How Kitalé Wilson found the light

How did you come to choose Richard Sandler as a subject?

Like most stories, it was a wonderful mixture of fateful alignment and story selection. I met Richard on a rainy night in Vancouver almost a half year before we ever started rolling. I had just watched a screening of Gods of Time Square at The Cinematheque, and suddenly this man with precariously perched glasses and a slouched beret came onto the stage. Richard spoke with a firm concentration about the weight art holds in our modern world.

I reached out and asked him for coffee. He replied with a place and time - nothing more. We met and immediately clicked. I helped him move into his flat - box after box of contact sheets - and shortly after began working for him as an editor. Slowly, I began to approach the idea of making a film that explored his work and his life.

Street photography is an art form that takes something so passable and mundane - a sidewalk, a corner, an alleyway - and eternalises that moment.

For documentary filmmakers, these periods of admiring a story from a distance are precious. It's less about fully understanding what is in front of you than developing the core idea you hope to explore.

How do you feel about Sandler's idea that he's a “conduit” to the images; as if the photographs he took had a life of their own and he enabled them to come into being?

Street photography is a distinct medium. It's an art form that takes something so passable and mundane - a sidewalk, a corner, an alleyway - and eternalises that moment. The good ones can set us on fire with a single image. It's like being given a new pair of eyes…

I think it speaks to the story of any city. Every place has two faces, and Sandler was comfortable looking closely at both.

I love Richard's use of the word "conduit". I think it speaks to the real journey of an artist. Life unfolds all around us with a ceaseless rhythm, and we act as channels for it rather than merely its authors. 

I often think about the films that have truly changed me. Yes, there are beautiful frames and unforgettable scenes, but their real impact comes from the life flowing through them.

What do you think his work says about New York City?

I think it speaks to the story of any city. Every place has two faces, and Sandler was comfortable looking closely at both. In his imagery I see life, comedy, theatre, opulence and decay. It's that final one I find the most remarkable - not because he romanticises it, but because he finds humanity within it.

Seeing art as a more meditative practice fundamentally shifted how I think about filmmaking.

At a time of social upheaval and unrest, his photographs offer carefully composed glimpses of the world as it was, without ever feeling detached from it. New York City happened to be the place Sandler chose to photograph, but the essence of his work reaches far beyond just those streets. The reason his work has had such an impact is this applicability; the humanity, contradictions and fleeting moments he captured belong to every city.

Sandler poses profound philosophical questions. What have you learnt about life, and art, from making the film?

Sandler is a profoundly thoughtful person. I think that's simply who he is, though I can't help but wonder how decades of street photography have shaped that perspective. You go out onto the street day after day, year after year, exposed to the full spectrum of life a city has to offer. It's bound to leave you thinking about the nature of things.

On a more personal level, I felt changed after we wrapped the project. Being able to observe and work alongside an elder artist puts things into perspective. Sandler describes his process in the film: "The cyclone is going, your mind is going and you keep bringing your mind back to the breath…". 

Seeing an artist so deeply devoted to analogue makes you confront the reality that much of our creative work now exists as ones and zeros - "digital dust", as Sandler would call it.

Seeing art as a more meditative practice fundamentally shifted how I think about filmmaking. It's easy to become consumed by the production - cameras, lighting, shot lists and logistics - but these philosophies reminded me that the most important part is simply being present in a moment - to notice. That's something I've carried with me ever since.

What does the film say about being an analogue artist in a digital world?

I remember standing in Sandler's apartment, boxes of contact sheets and negatives piled to the ceiling. You begin to understand the importance of physicality in art. As filmmakers, we've transitioned to digital in almost every aspect of our work. It offers incredible freedom and has transformed what we're able to capture - that’s not lost on me. Even the darkroom scenes in the film couldn't have been shot without a modern digital sensor capable of working cleanly at high ISOs.

Yet at the same time, seeing an artist so deeply devoted to analogue makes you confront the reality that much of our creative work now exists as ones and zeros - "digital dust", as Sandler would call it. 

Even in the forgotten corners of a city, there is light. His photographs never deny hardship or decay, but they always search for humanity within them.

I never wanted to frame Richard as the last analogue holdout in a digital age - that story has been told countless times. Instead, I wanted to explore the craft, memory and freedom his approach offers. He has chosen to work with analogue, to compose in black and white, and to remain rooted in the physical. I think that's something many artists are quietly craving at the moment.

Above: Some stills from Even in Darkness.

Can you explain the title Even in Darkness?

The title is really the first half of an unspoken sentence: Even in darkness, there is light. It grew out of the idea of light passing through a lens onto celluloid, reacting with microscopic silver crystals to form a ‘latent image’. In a sense, a latent image is stored light - invisible until the right chemistry and timing reveal it as a photograph. But in another sense, the title reflects Sandler's work. Even in the forgotten corners of a city, there is light. His photographs never deny hardship or decay, but they always search for humanity within them. That's the light he chose to capture.

Can you share details of the shoot? Did any unexpected challenges arise?

Though principal photography took place over less than a week, the interview and story development phase was extensive.. For months, I'd meet Richard a couple of times a week. We'd work together - curating his next body of work and editing his films - then he'd make coffee, I'd swing a microphone in, and we'd record a brief interview. Over time, those conversations grew into hours of audio that became the foundation of the film. 

I think that unconventional beginning gave me the confidence to make films on my own terms. 

Richard also set some clear boundaries. He didn't want to be filmed photographing on the street - for him, that was a private, almost sacred space. Respecting that meant finding other ways to evoke the experience. Visually, we also wanted to keep everything as unobtrusive as possible. Richard's own practice is so minimal that arriving with large lighting setups would have felt completely at odds with his world. I was fortunate to work with cinematographer John Fleming, who suggested using shattered mirrors to bounce natural light into the rooms. It let us keep the crew and equipment to a minimum while giving the interiors a subtle, photographic quality through these fragmented hits of light.

What's your background and route into directing? 

A winding path. I was raised in a small town on the east coast of Australia and never really saw myself as a creative kid. But there were early sources of inspiration. My father was an avid charcoal artist - completely obsessed with form and light - while my mother worked as a somatic therapist, immersed in a world of emotion and feeling. Some of my earliest memories are of enormous family dinners. I'd sit wide-eyed as each person held the room, telling an anecdote or carefully crafted story. 

This project reminded me of the importance of presence. The best stories often reveal themselves slowly - but they want to be found. 

I came to directing through a deep admiration for storytelling. I became fascinated by film as a mode of narrative. After dropping out of university, I lived in my car for almost two years, writing and slowly teaching myself the craft. Since then, I've had the privilege of studying at AFTRS, Sundance Institute and IDFA Academy. 

I think that unconventional beginning gave me the confidence to make films on my own terms. I've also been incredibly fortunate to be guided by remarkable mentors and collaborators along the way.