SHORE: An Interview with Kersti Jan Werdal


The first thing you feel is the relief. And then there is sand, warm and steady beneath your feet.  You stand tall on the shore, your mind flooded with gratitude to the writhing sea behind you for the second chance it gave you.

This is the moment from which the name of Fleet Foxes’ fourth studio album, Shore, was born in frontman Robin Pecknold’s mind.  Released exactly — and intentionally — on the autumnal equinox, Pecknold and his bandmates created the album with intentions of brightness, warmth, and comfort.  I first fell in love with Fleet Foxes’ music one summer ago, as the melodious joy that is Helplessness Blues washed over me and out into the blue mountains I traveled through.  So when I realized that their latest musical venture would be paired with a visual companion, I was ecstatic to see the music I have loved for so long brought to life in images.

Clocking in at exactly one hour, the film by Los Angeles-based filmmaker and artist Kersti Jan Werdal features frames of heavenly landscapes and meditative moments with people among nature, shot entirely on 16mm over the course of a four-week journey through the American Pacific Northwest.  I’d already fallen in love with the album itself, and the film was just that much more beautiful, so I knew I wanted to know more about how it became reality — and I was lucky enough to speak with Kersti about her project.


Mariel: The journeys we go through as creatives remain important influences on the art we make throughout our entire lives.  Can you tell us a little bit about your own filmmaking background?

Kersti: I started taking pictures in high school, when I was around 15.  I took an analogue photography class at a local community college and started developing black and white photos.  In my early twenties I still took pictures, but I didn’t really think of it as an art practice until my late twenties.  I realized that this was something I’d evolved in… but I didn’t really think of myself as a photographer yet, ironically.

Then I went to school at Columbia when I was 27. In my final semester there, I decided to make a film for my thesis, which I’d never done before. I took a basic camera kit overseas to Italy and made a short documentary; just me and one lens, one camera, and a tripod. It ended up being around 30 minutes, which I didn’t know was lengthy for a short film at the time. I rented out the Maya Deren theater at Anthology Film Archives to show friends and some artists I liked just for fun, and got a very positive response. It honestly took that reaction to encourage me that this was something I could actually do.

After that I got into CalArts on a grant for an MFA in experimental filmmaking — which was cool, because I realized it’s not just my friends that like my work!

M: So after you finished your MFA, did you have a specific plan when it came to moving ahead in your career, or did things kind of fall into place as you go?

K: I’ve always thought it’s kind of a crapshoot whether I’ll be able to have any kind of a career making my own work, so I figured I’d probably end up making work for other people.  So my backseat goal was always to… cultivate a career that’s not too creatively soul-sucking or depressing, but I didn’t really know how to manifest that. I started getting editing work and found that no matter the project, I ended up liking the challenge. The other projects I’ve been asked to do I’d say I didn’t consciously network, but instead came from people that have known me and followed my work throughout the years. 

M: And that’s kind of the same story for how the film project for Shore was born?

K: I’ve known Robin [Pecknold] since I was 18 or 19, and he very casually told me he was making this album — I had no idea how involved this album was, and when I heard it I was like… this is extremely impressive!  He just wanted to do some visuals, and so that turned into… .me having four and a half weeks from beginning to end to shoot it and develop it and edit it. I definitely could have done a lower-key project, but I think because I was aware that it’s rare to be asked to do something with full creative control, I wanted to do my fantasy project.

M: Did Robin come to you with a visual story in mind already, or did that actually come from you?

K: Robin gave me full creative control, an unusual and rare opportunity for an hour long film. The only prompt he gave me was to shoot nature in the Pacific Northwest, no locations or specifics. It was kind of just serendipitous that I’d been planning to go to the Pacific Northwest with a 16mm camera kit anyway so I extended the trip so I could work on it while there, and he committed to the idea of it being shot on film. I took him along as I went, sending him pictures of people I’d cast or sharing with him any ideas I’d had. He’d occasionally suggest a type of image, which was fun to go and try to make manifest. An example of that was a photo he sent me of a foggy morning over a field. I didn't find this field, but did find a river with fog rising up from the water that's shown during "Young Man’s Game”. Other than that, I was pretty much intuitively shooting, and the film evolved as the trip continued.

M: I wish more clients or employers would do that — allow the creative to have full control — because I’ve heard horror stories from people who had to work with clients who are so controlling or don’t really understand the medium, and the work produced always falls short because it ends up not really being from the soul. 

K: Yeah, it’s totally heartbreaking if you care about your work — and I really do care a lot — so I was fortunate to have his support.  Any pressure I felt was put on myself.  It was a really positive experience and fun to see it come together, and it was probably fun for him to see it evolve too as I sent updates along the way.

M: “Along the way” being both the metaphorical story the album tells and the physical journey required to make the film — can you tell us a bit more about the trip through the PNW that the film documents?  Was it something planned, or did you follow a more intuitive call to different locations?

K: I’d already been planning to visit family in Spokane, but once this project came up I changed my trip to include a stop in Portland, Oregon.  I used to live there, and there’s a small island near Portland that I wanted to shoot on — I didn’t know what I wanted to shoot, I just knew I loved this location.  Like the shot of the girls hanging out in their car — it was very “by chance.” I saw them in the car and talked to them, took their portrait just for myself and thought, “why don’t I just film this scene? It’s so cinematic.” So that happened very organically, kind of documentary-style.

