My workplace was in a small house in the industrial quarter. I worked there for many years. The demolition date was postponed again and again; then - one day - it was fixed. At night, when the house creaked and cracked, and the light switch didn't work, I took it as a sign: The house was sending me home.

Sometimes I stayed, went to the roof terrace, looked over the empty industrial quarter. The fewer lights that burn, the more connected you feel to them. It's a no-man's-land, which at first glance appears as nothing special, I looked closer and discovered a unique melancholic magic.

Here, I thought about security and loneliness. Two themes that are of great importance to me. And not only to me: Security and loneliness concern our society now more than ever.

I wondered about the shadow existence of the night teams, about the people who work in the few illuminated rooms, about their everyday life and the reasons why they work at night.

Do they feel attracted to places where light burns? What are they like when nobody sees them and how do they change when someone suddenly stands in front of them? Do guards sometimes become a danger themselves?

If you work alone, the house is often the only witness, and the chairs, tables and door handles are the only things you can touch. The guards and cleaning staff work at our spaces while we are away from work. Through their job they know so much more about us than we do about them.

Tower guards, gatekeepers, night watchmen, were already important in the Middle Ages, but they had a bad social reputation. They were scary, because they were active in the night with dark figures. When they died, they were buried outside the city walls in a mass grave.

If I saw a security guard at night, I rejoiced as if it were the chimney sweep. Although they are smiled at as hobby policemen, something dusty sticks to them; they actually still work with paper reporting note pads. I discovered during research tours that reality exceeded my assumptions by far. Their lonely lives, between routine control and alert, between inner philosophical excursions and social awareness, touched a nerve.

With love for the invisible people and things that shine under a layer of dust, I placed these images and moods in a cinematic story.

I chose the perspective of an office complex that is introduced as an independent character. It did not produce anything beautiful or special, and now, before its demolition, it wishes for a love story.

This starting position opens a clear perspective and an enchanted reality.

It is a "place-based narrative". This form fascinates me, it is an original filmic form, it raises the focus on an individual, enlarges it, it tells a lot and explains less. It relies on the attraction of the power of observation and lives from the tension of the twists and turns and new framings. It allows the audience the freedom to search with the office complex for a love story.

SEKURITAS has few dialogues. They are the linguistic ellipses of characters who have not spoken to anyone all day or who have thought so much that their feelings are difficult to express in words. This enables a view for the play of physical presence, the fine drawing of gestures and facial expressions. It is attractive to show people in their working cosmos and in their working clothes. The characters often seem to fit better into their uniforms than into their private clothes. We see the watchwoman and the cleaning man in their uniforms, and only at the very end do we see them in civilian clothes. We see them from a "private" side and learn more about them without words. This purely optical transformation shows in an unspectacular but impressive way the delights of cinematic narration.

Lights, people, worlds arise from the black. If you put out the light - the voices, the sounds and the music remain.

Visually, we focus on visibility and invisibility to guide the eye of the audience. The movements in the house and the lights, which are lit and switched off, constantly lead to new image compositions and a choreographic concatenation. The fantastic fictional means of stile; the shadows on the walls, the signs of the office complex and the cross-fades connect the lights and the characters in the rooms. They bring the cosmos of the night to life.

The levels of storyline, acting, image, sound design and music are finely meshed. The philosophical, social and everyday themes such as job loss, company bankruptcy, fear of the foreign, search for meaning, transfer from the microcosm to our world.

At the end there are two (or more) love stories and a flirt between windows.

Because for me, this is the very essence of SEKURITAS: In love we find the trust in life.

The film is an homage to houses, to a generation, to people who will soon leave us and to fellow travellers who we hardly ever notice, but who are so important. With Claudia Wick as producer and Stephan Teuwissen as dramaturge in the main team, I was supported for original, human and fabulous creations. Among the actors, I am very delighted to present known and unknown talents from my immediate surroundings: Kathrin Veith, Jeanne Devos, Daniel Kasztura, Vilmar Bieri, This Maag and - from Baghdad - Duraid Abbas Ghaieb.

With a strong female line-up in the head positions, an artistic crew came together behind the camera, who found a sensual and personal place in the night cosmos. The unusual cinematic approach offered us new ground, gave us courage and above all enthusiasm: If I got up earlier in the morning, then it was for all of them.

Zurich, Carmen Stadler