Meet Ursula — a documentary filmmaker and mother based in West Tāmaki Makaurau. Her storytelling delves into themes of identity, resilience, and community, evident in works like Still Here and Gangsters in Paradise. Beyond the lens, Ursula finds joy in stained glass artistry, beach walks, and the warmth of family life. Her days are a blend of creative endeavours and nurturing her three children, embodying a life rich in purpose and connection.
Starting with work, specifically with Marlon Williams: Two Ngā Ao e Rua Two Worlds. A four-year project is no small thing—what does it feel like to release something you’ve lived inside for so long?
Yea I mean it’s cliche but really nervous and also really proud (and quite emotional). The word release is pretty symbolic it seems. I’ve been holding on to the things that aren’t captured on screen lately. The moments where the camera wasn’t rolling and how much I learned from each of my incredible co-workers and our participants. Knowing what’s been left outside the frame gives me the confidence to release the film into the world and let people respond however they will, because I hold an understanding of what it has meant to me and to those who’ve been close to the project. We know what and who it stands for and that’s all that matters really.
And did you know, from the beginning, that it would take this kind of time and emotional investment?
So, I read that on average a feature film takes between 3-7 years depending on how funding and development goes. And theoretically I was prepared, but like anything lived in, it always catches you by surprise when you’re the one at the helm. I guess I was prepared for the logistical commitment, you know attaching a producer, applying for funding, getting distributors interested, securing our participants, production, post-production, online etc. but I wasn’t prepared for the emotional crash when I finished. I actually remember Marlon telling me that he gets blue after releasing as it’s the death of a perfect idea, in some ways I think it’s that but I’m mourning the regularity of hanging out with this community who lives a plane ride away. I had my last drink at Civil and Naval for a while last night. That was hard to reckon with for sure.
Your work often sits right on the edge of discomfort—in the best way. You’ve taken us into the realities of sex work, deportation, street life. What pulls you toward stories that others might turn away from?
My parents instilled a sense of protest in me, as well as my friends as we grew older. To stand up when things aren’t right, even when it’s uncomfortable is something which has been woven into my upbringing. They were also generous with their time and with people on the fringes of society. Dad and I were always picking up hitch hikers in our van that wouldn’t start properly, or inviting unique and wonderful characters into our lives for a music jam or cuppa. Mum was always hustling for my sister and I, putting food on the table and embedding a strong sense of feminism just by being a solo mum.
Documentary to me is the line between protest and art. In my opinion art is rather boring without it saying something deeper.
So I guess my colourful background is probably why I don’t shy away from telling vulnerable stories. It just seems normal to have made the films I have.
Is there a moment, or person, in the making of one of those films that still sits with you?
They all sit with me in different ways. With a feature film you spend many years alongside someone and their community. Whereas with some of the shorter pieces, unfortunately, I’ve only been able to spend a few weeks with the participants.
There is one character I used to think about a lot. I won’t mention names for privacy reasons but he was speaking about his situation off record and said “It’s like running uphill on loose grave, no matter how hard you push, the ground gives way beneath you." This is such a visual analogy, I couldn’t shake it for a long time.
Changing tac of course Marlon and his community will always sit with me as my first feature film, this one has left its mark on me forever, it’s been really special.
In your work, there’s always a balance between the raw and the poetic. How do you hold that tension—between telling the truth, and crafting something cinematic?
Thank you for saying that! To be honest it's with a lot of pre-production vision boards often with my long term friend and collaborator Tim Flower. We set very clear rules, though we do occasionally break them, haha, but the vision between the cinematographer and director needs to be incredibly strong and aligned. That’s especially true in documentaries, where we’re often working on the fly, aiming to be unobtrusive, fly-on-the-wall observers.
The visions change film to film as you have to build a world around someone who is real and your artform is playing within their world. So ensuring that vision fits with those you’re documenting is very important.
I’ll often go through footage at the end of each shoot day and refer it back to our visual guides to see how we are tracking. But, the physical form of film to me is as important as crafting the story. It adds so much to the context, the themes and the world building. When it all comes together it’s when an audience will feel things without knowing why. That’s the sweet spot! And that’s the embellished moments, where the truth is there but it’s just enhanced by sounds and visuals.
A lot of your films feel deeply rooted in Aotearoa, but never in a surface-level way. What do you think makes a story feel like it belongs to us?
Paying respect to our landscapes and listening not just with our ears. These places are the homes where stories live. So looking and listening around those who you’re documenting is all part of the whimsical fun for me.
Landscapes are always characters within my films, they are the context. Cool that you picked that up!
You’ve collaborated with some powerful voices—Marlon among them. What does a good creative partnership look like to you?
One where there is reciprocity and mutual respect. When you can talk about the hard topics as well as the easy ones. Authenticity and being able to make mistakes and say sorry. And having a LOL that’s crucial with all my creative relationships.