Sometimes when I already knew who I wanted to film — for example, my friend’s little brother — I just found locations for that specific character.  With him, I was able to film two scenes in one day: one of him just eating blackberries, and the other a long single take of a road I’d found nearby. 

But most of the scenes, I really only had locations in my head, and figured out who would best fit each moment after I put the vignette of the narrative on top of everything.  They were all Pacific Northwest locals: non-actors. 

M: And even working with people who aren’t actors or models, I was impressed that you were still able to capture these intimate and honest moments of them, since most people who aren’t used to being in front of the camera can get uncomfortable and freeze up. How did you make that situation feel more natural for them?

K: Everyone I worked with had varying levels of feeling confident in front of the lense, so I had to work with that… There’s always certain tricks you can do so their attention isn’t drawn to the fact that they’re being recorded — like start rolling without saying “action,” or having your camera far enough away that it can be forgotten.  But I have found that with non-actors especially, the one that’s more extroverted as a personality isn’t quite as great on camera, and that’s held true for me across the board, especially when it comes to younger subjects. Lily, who was the girl in the woods... in person, she’s soft spoken and not one to draw attention toward herself - a very humble spirit. On camera, her features come across really strong and I find a lot of depth in her. I knew from experience that she’s really expressive with her hands, so I was just filming her sitting in the tree and twirling the leaves around with her fingers in a really specific way. 

M: I remember watching that scene and wondering if that was just something she was doing naturally, absentmindedly, or if it were something planned.

K: Yeah, and that’s where casting the right people comes in. She’s an artist, so she draws and paints, and maybe that’s part of that connection there to why you can see so much just from the unconscious movement of her hands. There is always an element of luck with filming in such a short period of time.

M: So that project timeline was a bit unusual, too. It’s not uncommon to wait months until other people can see your work published.

K: Yeah, we finished it one week before release, which was cool.  But it was pretty overwhelming. I’m not used to that many people seeing my work and, you know, you feel kind of safe in your little bubble. But yeah, it felt good that everyone seemed to like it. 

M: What was one of your favorite moments on the trip or during shooting?

K: Probably the most special moment in my memory… The wheat fields, which I feel like are the most epic-looking. I’d been wanting to shoot at that location for so long, and I eventually want to make a documentary there. I think the topography of the area is really cool; it was formed in the same way as sand dunes but farmers moved in and planted wheat. I’d driven through it before when it was bright green and springtime, but I hadn’t seen it golden yet. I went there for three nights with my boyfriend, and just being able to film it and show him this part of the world that he’d never seen before was so beautiful and really, really special. The whole project felt kind of like… a discovery.

M: So is it safe to say the wheat field sequence is your favorite in the film?

K: Actually, I wouldn’t say so. They’re beautiful, but they’re a little bit more derivative of something — they look like images I’ve seen before. I think that it’s probably the shot of my boyfriend, Robbie, reading in the woods — the way the light looked, and how the grass was so green against the trees that looked so dark, almost black. There was something in the air — probably pollen — that looked like a golden haze and came out so incredible on film. It’s so hard to choose! Also Lily in the woods... just having a person in that rainforest setting feels so surreal. I definitely like inserting a person into those settings that don’t feel quite real — there’s a strangeness to it.

M: A big part of Sunstroke’s readership are young creatives — do you have any advice, whether it be general or specific, that you could share with them?

K: I definitely think that no matter what, try your best not to compare yourself to anyone else. I think it’s easy to do in the age of social media, but it’s toxic to your creative practice. There is a beautiful side of social media where you can feel less alone seeing people doing what you do, but try not to spend too much time thinking about how this person is doing x-amount more work than you, or getting more accolades. If you feel fulfilled within the work, that’s really the important part — and you can decide what success looks like for yourself later. Also, don’t be afraid to make bad work! Often early work in an artist’s career is great, but I don’t believe it's that common to just magically make good work right off the bat, you have to evolve; try to be a bit fearless because you learn so much through your failures. And lastly, honor your influences. I think it’s good to remember that nothing is made in a vacuum and that we’re all looking at similar things, and what comes from it might echo a work made by a peer. We should try to focus on that as a beautiful thing, but still be really honest about it. The belief that we always “own ideas” creates this competitive arena that can be a bummer sometimes. I always try to think about what can expand my creativity rather than narrow it, and feel these things encourage that.

M: What kind of dream projects of yours might we look forward to from you in the future?

K: I want to shoot a feature in Sicily. I lived there for a while and speak conversational Italian, so I already have locations in mind, and loose ideas for a story. I love this one area on the east side of the island that’s not touristy. It’d be cool to do it as a blend of documentary and narrative — of course depending on the funding to permit enough time to street-cast. It’s such a fantasy of mine to make a work capturing real moments of Sicilian life. I was very inspired by the people when I lived there. I’d prefer to street cast, because when you work with actors, you can ask them to do the same scene ten times and you’re going to get a similar result each time. But a normal person would do it entirely different each time, and I ​love​ that. I’m like, “do that however it feels good to you!” and the result is genuine.


As we wander from equinox to solstice, I think that the deepest theme found within the images and music of Shore are ones we should cherish dearly: to let your present location guide your story; that there are deeper stories to be found in quiet, modest places; and that although this year has been hard for many, we must remember that it is only a small moment in the greater journey ahead.

You can find more of Kersti’s work on her website and Vimeo. Keep up with her latest on Instagram.