Lena Tsod: A Few Of My Favourite Things

I have to confess, I am extremely attached to things and objects.

Some people would definitely call it unhealthy, and my mum is certainly one of them.

But to me, they’re time-travel portals that shape my world.

Everything that has ever happened to me, every decision I’ve ever made, every up and down, all of it orbits around me on a daily basis, shaping my identity and serving as the main source of heart and genuineness in my work, whether it’s film or commercial, AI-driven or fully analogue.

Blending everything intimate, ultra-personal and warm with everything zeitgeist and pulsating with the current heartbeat, that’s the recipe for the secret sauce in all of my work.

And I love it madly.

Every object I keep holds a story.

And the energy of all the possible stories that surrounded me in every place I’ve ever lived still pulsates with a hot heartbeat, always alive, no matter how old or new the item is.

So allow me to invite you into the emotionally comforting world of some of my favourite things, and the stories behind them.

The Photo Chemical Glass Jar

This jar is somewhere between 50 and 75 years old.

My grandfather was an executive-level engineer in the Soviet Union.

But when he was just 24, he saved up multiple salaries and bought his first camera, and then took photographs for the rest of his life.

He switched cameras constantly and, of course, always developed and printed everything himself.

I grew up with a makeshift darkroom in our bathroom, where he (and then my father, and then my older brother) developed this massive archive of stunning, deeply personal photographs.

I’m currently turning that archive into a book.

I use this jar to mix developer concentrate when developing my own black-and-white film rolls.

I love the idea that it carries creative energy through generations.

It makes me feel close to my grandfather, his passion, his craft, and the legacy of analogue photography in my family.

And also, let’s be honest, $18 for a develop and scan of a black-and-white roll in LA is absurd.

The Book

This small book is my directing bible.

It literally has answers to everything.

A guiding light in the dark.

A daily go-to.

It’s David Mamet’s On Directing.

The House Number

All the wildest, craziest, scariest, sweetest, warmest experiences of my life happened during the summers I spent at my childhood summer house.

This house number was custom-produced at my grandfather’s factory, like pretty much everything at that house.

I saved this number when we sold the place.

It’s a little portal.

The Notebook

This notebook was my husband’s birthday gift back when we were both students at Columbia University’s Film Program in New York.

It’s a notebook where I pressed and kept flowers, and wrote down quotes and thoughts from actors I met and liked.

Well, at least the ones from the first couple of years.

I had to get new notebooks and a proper flower press, because it turns out I meet and like a lot of actors.

The (Many) Moleskines

I’ve been using the same exact Moleskine agenda for the past 13 years.

And I keep them all.

It’s the best way for me to time travel.

I can flip to my second year at Columbia and see what I was stressing about.

Or to 2018, when we were planning our wedding.

I also write down random ideas, mundane tasks, everything.

It’s my brain on paper.

Apps could never do this for me, only physical paper can.

The Vinyl

Speaking of New York.

We’ve been in LA for 10 years now, and you know what?

It is way too warm here.

Growing up in cold Moscow, I miss the snow.

I watched Inside Llewyn Davis only once when it came out.

I can’t say it changed my life, but the music did.

We played that soundtrack so much in New York, and it makes me nostalgic for those grey winter afternoons.

I highly urge you to try it this winter season.

A dark afternoon, preferably snowing, preferably a warm floor lamp, vinyl and whiskey.