And what’s your approach to telling someone else’s story, especially across cultural lines?
Listening to every detail of their world and respecting it. Having good support to ensure you’re not making any unnecessary mistakes. And asking for advice when you need it, rather than assuming you know best, often that is not the case.
What is the most significant lesson you've learned through one of your films—whether from a person involved, a theme explored, or a societal issue addressed?
Lived experience is worth listening to more than theories surrounding an issue. Lost Boys of Taranaki was a great example of that. All the data in the world couldn’t prepare me for talking with those who needed us to listen. So often youth are treated as an irrelevant voice in the room and in my opinion it usually leads to bad ideas from detached adults like Boot Camps to ‘solve’ the problem. So yeah, value lived experience.
Has motherhood changed your relationship to your work?
Motherhood changes everything. It is the one thing in my life that has changed the head on my shoulders entirely. Your ‘no’ becomes so defined as you have a finite amount of time to place on anything that isn't ya know lunch boxes and story time. And everything I say yes to distracts me from, in my view, my most important role—being a mum. I adore being a mum. I've been doing it since my early twenties, my children have been concurrent with study, building a career, building a house, travel, building a life. I don’t know what work is without motherhood.
Do you find yourself seeing different things—or wanting different things—than you did before?
Like I say, I’ve been mothering since I was 21-years-old. By being a mum it helped prioritise where I’d place my attention and I’m so grateful to my children for that.
There’s a version of this industry that demands relentlessness. How do you manage the in-between moments—when you’re not directing, not producing, just… showing up as a mum, or a human?
It’s mixed. I try to really revel in the fact that I don’t have to split myself in half everyday. And I really do sink into trad wife vibes where I organise my kids drawers, and take the time to show up to everything my kids are involved with. Cook lots, walk with my friends, go out to dinner with my partner, I write and draw, I have a great vege garden for 5 minutes again and prioritise those green smoothies. But I’m always slightly relieved when work starts flowing again, not because I don’t love all those things, but because it feels like I am the most me when I’m both raising a family as well as fulfilling my own creativity too.
Are there things you’ve learned to let go of?
Having to show up for everything all the time. It’s just not possible.
Do you have a creative community around you—especially other mothers or women in film? Or has that been something you’ve had to seek out or build for yourself?
Oh yes, Lucy McLay, my darling sister and Emmy nominated wardrobe designer and just all round vibe creator. Raukura Turei, the artist, architect (there’s nothing she can’t do wtf) is a really old friend of mine, we were neighbours from when we were 3-4-years old. Zoe Black who is the deputy director of Object Space, we go back to our early twenties, she’s been instrumental to my career and is so encouraging of those in the arts. The sweetheart Greta Van Der Star, who is an extraordinary photographer and inspiring human being. Hannah Broatch, my oldest friend and co-pilot to Klay, we don’t spend enough time together but the love is always there. Charlotte Penman and Jasmin Sparrow, both jewellers and world builders. Kate from Penny Sage I see intermittently as I love her clothing and vision so much. And then many other incredible women who I see as very creative but don’t make a living from creativity. Cherry Curtis, my step-sister, potter and foodie, who is also a nurse and saves peoples lives! Liv McGreggor, founder of mamas brew shop and herbal tincture lover. My West Coast mums who are teachers, athletes, property people who I love to pieces, they really are my day-to-day biggest support network. The list goes on and on, I'm not short on good company of capable creative muses’.
What does support look like for you these days?
Community. We’ve built these strange isolated places we call homes where one or two people have to do it all. I’m so lucky to have a community that shows up for me, picks up the pieces when I fail and I’m ready to do it whenever they need me too. And whānau, my dad in my later years has been fundamental in my career. He always wanted more kids so having his grandkids often has made us very close as he helps me out so much on a weekly basis. But in return he has such an amazing relationship with our children. And Jack’s parents too, they live next door and weave in and out of our fale.
Looking ahead, are there stories tugging at your sleeve? The ones you haven’t told yet but can feel building?
Yes! They are in late development and or production… I can’t say anything more but they have similar themes which have been built upon since I first started making films. Music, dance, animals and motherhood are themes behind the ones aforementioned.
And what kind of storyteller do you hope to be ten years from now?
One that still listens as intently. One that doesn’t get comfortable in what she knows. One that still can see the beauty and lolz in the world. One that fosters the next generation of storytellers.
Final question—if you could only make one more film, and it had to say everything you believe about people, place, and story—what would it be?
Or maybe… who would it be about?
Hmm maybe it would be an ethereal play within a play documentary akin to The Act of Killing. Some strange phenomenon that kick started a revolution either internally or externally.
Or just 90 minutes of Adam Driver haha, kidding. That question is too hard, I always want to make films and it makes me panic the thought of not doing it xxx