Life, Values & Legacy: Our Chat with Bea del Pozo

Bea del Pozo shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Bea, it’s always a pleasure to learn from you and your journey. Let’s start with a bit of a warmup: What do you think is misunderstood about your business? 
I think what’s most misunderstood about my work as a filmmaker is the idea that taking a creative break is somehow a setback. There’s this pressure in the industry to always be producing, always moving, always showing what’s next. But for me, stopping has never meant falling behind. It has meant realigning.

Some of the most important shifts in my storytelling have come from the moments when I stepped away, from the camera, from the noise, from the need to prove anything. Those quiet periods are where I actually grow. They’re where I reconnect with myself, with the people I love, and with the world I’m trying to portray.

I don’t believe creativity thrives under constant output. It thrives under honesty. And honesty requires time: time to observe, to feel, to question, to let life happen to you. When I take a break, I’m not abandoning my work, I’m preparing for it. I’m gathering the emotional material that later becomes my films.

So if anything is misunderstood, it’s that pausing isn’t losing momentum. It’s part of the momentum. The silence before the next idea isn’t empty; it’s necessary. It’s where my stories begin.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Bea del Pozo, a filmmaker and storyteller born and raised in León, Spain. From a young age, I’ve been passionate about storytelling and the power of cinema to connect people and evoke strong emotions. Movies were my first love, and that love grew into a career path when I pursued a bachelor’s degree in Journalism and Cinema and Screen Studies. I started my studies in Spain and later transferred to a university in New York, where I discovered my passion for screenwriting, cinematography, and directing. After graduating, I realized I wanted to focus even more on film as my creative journey. That’s what brought me to Los Angeles to pursue my master’s degree in Film Production.

Filmmaking, to me, is deeply personal. At its core, my work is about telling stories that make people feel something, stories that capture vulnerability, resilience, and the complexity of human emotions. What sets me apart is my approach to storytelling. I lean into the quiet, often unspoken moments that reveal the deepest truths. Whether I am writing, directing, or producing, my goal is always to create films that make people feel seen, understood, and connected.

One of the projects I am most proud of is Behind the Pink Door, which explores the harsh realities of sorority hazing. That film went on to win multiple awards, but more importantly, it sparked conversations about the hidden struggles many young women face. Another project, Solo, is a deeply personal story about doubt, identity, and faith, and I hope it resonates with people on a profound level. Right now, I am developing Walking in Circles, a project inspired by real events in my hometown, exposing systemic neglect in elderly care.

I am also working on Almost, Always, a story that explores the complexities of love, timing, and missed connections. This project feels incredibly personal to me because it reflects how love is not always about grand gestures, but about the small moments, the what-ifs, and the things left unsaid. It is a deeply emotional story, and I am excited to see how it evolves.

While my journey has not been easy, every challenge has reinforced why I do this. Filmmaking is not just about creating, it is about perseverance. The lessons I have learned along the way, resilience, adaptability, and trusting the creative process, have shaped not only my career but also who I am as an artist. I have realized that success is not just measured by awards or recognition but by the impact a story leaves behind.

What I want the world to know about my work is that it is about more than just storytelling. It is about creating something that lingers. Whether through film or other creative mediums, my goal is to evoke emotions that stick with people long after the credits roll. I believe stories have the power to change perspectives, to offer comfort, to challenge, and to inspire. At the end of the day, I create because I have to. Because there are stories that need to be told. Because art, in all its forms, has the ability to transform a moment, a mindset, or even a life.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
Before the world told me who I had to be, I was a very sensitive child. I felt everything deeply, joy, fear, love, disappointment, and I didn’t know yet that sensitivity could be seen as a flaw. I was curious, imaginative, a little dramatic, always inventing stories before I even understood what storytelling meant. I loved observing people, quietly trying to understand why they felt the way they did.

As I grew up, the world taught me to toughen up, to perform strength, to hide my softness. I learned to be the achiever, the responsible one, the person who didn’t take up too much space. But the truth is, the younger version of me, the one who felt everything, is still the core of who I am as a filmmaker today. She’s the one who notices small details, who remembers what people say, who listens closely, who loves deeply and expresses it through stories. Filmmaking became the place where I could return to her, where being sensitive isn’t just allowed, it’s necessary.

When did you last change your mind about something important?
The last time I changed my mind about something important was when I realized that the version of success I had been chasing wasn’t actually mine. For most of my life, I felt like I had to prove myself, to be impressive, to be productive, to never slow down. I thought success meant constantly doing, constantly achieving, constantly showing that I deserved to be here.

But this past year broke that idea open for me. I went through moments of doubt, moments where nothing looked the way I expected, and I caught myself equating stillness with failure. And that was the moment I understood something deeper: I wasn’t just chasing success, I was chasing reassurance. I was trying to outrun the fear of not being enough.

Changing my mind meant admitting that to myself. It meant allowing the possibility that success could be quieter, gentler, and more honest. That it could look like choosing stories that matter to me, even if they take longer. That it could look like resting without guilt. That it could look like trusting myself even when no one is watching.

Now, success feels less like reaching for something outside of me and more like returning to myself. It’s the feeling of alignment, of knowing I’m growing in the right direction, even if the steps are small or imperfect. That shift has made me braver as a filmmaker. I’m not trying to earn my place anymore. I’m learning to take it.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
My closest friends would probably say that what matters most to me is genuine connection, the kind where people stop performing and just let themselves be who they are. I’ve always been someone who pays attention to small things, almost without trying. I notice the shift in someone’s voice when they’re trying to be brave, the way they look away when something hurts, the spark that appears when they feel seen. Those tiny, invisible moments mean more to me than anything big or loud.

I don’t think my friends would describe me as someone who has everything figured out, but they’d say I care, sometimes maybe too much. They’d say that I’m drawn to realness, to sincerity, to the emotional truth underneath things. I’m loyal, I show up when I can, and I try to make the people I love feel understood, even if I’m not always the best at expressing it directly.

And I think they’d say that what really matters to me is building relationships that feel safe and honest, where people don’t have to pretend. That’s something I carry into my films too. I’m fascinated by what people don’t say, by the small gestures that reveal who we are when we’re not thinking about it. For me, those quiet, human details are where the heart of a story lives, and where my closest friendships live too.

Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: What will you regret not doing? 
I think I would regret not building the life I can already picture for myself, even if it still feels far away sometimes. Not just the films I want to make, but the version of myself I’m slowly growing into. I’d regret not giving her a real chance.

If I ever look back with regret, I know it won’t be because something didn’t work out. It’ll be because I never tried. Because I hesitated, or doubted myself, or waited for a moment that was never going to feel perfect. I’d regret all the ideas I kept inside my head, the stories I didn’t let breathe, the opportunities I dismissed because I thought I wasn’t ready yet.

I know myself well enough to know that I feel most alive when I’m creating something that matters to me, when I’m being brave in small ways. So I think I’d regret the times I chose fear over possibility. The times I told myself to shrink. The times I convinced myself that maybe someone else should tell the story instead of me.

More than anything, I’d regret realizing too late that I was capable of more than I allowed myself to believe, that the things I want aren’t out of reach, they just require me to step into them. I don’t want to miss out on the life I could have if I stop doubting myself long enough to let it happen.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.beadelpozo.com/
• Instagram: beaadelpozo
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/beadelpozo/

Image Credits
Miranda Cardenas