When directors talk about personal projects, there’s usually a familiar glint in their eyes: full creative control, zero client notes, and the chance to make something that represents them.
Sure, the budgets are rarely there. You beg, borrow, and hustle. But in that hustle, something interesting happens — your creative problem-solving kicks in. You find visual solutions without fancy gear. You experiment. You play.
And often, it’s this kind of work — music videos, short films, proof-of-concepts — that ends up being the most creatively fulfilling. It’s the work that gets noticed and often it’s the work that lands you the next commercial gig.
1. Personal work isn’t a luxury — it’s creative maintenance.
“Passion projects just really f****** train you to be a badass.” – Wandile Xaba
It’s where you test new styles. Tell stories no brand would ever brief in. Explore themes that matter to you. It keeps your voice alive and evolving. And it often becomes the calling card for collaborators and clients who want to work with you because of that voice — not just your ability to execute a board.
It also deepens your creative relationships. You get to try things with DOPs, editors, art directors, and producers you admire — or already love working with — without the pressures of a commercial brief. It’s where real trust and creative chemistry are built.
Most importantly, it reconnects you to why you got into this in the first place.
2. Personal Work as a Career Strategy
We shouldn’t think of personal work as a creative outlet only — it’s also a powerful career lever. Directors speak about how their reels don’t always reflect the kind of work they want to be doing.
“Sometimes I feel like I need to make a narrative piece just so I can get that kind of performance-driven commercial work. It’s not on my reel otherwise.” – Zandi Tisani
That’s the paradox: You can’t get the job without the reel, and you can’t build the reel without making the work. So you make the work — yourself.
Passion projects aren’t just expressions — they’re positioning. They say, “Here’s what I can do,” before anyone gives you permission (or money).
3. What Gets in the Way
The obvious ones: time, money, energy.
As careers grow, time shrinks. The jobs get bigger. The pressure to deliver increases. And somewhere along the way, the space to create for yourself disappears.
But also: perfectionism. Fear of failure. The internal voice that says, “If it’s not amazing, it’s not worth doing.”
We wait for the perfect conditions. But they rarely arrive. So we keep waiting. And the gap gets wider.
We forget what it felt like to just make something for the sake of it. Now, every shoot has to justify itself. Every idea has to be “worth it.” And slowly, that freedom turns into fear. That curiosity gets buried under client decks.
The risk is creative burnout disguised as professional momentum.
“During lockdown, no one was working. We just made something — a two-minute film that took a week and a half because we could play. Now it feels like you’re either pitching, seeking out work, or questioning your existence.” – Talya Galasko
4. Finding a Way Back (to Making Stuff Again)
The biggest barrier to personal work is that we think it needs to be big. A sweeping short film. A six-month side project. But maybe we need to start thinking smaller — on purpose.
“Sometimes you don’t need to shrink the idea, but rather shoot a fragment of it. A pilot scene. A mood piece. Just enough to get the story moving.” – Talya Galasko
Begin with a scene. A single moment. A one-minute idea.
Write a story that fits on a Post-it note.
What’s the essence of the eight-minute short film you’ve been sitting on for two years — can you distill it into sixty seconds? What happens if you try?
But not everyone wants to make things shorter — and that’s valid too.
“In commercial work, we’re so used to making really short, really constrained pieces. So when I get the chance to make something personal, I want to go longer. I haven’t trained that muscle yet.” – Wandile Xaba
No matter how you look at it, making personal work is important. It’s where we sharpen storytelling instincts. It’s where we get comfortable trying and failing again.
And ironically, it’s where we often create work that has more impact than the polished, overproduced pieces we never get around to finishing.
5. Don’t overthink it, just make something, even if you have to do it yourself
We’re used to big sets, big toys, and commercial polish. But personal work doesn’t have to look like a high-end TVC. We often forget that we can make things lo-fi, and that becomes a barrier to creation. Also, in this galaxy of content creation, perfection really isn’t that important – at times, imperfection is probably better, more real, more authentic. If it’s too polished you lose something.
“We’re spoiled in advertising — we get to play with the big toys. But if you have an iPhone, Da Vinci is free, you can record voice notes and if you’ve got a story worth telling… people will see beyond the production value. They’ll see your voice.” – Jabu Nadia Newman
Technology has made things much easier. Now you can use personal projects to sharpen new skills — not just directing. You learn to edit, shoot or record sound yourself.
“I cried for the first week editing my documentary… then I was like, s***, I know how to do this. I’m not going to become an editor. But now I know how. That’s power.” – Zandi Tisani
6. Final Thoughts: The Work That Feeds Us
Personal work doesn’t need to be separate from professional growth. In fact, it’s often the fuel for it.
When we make time to create for ourselves, we stay creatively nourished. We build better relationships. We remember what we’re capable of. And we put things into the world that might not exist otherwise.
So if you’ve been waiting for permission — this is it.
Make something. Even if it’s small. Especially if it’s small.
Because sometimes, the smallest things are what keep us going.