Nik Tizekker shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Nik, really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What do you think is misunderstood about your business?
I think what’s most misunderstood about my business, the film industry, is that even though you may be working all the time. You’re not rich. You can still be very successful in your line of work or career and still not be financially stable. I know plenty of people, especially in my line of work, who work all the time and have worked for a long time and continue to struggle.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I have been working as a director and producer for over 15 years. I founded Tizaster Productions in 2005, a company which has become known for taking my clients’ ideas and initiatives and turning them into art in motion. I have a wide range of experience, specializing in Feature Film and Television. I have shot videos for dozens of artists, including Kaya Jones, Krayzie Bone, Brandyn Burnette, and Leah Turner. Most recently, I have worked with Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame inductee and Journey member, Jonathan Cain for music video and album design work.
I am currently in the finishing stages of writing a memoir about how and what I have done to get to where I am in the industry. The trials and tribulations I’ve gone through to get here.
Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
I’ve always carried this peculiar gift—something close to an out-of-body experience—where I can flip my perspective as if I’m holding the camera on my own life. One moment I’m in the scene, living it, and the next, I’m outside of it, watching myself like a director behind the lens.
Take something as ordinary as driving. I’ll be behind the wheel, eyes locked on the road, music humming through the speakers—then suddenly, I see myself from outside the car, a figure in motion framed against the passing world. It’s as if I’m both actor and audience at once.
That’s when I knew my brain was wired differently.
What did suffering teach you that success never could?
There was a moment in my career when I thought, this is it. The moment I had been building toward. My time to shine. It felt perfect—like everything had finally aligned. I was surrounded by an incredible team, developing a massive film with actors I had grown up watching on screen, legends of the ’80s and ’90s. And for the first time, I wasn’t just watching from the sidelines—I was producing. It was exhilarating.
But then, as quickly as it had come together, it all came crashing down. The dream unraveled. It left me with more than just lessons—it left a bitter taste in my mouth that lingered for quite some time.
This is just one example—the most recent, in fact—but it’s far from the only one. Along the way there have been both major and minor setbacks, moments that nearly convinced me to walk away from it all. Times when I questioned whether the fight was worth it.
Still, I’m an artist. And artists don’t stay down for long. I bounced back because I missed it—the magic, the late-night brainstorming, the electric hum of a story coming to life. No matter how bruised I felt, the creative process kept calling me back.
So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
I think the biggest lie about this industry is that it’s glamorous—that there’s such a thing as “overnight success.” People see a headline, a breakout role, or a sudden hit and think it happened overnight. What they don’t see are the years of grinding, the countless auditions, the projects that never make it past development, the nights you go home wondering if you’ll ever catch a break.
Sure, there are bright lights and famous faces. There’s makeup, red carpets, and the illusion of magic. But none of that happens without the work. You have to put in the hours—on set, behind the camera, in the trenches where nobody’s watching. Success in this business isn’t luck. It’s persistence. It’s sacrifice. It’s waking up every day and choosing to keep going, even when it would be easier to quit.
The truth is, it’s not glamorous. It’s a lot of “hurry up and wait.” It’s juggling egos and attitudes, navigating personalities that can light up a scene or blow up an entire production. And yet, for those of us wired to do this, the grind is part of the magic. Because buried inside all that waiting, all that work, is the moment when the camera rolls—and that’s when everything makes sense.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: Are you doing what you were born to do—or what you were told to do?
That ability to flip my point of view—to step outside myself and see the scene from a camera’s lens—has always felt like a kind of superpower. Maybe other people can do it too, but for me, it was the clearest sign that this is what I was born to do. From the very beginning, storytelling wasn’t just something I loved, it was how my mind was wired.
Of course, people always told me I needed a backup plan, just in case this “film thing” didn’t work out. But to me, a backup plan was just a built-in excuse to quit. It was already admitting defeat before I’d even started. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t.
I was born to be an artist. A storyteller. Not because someone told me I should, or because it seemed like the safe or logical path. But because it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. I didn’t stumble into it—I carried it with me, like a lens I could never put down.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.tizasterproductions.com
- Instagram: @niktizekker
