Valeria
Identity, illness, and the silent pressures of an image-driven world.
Directed by Genís Baró Gandia
words by Katie Huelin
At just 19, director Genís Baró Gandia is already carving out a distinctive voice, one that lingers in textures, silences, and the unseen weight of human experience. His latest short film, Valeria, takes its name from an 18-year-old model whose story he encountered during a photo shoot. Within the glossy realm of fashion, this film captures something far more intimate: a portrait of a young woman navigating family illness, isolation, and the quiet pressures of an image-driven industry.
With a visual language that “undresses” itself layer by layer, moving from polished frames to close, tactile studies of skin, water, and fragility, Gandia portrays Valeria’s journey of vulnerability and resilience.
In our conversation, Gandia reflects on approaching sensitive subjects with honesty, the challenge of working with a stand-in actress to embody lived experience, and the intuitive, image-driven collaboration that shaped this evocative film.
Working with Valeria’s story means touching on very personal and difficult subjects, body image, isolation, and family illness. How did you navigate that sensitivity in your process, and what responsibilities do you feel as a director when telling stories that resonate with so many people facing similar struggles?
I approached Valeria’s story the same way I deal with personal subjects in my own videos: with honesty. I once heard that you can never truly speak for others; in the end, you always speak about yourself. In this film, I told Valeria’s story, but even more so, I shared what resonated most deeply with me. Of course, the video touches on difficult themes, but when you approach them with honesty and sensitivity, there’s nothing to hide.
I don’t tend to overthink “responsibility” when I tell stories. I believe people sometimes worry too much about that. My responsibility is to create the best piece of art I can, not to control the subjects themselves. I told the story as I felt it when Valeria told it to me, focusing on the inner struggles and emotions above all else.
Since Valeria herself was in Vietnam during filming, you chose to work with another model to embody her experience. What was it like directing a stand-in for such a personal narrative, and how did you ensure the emotions still felt authentic?
I always say casting is one of the most important parts of any video, especially in one like this, where everything rests on a single person. Claudia, who played Valeria, was incredible to work with. She has a real talent for subtle gestures and expressions. I didn’t give her too much direction, because in a project like this—with no dialogue or defined actions—forcing expression can feel artificial. She knew Valeria’s story, but I let her interpret it freely, only guiding her with small details like where to look.
The shoot felt very natural and intuitive. We were a small team, and Claudia is a friend of Aitor (our cinematographer), so the atmosphere on set was relaxed and collaborative. I think the hardest thing in cinema, especially in close-ups, is not to overact. If I had asked her, “show me sadness,” she might have forced it, and the camera would have caught that artificiality. Instead, she kept it subtle and authentic, and I’m very grateful for that.
Although Claudia was perfect for this film, I have in mind to work on a special piece with Valeria in the future when she’s back in Barcelona.
“From the start, we knew we wanted a fashion-film aesthetic for much of the piece, contrasted with a more intimate, black-and-white section where the body feels exposed and fragile.”
The film feels as though it “undresses” itself, layer by layer, moving from polished images to close, almost vulnerable studies of skin, texture, and fragility. How did you develop this visual language to mirror Valeria’s journey?
This is where I have to talk about Aitor. We’ve worked on many projects together, and we share the same taste, references, and way of approaching images. I’m a director who is very invested in photography and technical details—light, composition, texture—while Aitor is a cinematographer who also thinks like a director. We often overlap, and that makes our collaboration very fluid. In fact, the initial idea for this piece came from him.
In a project like this we don’t make a specific planification of all the shots we want. Instead, we build around key images that come to mind, combining references, and letting intuition guide us. From the start, we knew we wanted a fashion-film aesthetic for much of the piece, contrasted with a more intimate, black-and-white section where the body feels exposed and fragile.
I like the way we work because we both believe in intuition when filming. The black-and-white intimate part wasn’t fully defined; on set, Aitor came up with the idea of the water drops, which I immediately thought was perfect. Thinking of the connection with tears, it became our favorite part. We wanted a very textured and contrasted image, so we used soft backlights to show all the detail of skin and water. We hadn’t planned on filming goosebumps, but the model got cold, and they appeared naturally, catching our attention. They ended up being a strong image.
In other scenes, we experimented with light: sometimes searching it really soft, sometimes from below, which gave Claudia’s gaze a certain sadness with a shine in her eyes. Her eyes were such a powerful element through all the film—they carried much of the emotion, especially in a film built on close-ups.
Sound design plays a central role in your work, and here, the narration, atmospheric sounds, and silence are deeply intertwined with the imagery. How did you approach building this sensorial world to bring us closer to Valeria’s inner life?
Yes, sound design is essential in all my work, especially in films like this, which rely more on sound and music than dialogue. I like to edit the videos myself, as my beginnings doing videos were as an editor and that’s one of the stages of the process where I feel more comfortable and capable. For me, image and sound are inseparable—I build them together in the process. I can’t edit in silence; I need sounds and temporary music to shape the rhythm. Often, the sound inspires images as much as the other way around.
