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Written with intelligent humor, a fine style, a clear structure, brisk narration, and full of details, it breaks some molds of the genre—not only in what it reveals about the young Cortázar and his family, but also through Eduardo Montes-Bradley’s informal, demystifying, and warm tone.

When the Bristows came to Brooklyn, not in pursuit of riches but perhaps something far more elusive: opportunity.

Artificial intelligence, used responsibly, becomes not a shortcut but a legitimate creative tool. And there is historical precedent for this kind of intervention.

Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, New York, isn't just a final resting place; it's a sprawling outdoor museum, a testament to lives lived, and a repository of history. This video offers an extraordinarily rare and personal glimpse into its depths, guided by Alice Cooney Frelinghuysen, the Anthony W. and Lulu C. Wang Curator of American Decorative Arts at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I want to take a moment to shine a spotlight on the incredible work of my talented friend, Eduardo Galliani, particularly his contributions to the world of Book Arts and Publishing through Antares Portfolio.

Documentaries can serve as cinematic expressions that explore social practices, traditions, and the shared experiences of specific groups.

What happened next remains uncertain. One version says that relatives and their daughters dug their graves before getting shot—buried in a mass grave still waiting to be discovered. Another account suggests they were deported to Treblinka and never returned. Either way, this photograph is the last image of the great-aunts I never had the chance to meet.

Last night’s tribute was more than fitting. It was a reminder that the arts don’t flourish without stewards—those who believe, quietly and persistently, in the transformative power of culture and community. Joe Erdman is one of them. And we’re all the better for it.

More than 80 years after arriving in Argentina, a collection of Nazi propaganda materials has been uncovered in a surprising and deeply symbolic location: the archives of the country’s Supreme Court.

El Eternauta signals something new for Argentine cinema. For the first time, we are seeing a production that stands on its own without imitating the tropes of international (especially American) storytelling. It’s not about achieving universality through abstraction—it’s about being unapologetically Argentine, and in doing so, achieving something truly universal.

We have taken an important resolution: to progressively embrace the iPhone as a tool for documentary filmmaking. This decision is the natural evolution of a journey that began decades ago — a journey rooted in the need and choice to adapt to technology, while always keeping subject and story at the heart of it all.

Soon, we’ll begin training an Ai model with those characteristics in mind. In the meantime, I’m absorbing Bristow’s music, reading the scores, and listening with care — trying to get under the skin of a man who dared to compose in an era that didn’t yet know how to listen. And above all, hearing from you, the reader who will comment on this post with opinions and ideas as to How did Mr. Bristow may have sounded like?

My primary medium for decades has been documentary film. That’s where I’ve told most of my stories, behind moving images, sound, and a carefully constructed edit. But recently, I’ve returned—almost instinctively—to still photography. Not digital, but analog: 35mm film, the kind I experimented with in a parallel universe during the late 1970s and early ’80s, when I was just beginning to find my way into filmmaking.

For the last two months, I’ve been returning to analog photography. Not for interviews or narrative-heavy sequences (that would be impractical), but for transitions, establishing shots, and the poetic moments that so often pair well with the precision of the FX3.

We remain open to ideas and proposals that align with the goals and values of our mission. Each potential project is considered with care—me

My grandfather had sent for them. There was a steamship waiting. But it was a race against time, and the girls lost.

Lectures, screenings, and workshops on documentary production and ethics, and the art of visual storytelling across cultures and formats.

It all began, fittingly, in Brooklyn. First, my trusty old Bolex jammed. Frustrated, I took a moment, and that’s when I stumbled upon an Edi

Eduardo recently shared with me a nearly-complete version of The Piccirilli Factor.  It is extraordinary. 

Seeing this film was also a stark reminder of how few documentaries there are on skilled craftspeople and artists and more importantly, few