I made Visions of Loss out of a need to confront a certain kind of image — one that had lived in me for years before it ever became a film. The solitary rider, the barren mountain, the dying outlaw, the silence before violence: these were not narrative ideas at first, but fragments. They belonged less to plot than to a state of mind.

What interested me was not action, but aftermath. I wanted to make a film in which violence is never simply spectacle, but something distant, unresolved, almost metaphysical — something that continues to exist in the landscape and in the body long after it has happened.

The film was shot in Campo Imperatore, in the mountains of Abruzzo, a place that carries an immense visual and emotional force for me. There is something ancient and exposed about that terrain. It feels suspended outside of time. When I first encountered it, I felt that it already contained the emotional architecture of the film: emptiness, scale, silence, and a kind of sacred desolation.