When I’ve had the opportunity, I’ve liked to work with composers, but that’s not always possible financially, so for this project I did it myself. I have more ability in sound design than in creating music, as I’m not a composer and I don’t have a strong music theory background. I only played an instrument when I was little, and this musical knowledge is what I use when I have to make the music for personal projects. This is a funny thing, because as I don’t know harmonic theory, I work on music just based on my ear. It becomes like a kid’s game, playing notes and finding the ones that sound and fit good for me. It sometimes becomes a stressful process when I don’t come up with anything good, but there’s no option other than continuing until I find something I like. And the good thing is no one better than me knows what I want.
In the first part, I used sparse notes and atmospheric sounds, leaving intentional silences, especially when speaking about loneliness. In the second half, the music is fully mine. I’m proud of it because it keeps the tension until the end, where chords resolve and fall into a sad but freeing feeling. That was my goal with the sound design: to stay tense throughout, reflecting what Valeria explains: goosebumps, loneliness, pressure, struggles—and then to release, like the relief after someone has finished crying.
The use of fashion, styled clothing against stark, minimal backdrops, creates tension between appearance and reality. How important was this contrast in revealing the pressures of image and identity within the modelling world?
The two aesthetics—the polished and the raw—were central to the concept. I wanted to clearly separate the “model” from the “person.” A model’s face and body are at once the most intimate aspects of who they are, and yet also the tools brands use to sell an image. In Valeria’s case, she could have been asked to appear confident and joyful in a shoot, while in reality, she was experiencing the exact opposite. That contradiction fascinated me.
We conveyed this contrast through black-and-white intimacy—no makeup, no clothes, raw light—versus the fashion-inspired, stylised aesthetic in the other sequences.
At just 19, you already have a strong sensorial style shaped by your early years in video editing. How do you feel that background in rhythm and visual structure continues to influence your directing today?
I feel my background it’s one of the things that defines me better. As you said, I started editing many years ago, when I was 13, editing “montages,” a common format in video games, merging gameplay highlights with strong editing and effects. Even at 14, I got a job in an e-sports club where I worked editing announcement videos every month, so that developed my artistic voice. There I worked with people who influenced me a lot, shaping me both artistically and in the logical side of projects: managing resources, knowing the goal of a video, musical aspects… All those lessons transferred into filmmaking, which I began later because I wanted not just to edit but also to film.
I arrived in the film world even though I’m not especially interested in cinema itself, but in visuals, rhythm and sound. And that’s what instinctively attracts me when creating. That’s why the videos I make are often non-linear stories, sharing qualities with fashion films, commercials or documentaries, leaving me space to play with the things I most love.
Of course, I care about stories and I’m a sensitive person, but I always say a film’s value lies in the combination of image and sound. That’s why I make videos and not books—because I want to tell stories, but above all, I want to play with the whole experience of film and the possibilities it offers.
The ending, with its blurred visuals and focus on her father’s illness, leaves the audience in quiet vulnerability. What guided your decision to close the film this way, and what did you want viewers to carry with them after watching?
In fact, at first I wanted this final part with no image and only voice. Aitor was really close to me in the editing, and he didn’t like the idea of too much time with the black screen. He insisted on that, and I finally decided to assent. When searching for something to put there, we came up with this clip, where Aitor unfocused the image in camera by manually unfocusing it with the lens.
At the moment we were making the video, her father passed away, so this part was one of the most impactful when talking about what she says in the voiceover. I think that moment allows the viewer to feel all the weight this young girl was carrying. That’s the feeling I wanted to leave behind. This image, the way you see the eyes unfocused… I don’t know, it’s not a decision I thought about too much, but I really felt it right.
You’ve already developed a distinctive voice at such a young stage in your career. Looking ahead, what kinds of stories or themes do you feel most drawn to explore next?
The truth is I’m open to almost everything, but I would say that traditional formats are the ones that interest me the least. In film school I sometimes feel a bit misunderstood when I explore different formats and talk about my interest in the form of a piece.
With that in mind, I think I haven’t truly explored my creative world yet. Many of the ideas I’d like to develop are connected to my youth, and sport is also very present. I’m also drawn to documentary work and to the opportunity of creating around something real, like I did in this piece.
What I would like is to express my vision through personal projects in this kind of “installation videos”. These films function in a similar way poetry does: they can evoke deep emotions and transport you to special feelings, memories, or thoughts in a less rational way, similar to what happens when you smell something. They are not a linear story, but a search of different scenes of a world of characters within a universe of its own, guided by strong visuals, sound and music. Gabriel Moses’ film All Day I Dream About Sport is a good example of what I mean.
Commercials are actually the closest thing to the videos I used to edit when I was young. That’s why I’m also really excited to work on fashion films and commercials. I often hear criticism about them, but I don’t really understand it, because to me it’s fascinating to combine your own vision and knowledge with the projects of other people. I’m also interested in music videos; in the last few years I’ve edited and filmed some, though it always depends a lot on the music, the artist, and the freedom they give you. I see all these formats as a good place to develop a personal style, since they offer so many creative possibilities to explore.
However, I don’t think my style is fully defined yet, and I see each future project as an opportunity to shape it.
Whatever I do, I want to keep pursuing my vision and creating from what feels true to me.
Directed: Genís Baró
Director of Photography: Aitor Gómez
Direction Assistant: Aleksander Cardenas
Gaffer: Bruno Comas
1AC: Lluc Carles
2AC: Eloi Rodés
Stylism: Nuna Martín
Model: Claudia Jara
Edit & Sound Design: Genís Baró