working through it. I learned about Brené Brown, so I read her book Daring Greatly. It was my personal healing process.
I went home to Atlanta and saw that we had a lot of home videos. And literally, I kid you not, I just picked three random ones. They were not labeled. At that time, I’d learned that you can digitize them, so I'm like, let me just sneak these three and digitize them. I had no idea what was on them.
So I'm working through this project called The Healing Project and reading this book through these video diaries. I'm unpacking, giving myself time to learn about myself. I received these home videos back. It was crazy to see all this footage of moments I had forgotten about, and there was one particular file that had a video of me talking to myself, and I'm watching it and I'm like, "How did she know I needed this right now?"
Mind you, it's 2019; I turned 27 [that year]. The incident happened at 17. I'm seeing this video, and it was probably the most intense divine intervention. It was definitely not of this world—the timing of witnessing and receiving this video, going through this personal healing project, thinking I'm going to do this photo exhibit. That was out the door because I didn't have money, but once I saw that video of myself, I'm like, "Oh, this is it. This is the completion of part one of my healing journey."
I always take self-portraits on my birthday, and I decided I wanted to do a short film. So I had my very close friend help me out and I directed him. As we're shooting, I play the home video on a loop so I can get in that space. When I do my self-portraits, it's usually by myself, so I always play certain music to bring out that authentic emotion. But once I saw the home video, I was like, "Oh, this is a healing project" (I then changed [the name] to 10 Years Later).
But that's how it happened. It was crazy. I did not plan it. 2019 was the first time I’d seen that video since... I think I was 10 in the home video, so I was stunned to see it, but that was the process.
Danielle:
Wow. That is incredible that those three random videos that you happened to pick, one of them had you having that beautiful conversation with yourself. It's so interesting, too, that you continued to do video diaries and self-portraits and that kind of self-examination through media, through video, through photography.
You've always been working with video; was there a particular catalyst that made you interested in film? Cameras in general? I’m curious about how that came about for you.
Noemie:
I have always loved films. I am a first-generation immigrant, and so for me to understand American culture, my siblings and I would watch a lot of TV shows, music, movies, all that. Movies played a huge role for me, and Blockbuster trips. That was a thing. Every Friday I was given two movies I could pick.
I had always wanted to be a director. I think photography entered the space when I was in middle school, but in elementary school, I remember being five years old and being like, "I want to be a director"—which makes sense too, on these old home videos. There was even one home video where I was utilizing an A cam and a B cam, but I didn't even know what that was.
Long story short, it's a video of me falling on my parents' bed. I placed the camera behind me and fell on the bed, and there's another clip where I placed it to the right of me and fell on the bed. I think I was in sixth grade at that time.
That's always been in me, and directing or just movies was actually what spearheaded photography. It's just in my head; I'm like, "Oh, these are still shots of a movie"—which is why I feel like my photos come off a bit cinematic, because that's just how I process it.
[So I used] my parents' camcorder growing up, and then once I got more into photography, I always ensured that I had a camera that also had video capabilities so I could practice filming and capturing and understanding what I want my perspective to be in that way.
Danielle:
Wow, that's so interesting too, that you knew from that young of an age, you were so certain that's what you wanted to do and you kept doing it. I feel like people aren't always encouraged to keep doing the things they were interested in when they were kids. Was your family supportive of your decision to go into the arts? You were saying you used the family camcorder; did they get you cameras when they saw how interested you were?
Noemie:
Yes and no. I think being in a traditional African household, arts isn't really the primary focus. I mean, they obviously understood the importance of having entertainment, but the camcorder was my dad's. He only had it to make sure he was capturing family moments. I did get my first camera in high school, for my birthday, but for my parents it was more "This is for you to do when you don't have homework and there's nothing else to do." Pure entertainment. They never really saw it as a possible career because they hadn't been exposed to people in their circle and network who did that. So to even consider it as a job was not in their understanding.
“You can't really ignore that feeling that your spirit's telling you.”
Danielle:
How did you decide to pursue this career path as opposed to something like being a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer—a career path that's more "stable"?
Noemie:
Honestly, I just couldn't let it go. Funny enough, I wanted to major in graphic design in college, but they only accepted I think 13 people in the program. It was really competitive, and I didn't get in. I was devastated. And because I had already spent a year and a half in college, I'm like, "Well, I can't reapply. That takes too much time." So I decided to go the business route and information systems because I was already familiar with coding. I majored in that, but I was applying to advertising and marketing agencies because I still wanted to be within the creative realm.
