Today we’d like to introduce you to Nicholas Gelakis
Hi Nicholas, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
When I was young, I knew I loved movies. I grew up in a movie-loving household. Every Friday night, without fail, we’d gather and watch something new. For over a decade, that ritual introduced me to films I might never have discovered on my own. It shaped my taste, my style, my understanding of storytelling. Whether it was animated films that filled my childhood or the weightier dramas I encountered as I got older, movies were always present, always leaving their influence on me.
I had a bigger vocabulary for film than most kids, but I never really thought about making them—not at first. In high school, I started carrying my phone around, filming bits and pieces of my days, capturing my friends the way I saw them. It wasn’t serious, just something I did. And then, one day, a friend casually asked if I wanted to buy his camera. I didn’t know much about anything then, but I said yes anyway. I bought it for twenty dollars—probably the best twenty dollars I’ve ever spent.
That camera changed everything. I used it for school projects, for homemade short films, for anything I could think of. The more I filmed, the clearer things became. Directing my friends and creating scenes, I began to feel the future didn’t look so abstract anymore. I could see it. It became clear then this is what I wanted to do.
I didn’t go to film school. Instead, I threw myself into Miami’s film scene, not knowing exactly where it would lead. A month after graduating high school, I landed an internship at FilmGate, a nonprofit film organization. That was the first time I really saw a bit of the industry up close—what it looked like, how people found their way in. And from there, piece by piece, I started finding my own.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Not at all. I’ve faced my fair share of challenges—whether in health, work, or just showing up every day. When I’m doing what I love, it makes me nervous, no matter how many times I do it. It’s like taking a test every day, and no amount of preparation makes me feel 100% ready because each day brings something unexpected.
I might step on set looking confident, leading my small crew, but the truth is, I never fully know how things will unfold. And yet, that feeling is what draws me to it. I chase the feeling of being out of my depth because it pushes me to think fast and work harder, and meet the challenge where it’s at. When I’m involved in something i’ve never done before, it gets me pumped. It means I get to work overtime and think of great ideas. I feel nervous, sure, but I end up creating something I really love. The more I feel backed into a corner, the more rewarding it becomes when I figure my way out of that corner.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I’m a filmmaker, and for the past four years, I have worked to bring stories to life through film. Beyond that, I have worked in social media content. My most recent project, Florida Boys, is a short film made in collaboration with photographer and my great friend, Josh Aronson. Inspired by his five-year photography series of the same name, the film is not just a retrospective but a meditation for me—on memory, on opportunity, on what it means to take a fleeting moment and make it last. I aim to tell a story of how a great project came to be and the opportunity Josh was given to showcase his work on a grand scale.
I’m very proud to also announce that the short film has been selected to premiering in April at the 42nd Miami Film Festival, with tickets being available now on their website!
Before that, I worked on a series of short, immersive videos from places I visited between 2023 and 2024, titled The Postcards. It’s what i’m most known for at the moment and the content series, which is available on Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok, focuses on capturing beautiful, natural landscapes and environments. I avoid using the word ‘cinematic’ to describe them, as I feel it’s a word that’s too small to describe what they are. They aren’t only for spectacle and admiration, but to remind the viewer that our world looks exactly as shown, in its unique shapes and vibrant colors, and we can only realize that if we take a second to stop and see.
What sets me apart from most is not just my need to tell stories, but the need to sew them with hope and a glimpse of nobility, especially in a world that too often trades in cynicism.
Our world does not suffer from a lack of stories; it suffers from a lack of faith, from a lack of belief in greater than what we already have.
There is too much distance these days—too much solitude where community should be alive. For me, film—and art in all its forms—is a language of defiance, a declaration that life does not be confined to these standards. I’m proud I get to write stories that show we are more than what’s been handed to us. I want the audience to see that even in the gravest trials, we can hold out for hope. A hope that is not a fleeting comfort but a force—a call to confront the truth and to imagine, to build, and to live a future that is better than where we are.
If we knew you growing up, how would we have described you?
Growing up, I was always creating —but I was quiet about it. I had a hard time keeping still in class, my mind drifting elsewhere, lost between what was in front of me and the images in my head. Before I was a filmmaker, I was an artist. Before I even knew how to speak, I was already picking up a pen, scribbling away colors and shapes.
When I was young, I. never made a show of my work, but somehow, I became the artistic kid in my classes. By my first year of high school, I had come into myself a little more—leaned into the role, let curiosity get the better of me. I wanted to see things, to go places, and to bring my friends along for the ride. I’d take my friends out past my backyard, trailing through the woods, my camera in hand, turning our afternoons into little adventures to make into small movies. Some of them loved it. Others thought I was crazy.
Comics were where it all started—where my love for drawing, for storytelling, for film, first took root. My father put them in my hands when I was young, and I loved them since. I’ve collected them, studied them, obsessed over them. At nineteen, I got a job at Korka Comics, the iconic Miami’s comic shop, and to that younger version of myself—the one who didn’t know what career even meant—it was a dream come true. Even now, it meant something. When I wasn’t stocking books, I spent my days reading great stories, written by great writers, and somewhere along the way, I realized I wanted to tell my own. I’d take time in between lunch to write and brainstorm scripts, and some of those books really became the fuel for those ideas.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://woahniko.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/woah.niko/?hl=en
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@woah_niko
