When we met Nacho, he felt lost. He was a surfacing artist in Vancouver with a full-time job and a heavy freelance schedule. Even though he was making money while the rest of the industry was getting laid off, he didn't have an emotional connection to his work.
He had just returned to Vancouver from his home country, Costa Rica. He was full of creativity and ambition, but he felt overwhelmed by the visions he wanted to bring to life. He felt a heavy obligation to be grateful for his job and to stay "realistic," even though he felt like every day, he was selling a little bit more of his creative soul.
Nacho and I met on the beach in Vancouver. During a long walk along the seawall and through Stanley Park, we discussed art, life, and our careers. Mainly, we talked at length about the impact of bravery on our lives as artists.
Nacho had so many great ideas, but the clock was fixed. His commitments were already overwhelming. He wanted to move from animation into VFX for film. He dreamed of starting surfacing workshops at an art cafe for local CG artists. He was navigating the immigration process and managing investments for his financial stability.
On top of all that, he is a very talented musician. He had been working on a progressive rock EP for years. While he chipped away at it in his headphones, uncompleted songs silently piled up. They were fighting to be heard, but they were never released. His time was rapidly getting eaten away, hour by hour, as he did what he thought he had to do, instead of what brings him life.
I've been in exactly the same position before. A lot of us have.
All of these circumstances, combined with a restricted mindset, turned into a brewing sense of desperation. Frantic energy bled into his introductions, emails and interviews. People did not see him for the creative juggernaut he is, because he was not being brave enough to show them. This led to being ghosted again and again. It kept him in a loop of feeling like he should just be grateful for what he had. He needed to honor his creative muse, and deal with the consequences, good or bad. We asked:
What can you do that will make all other things easier or unnecessary?
I insisted that the bravest, highest leverage thing he could do was finish his EP. That's right:
The most important thing Nacho could do for his film career was to pick up the guitar and finish his music.
The songs were taking up too much of his creative and mental space. The unfinished work left him drained. He needed to recharge by being true to his inspiration. He had to be honest with himself, set better boundaries with his studio and clients, and carve out time to lead his own life again. He needed to finish the music and let it go, so he was available for the next opportunity.
You can't be open to opportunities when you're hands are full. If you hold too tightly onto a project that stays hidden on your hard drive, nothing else can get in. You have to let go of one thing, so your hand is free to take on the next.
You can give it up, or you can release it.
We both realized the music was too important for him to give up. He had to finish and release it. His music was the first domino, but it already had huge implications. The shift was visible. He became calmer and more confident. After every song was finished, a career milestone followed. A promotion, a raise, more interviews, and then, a feature film offer. Like clockwork, every track he released freed up part of his soul.
Instead of hiding, he was publishing, and people could feel the difference in his energy.
Strong.
Confident.
Brave.
They wanted to be around that type of energy.
In order to help Nacho lead himself, we spent many coaching sessions refining his approach to the 3D industry. We worked on how he wrote emails, how he prepared for interviews, and how to focus on what matters, instead of trying to solve problems that may not arise.
He stopped pleading for opportunities and started putting himself forward as the ideal candidate. Having completed his own personal projects (his music), he felt bulletproof when meeting new people. He began to see industry legends as peers because of the creative output he was achieving at home.
In interviews, he had more personal things to connect with the interviewers, he wasn't shy about his projects, he was proud of them.
Step by step, Nacho worked toward achieving his original goal of accepting his first VFX job for a feature film.
He is now in Vancouver working on LAIKA’s next animated movie, Wildwood.
He is finally part of a team and community that recognizes his artistic power.
We always knew what he was capable of, but it is a tremendous joy to see that he now knows and lives it, with the world reflecting his capacity back to him, in the form of contracts, projects, and deeper opportunities.
The most beautiful part is: this is only the beginning.
Nacho is a tsunami of creative power, and he's stopped holding it back.
If you've read this far, I want you to answer this question:
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