“(…) There are moments when the camera feels too heavy, the script becomes a trap, the words become difficult, and the only thing one can do is sit down on the floor with a pair of scissors and attack something that already exists. Cutting is an act of highly controlled violence. Very civilized. You cut away what you no longer need from the world and paste it back together in an order that did not exist before. Perhaps it is the least obtuse definition of what I always do, in any medium. (…)

I don’t know what these pieces are. I know that I can be stuck on one of them for a month, while others come together on their own. I have my doubts about almost everything I do, and in that, at least, I am consistent. What I do know is that they are honest in a way that few of my other works are: they make no claims, they have no second act, they seek no one’s approval. They are simply what remained when I stopped thinking and started cutting and reworking and rearranging and giving things new meaning.

Come in. Look. And if something moves you, think that perhaps it was necessary.”

—Isabel Coixet