I went to the University of Georgia, and they're really big about bringing companies to our campus; you have Deloitte and all these business-y companies that I was just not interested in. But I couldn't ignore [my interest in the arts]. I didn't think I'd be a photographer, though. I knew I would be in the creative industry and I thought it was going to be design primarily, but being a photographer as my main career was not in my head at all. I think I stuck with the perspective that it's a hobby.
But once I started getting paid for it, I felt like, "Oh, this makes sense." And being a photographer for seven years now professionally, I'm like, "Okay, it's time to make the next big leap. I've got an idea of the dynamic and the roles, and I've shot BTS on film sets, TV sets, what have you, so I need to not be scared anymore and do what I've actually wanted to do since I was young." It's just one of those things where you can't really ignore that feeling that your spirit's telling you.
Danielle:
I read an interview that you did with another publication, and it was really interesting; you talk about how you use color and how there's deeper hues in your style. I wouldn't call your work dark necessarily, but there is this richness to it. It's very deeply saturated, and you're working with shadows a lot. Could you talk a little bit more about that—how you use color and why you're drawn to those kinds of deeper hues?
Noemie:
I think that's honestly the main thing that stuck out for me when watching film. I specifically remember watching Reign Over Me with Don Cheadle and Adam Sandler. There were moments that were so vivid to me. Or Man on Fire, movies like that. The colors just stood out. I don't know why, but I've always been drawn to it. I do color grade all my films and short films.
I think color, especially with Black people, stands out so beautifully. When I think of Mother of George, it's just stunning. Or If Beale Street Could Talk, there's a vibrancy to it. It's funny; a long, long, long time ago, a client was interested in working with me, and they saw my work and passed on me, and the feedback was that my photos were too dark. I took such offense to it at the time because I thought they were saying that my photos were sad or depressing, but now I understand what they really mean by that.
Clockwise from left: Film stills from Mother of George, If Beale Street Could Talk, Man on Fire, Reign Over Me
I remember feeling that having "dark" images was a bad thing, but I know what people mean now when they say that; it's just a richness to it. I feel like color does so much to an image, whether that's a motion image or a still image, and there's something very vibrant about it. Even the way I shoot—I wouldn't say this is my secret sauce, but I typically shoot underexposed just because you get more color out of it in post. A lot of my signature looks come from how I edit in post, but I don't know, it's just kind of drawn to me. It does so much for the frame.
So colors are important to me. I know there's psychology about color associations; seeing red in film typically means this, and yellow. To be honest, I tried to apply that perspective in my work, but it just didn't feel authentic. Red can be so many things to me. So, I don't know. I just really love colors.
Another thing [is] music videos. When you look at music videos from the late ’90s—Tweet, "Oh My." Janet Jackson, "I Get Lonely." There's very signature blue, yellow, reddish tones, or even green. It is very RGB-focused, and there's high contrast. It's vibrant, it's sharp. When you think of the movie Belly, there is a very specific type of aesthetic that highlights a saturation that I appreciate.
I think [these] have always stuck with me subconsciously because that's what I watched [for] the majority of my childhood.
Danielle:
Could you talk a little bit more about how music influences your work? That's what I really liked about Blue Sands; there was slight tension there because the music felt so bombastic, and then there was a lot of vulnerability in those images. That's a really interesting contrast. In general, how does music influence your work as a photographer and filmmaker?
Noemie:
That's a great question. Music is crucial for me to the point where I get frustrated because there's so many songs I want to create films with that I know I can't license. It drives me nuts because even [for] 10 Years Later, I technically can't use that song, but it is what it is.
But there's something so emotional about the score. Definitely in middle school, original scores were what I was listening to. Man On Fire was one. Inside Man. Had that score on my iPod. Even in college, I remember I listened to the House of Cards original score. I think it does so much to what we're seeing. I also have my headphones in 99% of the time, so there's always a song playing.
In a way, I create based off of what I'm listening to—which doesn't help me because I get attached to the songs and I probably won't be able to use them. My hope is to find someone to collaborate with and make original music. But I find music to be so emotional, and I appreciate that, so I always find a way to connect the two when I'm creating my work.
“The grey area for me is just that big, uncomfortable, nuanced space that I feel like a lot of us try to avoid.”
Danielle:
In your site bio, you talk about the grey area of life; I was wondering what that means to you, and what it means to you to capture that.
Noemie:
This is something I talk about with my husband all the time. The gray area for me is just that big, uncomfortable, nuanced space that I feel like a lot of us try to avoid. Especially now—this could be controversial; I'm not trying to be, but everybody says they want to be on the right side of something, and everything is about sides. Everything is about, "This is how I feel, and I'm only going to feel this," and I personally feel like humans do not have the capacity to only feel one thing, which is why we tend to resist and face and challenge a lot.
