Where did the idea for 'The Diva, My Grandma and Me' come from, and what inspired you to tell this story through memories, music, and fantasy?

The seed for the film emerged in a post-COVID moment. My grandmother Esperanza, who was already over 90, went to live with my mother, and I took the opportunity to sit with her, chat, and record our conversations. These conversations unfolded as we looked through family photos and videos together, accompanied by my grandmother’s humming and sayings. At one point, she sang: “Se dice que muy pronto, si Dios no media, tendremos las mujeres que ir a la guerra y yo, como medida de precaución, ya estoy organizando mi batallón”—and that was the beginning… Discovering that Lilian de Celis (the last active cupletista and a neighbour from my village) had popularised this song in the 1950s; that she was willing to let me work with her entire archive; that Rodrigo Cuevas was up for creating the soundtrack alongside her; and that Sultana Films would accompany us on this wonderful journey.

Animation can be very demanding. What were the biggest challenges or difficulties you encountered during the short film’s development?

This is my first animation project, so the entire process was a challenge. Animation is a completely different world, with its own rhythms, language, and codes, so having Diego Herguera as producer was key to navigating the creative process, production, and decision-making.

In the short film, a granddaughter travels through her grandmother’s memories and encounters fantastic characters, including free-spirited women with limitless dreams. Why was it important for you to include these figures?

I think generationally we’ve grown up with a significant lack of female role models, and encountering the first generation of cupletistas—whom they themselves called sicalípticas—was a gift. They were truly revolutionary women who broke all the rules, and it’s very unfair how little they are known. While researching this period (late 19th to early 20th century), I noticed many similarities with today’s socio-political climate, so planting the seed of these women in the audience is a way of opening a window for reflection on the past, present, and future.

From the start of the project to its selection at the Malaga Film Festival, what has been the journey of 'The Diva, My Grandma and Me', and which moments would you highlight from its festival run?

It was incredibly exciting to premiere at SEMINCI, being one of Spain’s most established festivals. Having the imprint of José Luis Cienfuegos, who ran the Gijón Film Festival during my adolescence, made it even more special. Each festival that has selected us has left its mark on the film’s journey. And when this combines with screenings accompanied by audience encounters—like those we had in Cangas de Onís or MUSOC in Gijón—the circle of creating and sharing cinema feels complete.

Your work has been selected in the Animazine Short Film section. What does it mean for you to be screened there, and what would you like audiences to take away?

We’re thrilled with this selection. It’s very important that festivals have sections dedicated to animation, and being programmed alongside colleagues like Carmen Córdoba and Valle Comba is a real privilege. I’d like the audience to have a good time, and I think the short lends itself to that. Many people who have already seen it have told us it made them connect with their grandmothers’ kitchens and their own experiences, which is magical. After all, we’ve all been grandchildren, and… who doesn’t love a diva like Lilian de Celis and a bit of glitter?

After this short film, what would you like to explore in your future projects?

Rescuing a memory that is in danger of disappearing always drives me to keep working. That’s why I will continue moving forward with my eyes wide open, because after the experience of 'The Diva, My Grandma and Me', it’s clear that small, everyday things can open doors to wonderful worlds.