Filmmakers Santiago Carrasquilla and Danaé Gosset have created a deeply moving short documentary that captures the life and wisdom of Luis Benz, a self-taught sign painter from Argentina with five decades of experience. The film, titled "Luis Benz: Happiness is Achieved With Very Simple Things," emerged from footage shot in 2019 but remained dormant for nearly eight years before being completed.
The partnership between Santiago and Danaé began both professionally and personally during a highly productive creative period. Both former apprentices of design legends Stefan Sagmeister and Paula Scher, they had just completed a successful music video for American singer-songwriter Mitski's "A Pearl" with Saad Moosajee and Art Camp. "We were both in this work-driven phase where we just wanted to keep making things," explains Danaé. "So instead of resting, we jumped into another project."
The idea for the Luis Benz film had been developing in Santiago's mind for years after meeting the craftsman. "I met him years before," he recalls. "And it was even in my ten-year plan when I graduated from the School of Visual Arts in New York, from Debbie Millman's class. I'd already bought a bunch of his signs for our house, and I told Danaé the idea. She pushed us to make it happen." Their spontaneous approach led them to finalize the concept while traveling to Argentina, literally figuring out details in a taxi on the way to the airport.
The creative breakthrough came with their decision to ask Luis to paint 50 signs containing words of personal significance rather than documenting his commercial work. "I thought it would be interesting to have him paint words he normally didn't get asked to paint," explains Santiago. "Not 'ice cream' or 'soda', but something else. I was surprised by his choices. He pulled out an old dictionary and selected his favorite words, including some ancient Spanish words that are no longer in common use. On the back of each sign, he wrote the definitions."
This innovative framework transformed what could have been a straightforward craft documentary into something far more intimate and revealing. "It came from wanting to give him a chance to make something for himself," explains Danaé. "His work was usually for fruit shops or boats. Shifting that context felt powerful, asking him to turn inward and pick the words that carried meaning for him."
Despite capturing powerful material during their five days in Argentina, the film's path to completion proved challenging. Personal projects can be particularly difficult to finish, and this one carried additional emotional complexity. "One of the hardest things to do is finish personal projects, especially big ones," admits Santiago. "This felt big: five days of shooting, a lot of footage to work through. Editing was daunting. It took us a while to even open the footage. And then, life happened. Danaé and I broke up in the middle, which kept us less motivated to work on it."
The editing process alone required a year and a half, during which they had to find the story within hours of footage. Danaé credits Santiago's persistence for seeing the project through to completion. "I honestly don't think I would've finished it if it were just me," she says. "Santiago really took the project on, working with Fabián to find the story behind the footage. He shaped it into something very human, where the craft is secondary to Luis's life. That's what makes it powerful."
The film's visual approach mirrors Luis's own philosophy about happiness and simplicity. Shot on a Canon C300 with quality lenses, the cinematography captures intimate, unposed moments that feel both timeless and immediate. "Danaé and I both took turns shooting, finding shots together," recalls Santiago. "Because we were there all day, we caught beautiful light and these natural unfoldings of his story. For color, we worked with a great colorist in Paris named Hadrian. We spent time shaping the footage so it felt timeless, like a memory; inspired by analog photography."
The filmmakers developed a genuine relationship with Luis through their immersive approach. "Every day for five days, we went to his house and just sat with him," says Santiago. "We filmed him painting, smoking, playing music, working. He was always telling stories, always cracking jokes. Even though there was a language barrier for Danaé, it felt natural and homey."
Luis's immediate openness to these young filmmakers from New York was remarkable and stemmed from genuine human connection rather than professional courtesy. "I'd met Luis some years before and had already commissioned signs from him," reflects Santiago. "But beyond that, all three of us are open, welcoming, kind people. Luis could feel that our interest in his craft was genuine. And I think he was surprised that a couple of New York kids would come all the way to Argentina just to make a film about him."
The depth of trust between subject and filmmakers is evident in the film's opening moments, which begin not with Luis's craft but with his most vulnerable story about leaving home at age nine and never returning. "That decision came during the long edit," remembers Santiago. "I'm sure there was a version where he began by saying he was a letter artist. But we decided to start with the heartbreaking part: 'I left home when I was nine.' It felt strong. Beginning with that gave the film more heart."
While Luis demonstrates clear skill in his craft, the film's power lies in its focus on the person behind the paintbrush. "It's really about him as a person first," observes Danaé. "The hardships of being human, of living through so much. The craft is there, but it's secondary. What you're seeing is a glimpse into someone's life, with all its cracks and complexity."
This human-first approach resonates deeply at a time when authenticity feels increasingly rare in media. "For me, what stands out is the rawness we were able to capture," Danaé adds. "It felt authentic, unposed. Almost spiritual in a way; like catching a glimpse of something larger than us in these small, human moments."
Nearly eight years after those five days in Argentina, the completed film stands as a testament to the power of genuine human connection and the importance of taking time to truly listen to others' stories. "I hope viewers see the authenticity of Luis's life," reflects Danaé. "He let us in, showed us his humanity, and there's wisdom in that. To me, it's about honoring him as a man, an artist, and someone who has lived a long and complex life. Catching that glimpse felt precious—like a reminder of the grandeur of being human." For creatives, the documentary serves as a reminder that the most powerful stories often exist right in front of us, waiting patiently for someone with a camera and the wisdom to simply listen.
