Sometimes, the stars align not because you begged them to, but because you stopped waiting and just started filming. On today’s episode, we welcome the ever-resourceful Evan Kidd, an indie filmmaker whose down-to-earth creativity and fearless storytelling light a fire under any aspiring artist. Evan is the embodiment of what happens when resourcefulness meets soul.
Evan Kidd is a passionate filmmaker and storyteller whose work celebrates creative independence, community-driven production, and the power of authentic narratives told with whatever tools are available.
We tend to think that making a film requires a king’s ransom, but Evan dances with the spirit of what he calls “resource-based filmmaking.” No castles, no Hollywood gates, just a camera, a tight crew of true believers, and a story worth telling. The idea isn’t new. In fact, Evan draws inspiration from the likes of Robert Rodriguez and Richard Linklater, turning his attention to what he can do, rather than what he can’t. He reminds us that “You are as made as your team is made,” and that filmmaking, at its core, is more jazz than symphony—fluid, improvised, and unshakably soulful.
In this profound conversation, we have Evan Kidd, breaking down his approach to his feature film Son of Clowns—a micro-budget, soul-driven project shot in just ten days across the vibrant but cooperative cities of North Carolina. His production wasn’t built on money; it was built on trust. Locations weren’t bought, they were earned. Crews didn’t show up for the paycheck; they showed up for the mission. Evan didn’t simply direct a film—he directed a movement of belief. “Your team is your backbone,” he says, “and if they care about the story, they’ll carry it with you.”
The Zen of Evan’s filmmaking lies not in perfection but in adaptability. He shares how the most cinematic moment in Son of Clowns—a thundercloud punctuating a tense character scene—was a complete accident. And yet, it worked beautifully. Like the late afternoon rain on a summer’s day, it arrived uninvited but brought its own kind of grace. Filmmaking in the wild, he says, gives your work an authenticity no soundstage can replicate.
But beneath his technical prowess and planning lies a deeper wisdom: ego has no place on an indie set. “Check that shit at the door,” Evan warns with the calm certainty of someone who’s seen both chaos and clarity. A great film is not made in isolation but in communion—with your crew, with your environment, and most importantly, with yourself. He believes in leadership through humility, and his sets are a masterclass in creating space for others to shine.
Much of Evan’s strength comes from his refusal to let fear define the boundaries of his creativity. He speaks candidly about the paralysis of perfectionism and the myth of needing approval before doing your work. In a world that often rewards noise over substance, Evan is quietly building a legacy from the ground up—one rooted in sincerity, resilience, and unshakable love for the craft. As he puts it, “At the very least, if you try, you can say you tried. But if you don’t, that thought will haunt you.”
The truth is, most artists don’t need permission to begin. They just need to start. And Evan’s journey reminds us that the tools for transformation are often already in our hands—be it a borrowed camera, a loyal friend with time to spare, or a stormcloud rolling in at just the right moment.