I want us to be more open and accepting to understanding that you can feel multiple things at once. That's what the gray area is for me. I'm a hypocrite. I contradict myself a lot—not actively. I don't do it intentionally, but it does happen. Side note, I am a huge fan of Kendrick Lamar because I think he's one of the few artists who admits to that, where it's like, "I can speak on all these things and I believe them, and they're true to me." For example, for myself, I believe that everyone should have a home. I believe that everyone should eat. Everyone should have clothes that they can change into and have a shower.
And I can't tell you how many times I've walked by unhoused people on the street, and some moments it's because I legit don't have money on me and other moments it's because I don't have the emotional capacity to interact and engage and give my full self. And that's a contradiction of my value, right? Because I value that everyone should have access to finances and funds and what they need, but here I am, walking on the streets of New York, not fulfilling that value. And that is okay. That is my humanity showing up. It's not a defining moment. It's not an identifier.
I think especially with social media, people want to be identified in a specific way because they fear being "canceled." They fear feedback. We haven't created a space for critical thinking. We haven't created a space of what healthy feedback looks like or leaving the room for something that you may not agree with, something that you may feel uncomfortable with, but still allowing space for that.
So I am hoping—not even hoping; with my work, that's kind of its manifesto—right now, I'm leaning toward documentaries because I feel like it's an easy next step, but my long-term goal is narratives, and I want those narratives to speak on that.
When you think of an origin story for a villain, they weren't always evil. There was a reason for that. That's the gray area to me. I'm like, "Oh, this is interesting. You are a murderer now, but based on the story that we saw when you were younger, I understand why you do this." I don't agree with it, but I'm able to sit in the discomfort of understanding why you're in that space now, and I don't have to judge you for it. I don't have to react to it. I don't have to necessarily respond to it, but I'm like, "Oh, okay. This is your story."
I don't know if my photography work really translates to that. If it does, that's amazing. That is always the intention. I know I definitely do that with my self-portraiture work. That's something I am so incredibly passionate about, not even just from an artistic standpoint, but it's important for me to continue being an example of being uncomfortable and accepting both sides.
If we want to draw it full circle with 10 Years Later, to be someone who is in that amount of pain in the mental sense and emotional sense, and how people see me today—I know so many of my friends were shocked about it. They had no idea, but that's kind of my point. There are multiple versions of me that live in one body, and one version comes out on one day, one version is from the past that I'm no longer associated with, but they are all me, and it's my responsibility to hold all of those in me as I carry out.
Danielle:
Everybody's very polarized right now, and I think it's so interesting that you run towards the ambiguity of things as opposed to trying to force things to fit into a neat narrative.
Noemie:
Absolutely.
I am a constant student, so I'm always open to learning. Whoever reads the interview and is looking for assistance in some way, definitely hit me up. My biggest thing is to shadow people and get an understanding of the process of things. I know everyone has their own, and it's okay to trust what my process looks like, but I'm in a space of learning, so any form of exposure helps.
Upcoming Events
Black Harvest Film Festival is still running here in Chicago now through November 21. There’s still plenty of time to catch some special films made by Black filmmakers from across the Diaspora. Come say hi if you see me! And learn more about the festival, which was founded by the late, great Sergio Mims here.
BWD Film Recommendation
Naked Acts (1996) dir: Bridgett M. Davis
I had the pleasure of seeing this film at a screening at the Siskel Film Center in September, which included a Q&A with the director and Maya S. Cade, who helped this film get proper distribution nearly 30 years after its debut.
Naked Acts follows Cece (a fantastic, quicksilver Jake-Ann Jones), an actress who has recently lost 50 lbs and is navigating a contentious relationship with her mother, a former actress who now runs a video store. Cece gets a big break — a starring role in an independent film, albeit with one big caveat: she must appear in a nude scene. These expectations, set forth by her boyfriend (played by the wonderful Ron Cephas Jones, may he rest in peace and power) and the pretentious director of the film, resurfaces Cece’s largely unprocessed childhood trauma and kickstarts a healing journey that comes in fits and starts.
One of the biggest pleasures of this film for me (in addition the exploration of Black women's bodily autonomy and pleasure as well as what it truly means to “make it” as an artist) was seeing the famed photographer Renee Cox play a photographer who helps Cece see herself and her wounds in a different light.
I love stories that center Black women’s friendships and show the many aspects of it — the tenderness, the bluntness, the “Ima keep it real with you and not bullshit you because I love you”-ness of what we offer each other. It’s still so rare to see a movie that centers our friendships in that way and presents it in such a loving way.
Plus, the chemistry between Jake-Ann Jones and the late great Ron Cephas Jones (in which this was his only leading role if I’m not mistaken) was off the charts. This is a gem of a film.