Rising Stars: Meet Zhengyang Du of Alhambra

Today we’d like to introduce you to Zhengyang Du.

Hi Zhengyang, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
My first step into filmmaking began when I joined a documentary project with Harbin Television, traveling to Israel to film Chinese laborers working there. Unlike workers sent by state-owned companies, these men were independent contractors who went abroad through private channels, yet often found themselves without legal protection. Some suffered work injuries and have still not received compensation, while returning home meant losing any chance of justice. This social issue deeply struck me — I believed their stories needed to be told. During that journey, I started learning how to tell stories through images and realized that filmmaking could be a way to give voice to those who are unheard.

That experience changed the way I saw both filmmaking and responsibility. It taught me that the camera is not only a technical tool, but also a moral one — a way to document truth, preserve dignity, and connect lives across distance. Since then, I’ve been committed to exploring stories that hold both social and emotional weight.

Currently, I’m a cinematographer who works on both films and documentaries. Most of my documentary projects are mission-driven and often created in collaboration with nonprofit or community-based organizations. I hope my work can carry both social meaning and artistic value — to inspire audiences and move them emotionally. Whether I’m documenting the daily life of Tibetan Buddhists in Western China or exploring discussions around gender and identity, I want my images to bring reflection and beauty to people.

Furthermore, what I love most about my work is the chance to encounter different ways of living and to understand how people see the world. Even if my films may not reach a huge audience, I believe their quiet presence can still give voice to those whose stories deserve to be seen. Grounded in reality, my documentaries have profoundly influenced my approach to cinematography — teaching me how to capture authenticity, empathy, and the poetry within the ordinary.

Recently, I completed a self-initiated project at the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta in New Mexico. I was fascinated by the idea that there exists such a romantic celebration — a gathering of people who love the sky. Standing on the vast desert plain, surrounded by the glow of dawn and hundreds of balloons rising through the cold air, I was inspired by the colors, the light, and the human spirit. While reviewing the footage, I started thinking about how these compositions and emotions might shape my next narrative film — how to transform the fleeting beauty of real life into cinematic imagination.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Transitioning from documentary cinematography to narrative filmmaking has been anything but easy. It required me to study more systematically, to deepen both my theoretical knowledge and practical experience, and to continually challenge the habits I had developed over years of vérité work. Although these were areas I initially found daunting, I’ve tried to stay confident, curious, and persistent — taking each step with patience and constantly strengthening my craft.

Yet I have never regretted beginning my journey in documentary film. In fact, that experience laid the foundation for everything I do today. The essence of my creative energy still comes from it — it continues to be the wellspring that feeds my imagination. As a documentary cinematographer, I have spent the past three years striving to transition into narrative filmmaking. Looking back, I realize how far I’ve come without noticing — each frame, each story, has quietly carried me away from where I started.

The renowned Chinese film scholar Dai Jinhua once said that since the birth of cinema, the human lifespan has been extended threefold, because through film we can live other people’s lives and feel what they feel. A friend once told me that those who truly understand life are also those who make the best films. I couldn’t agree more.

I am deeply grateful to every person who has allowed me to film their story — the Chinese construction workers making a living in Israel; the small tech entrepreneurs in North America; the Tibetan woman in Shambhala searching for her own existence; my college friend who found courage through the duality of light to undergo gender affirmation surgery; the boy who dreamed of diving in the Pacific but wasn’t allowed; the horse confined in its stable, desperate to run; the hot-air balloons rising from the plains of New Mexico; and the online singer in Shaanxi diagnosed with schizophrenia. Each life is a single frame, and all those frames together make up the film of our shared humanity.

My camera has always been greedy — it longs to sculpt time with precision. When I began shooting narrative films, I realized that every character and space I encountered still spoke to me in the same way my documentary subjects once did. Somehow, I always felt guided — knowing instinctively how to frame, how to light, how to listen.

If that can be called “inspiration,” then it comes entirely from the people who once allowed me into their worlds. It is their courage, their truth, that keeps my creativity alive.

Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I’m a cinematographer who works across narrative and documentary films, exploring the emotional connection between light, space, and human experience.

My work is often described as intimate yet visually poetic. I strive to capture authenticity — the quiet moments where emotion and environment naturally coexist. Coming from a background in documentary, I bring a deep sensitivity to real spaces and movement into my narrative cinematography.

I’ve shot several award-winning short films and documentaries that explore identity, belonging, and transformation. Among them, In the Light and Hounds Under My Bed have been screened at festivals such as the Atlanta Film Festival and the Portland Film Festival.

What sets me apart — and what I’m most proud of — is my ability to merge the observational eye of a documentarian with the crafted visual rhythm of narrative cinema. I’m deeply drawn to observing spaces — the lives, movements, and light that exist within them. To me, these observations form a visual language through which I create images and tell stories.

What does success mean to you?
I once stood alone by the sea in the rain, filming the sunset. An elderly woman passed by, smiled, and said, “You can take as many photos as you like — but in the end, you only need one.”

That moment stayed with me. To me, success is exactly that — to keep filming, to keep searching, until I capture that one image, that one film, that truly belongs to my life.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://dukecine.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dukexa997/