Miguel Pérez Cuesta: Cathedrals of Light.
Skene Staff
Lighting designer Miguel Pérez Cuesta reflects on the silent artistry of light and its power to move audiences through emotion.
Lighting designer Miguel Pérez Cuesta reflects on the silent artistry of light and its power to move audiences through emotion.
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Filmmaker, performer, and multidisciplinary artist Edrian Pangilinan has built a creative universe shaped by memory, queerness, and the quiet courage of becoming. Born in Mandaluyong City, Philippines and now based in Los Angeles, Edrian’s work, spanning dance, music, and film, captures the intimate spaces between what’s said and what’s felt. His short films Hey Man, Flight, Uhaw, and Ang Huling Sayaw unfold like love letters to growth and vulnerability, tracing a personal evolution that continues through his upcoming project Colorette.
Through tender storytelling and fearless honesty, Edrian transforms his own experiences of family, longing, and identity into deeply human narratives that invite empathy and connection. His artistry, equal parts introspection and resilience, celebrates community and the enduring act of creation as healing.
In this edition of NEW TALENTS, Edrian Pangilinan reflects on the stories that shaped him—and the ones he’s still learning to tell.
hi, my name is edrian pangilinan, and first off, thank you so much for having me and for giving me this space to share my journey as an artist, especially now as i step into this next chapter of my life and artistry. i also want to give a big thank you to elba emicente for nominating me — thank you, girl, i appreciate you so much.
honestly, questions like this always make me pause. i’m 33 now, and sometimes i can’t believe how much life i’ve already lived. i think my journey really started back in mandaluyong city in the philippines, where i was born. i remember taking this tiny arts class inside a bookstore and feeling so proud of myself — that was probably the first time i realized how much i loved creating.
from there, art just kept finding me — through singing, playing the violin, dancing, and now through film. that spark i felt as a kid never really left. it just grew up with me. it’s still that same fire that reminds me why i do what i do — to feel, to create, to keep telling stories that matter.
that’s such a good question. honestly, it’s hard to choose because each of my works feels autobiographical, capturing different versions of who i was at the time — uhaw, ang huling sayaw, and now my upcoming short colorette all hold pieces of my growth, my queerness, and my becoming.
but if i had to choose, i’d say flight (2018). it’s a project that came together in just one week as part of the campus movie fest during my final semester of my bfa. i remember wanting to hold on to those last fleeting moments of college — the long nights, the friendships, the creative spark that made me feel unstoppable.
flight was my love letter to that time. quiet, tender, and intimate, told between just two people, it was my first follow-up queer short after hey man. i wanted to make something simpler yet more honest — and somehow, it still resonates.
to this day, flight has reached over 160k views on youtube, a reminder that when you create from truth and sincerity, it finds its way to the hearts that need it most.
this is something i don’t often open up about, but it’s been a thread that runs through a lot of my work — my complicated relationship with my parents, especially my dad. people sometimes brush it off as “typical asian family dynamics,” but that doesn’t make it any easier. it’s something that has shaped me deeply, especially when it comes to how i see myself and my worth.
as someone who’s always taken pride in being a family person, navigating a complicated one has been one of the hardest parts of my life. but in many ways, it’s also what’s made me an artist. it’s pushed me to create work that’s fierce, bold, and honest — stories that reach people beyond culture, stories that feel human.
films like uhaw, ang huling sayaw, and now colorette all reflect that struggle and the healing that follows. for a long time, this part of my life broke me. but looking back, i know it also made me empathetic, relentless, and sincere in my storytelling. because of it, i now know that this is what i’m meant to do — tell stories for the rest of my life.
ironically, from the last question, my biggest inspiration really comes from my need to express myself through my work. filmmaking has always been my language, a way for me to translate what i can’t always say out loud. i create from the quiet intersections of queerness, longing, and memory. my films often come from the spaces between what’s said and what’s felt — the moments of heartbreak, silence, and searching that have shaped me into who i am.
i’m inspired by my own becoming, by the boy who grew up in mandaluyong city, by the young adult who tried to find his place in san diego, and by the artist who’s still learning how to stand on his own in los angeles. all of those versions of me live inside my work.
and honestly, i’m also inspired by the community that continues to show up — the dreamers, the outsiders, the ones who keep creating even when it hurts. my films are for them, and for me.
in the end, i create to remember, to heal, and to hope.
first of all, merry christmas! i hope you’re surrounded by love and warmth this holiday season.
for me, my work has always been unintentionally autobiographical. they say to write what you know, and that’s where i always begin. i create from what i’ve lived through — the heartbreaks, the resilience, the quiet moments of healing and becoming. when i tell stories, it’s not just for me, it’s for anyone who’s ever needed a reminder that they can keep going, that they can grow and become the version of themselves they’ve always dreamed of being.
through every project, i try to offer a sense of hope and reflection, a glimpse of what it means to still believe even when life feels heavy. my greatest wish is for my work to connect with people — even if it’s just one person — in a way that makes them feel seen, understood, and less alone. that, to me, is already enough.
and yeah, i’m recognizing that i’m getting closer to my legacy years, if not already in them. i just want to keep doing the work that makes me happy, to be part of telling stories that matter, and ones that truly need to be told.
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One Response
Thank you so much for having me share my heartfelt sorry and journey with yall!