As part of the Library's Armenian Heritage Month celebration, the Central Library's Taper Auditorium became a space for storytelling, reflection, and resilience. Filmmakers Ara Oshagan and Balin Schneider engaged in a compelling conversation about their works, What Can I Tell You? We Lost Everything and My Dearest Artsakh, two films that illuminate the ongoing displacement of Armenians through deeply personal narratives. Moderated by Armen Karaoghlanian, founder of the Armenian Film Society, the discussion examined the creative processes behind these films and the historical echoes of displacement that continue to shape Armenian identity. The evening was enriched by traditional Armenian music performances and a broader exploration of Armenian cinema, creating an immersive cultural experience for attendees. The following is a transcript of their conversation.
Armen Karaoghlanian: Thank you both for being here and for sharing your work with us. You’ve each made two very different films, but before we get into the films, I’d love to start by asking you both about your backgrounds and the kind of work you primarily focus on outside of these particular projects, just to give us some context. Hrag, would you like to begin?
Ara Oshagan: Sure. First of all, thank you to the Armenian Film Society for having me and for showing my film. I'm honored to be here, and thank you to everyone who came this afternoon.
I'm primarily a visual artist. I actually began in literature, but later moved into visual art. I’m mainly a photographer, but I work in a multidisciplinary way—photography, collage, installation, film. The way I usually work is by identifying a topic or subject I want to respond to or engage with and then allowing that topic to guide how I approach it—whether that’s through photography, film, or another medium.
I’ve worked in Los Angeles, Beirut, and Artsakh, among other places. I began photographing in Artsakh back in 1999 or 2000 and continued that for many years. The medium I use depends on what the project demands—sometimes collage, sometimes film. I actually got into film while working in Beirut. I went there intending to photograph, which is what I usually do, but I was deeply moved by hearing Western Armenian spoken there—the same dialect I spoke as a child before being displaced from Beirut. It was deeply resonant for me.
That particular dialect of Western Armenian, the one you hear on the streets of Beirut, is incredibly specific—you don’t really hear it anywhere else. I wanted to capture and convey that somehow. The only way I could do that effectively was through film, particularly because of the importance of sound. That’s when I really started working in a way that combined image and audio—still images that move, sound layered with meaning. The films I make are often part of a larger project—interconnected with photography, installations, and more. They all speak to the same topic in different ways.
Balin Schneider: I’d say in a similar vein, I work across several genres too. I’m primarily a journalist, but I’ve always been drawn to documentary work. My interest in Armenia really emerged from everything that was happening there recently. I began locally reporting on Armenia and noticed that, at the time, the major news cycles were predominantly focused on Ukraine and Israel-Palestine. It felt like what was happening in Artsakh was being completely overshadowed and pushed out of the public eye.
So, with this film, the idea was to create something that would not only document what was happening but also present it in a way that made it accessible and emotionally resonant—something digestible as a news piece but with the depth of a documentary.
Armen Karaoghlanian: I was going to ask how you became aware of the situation in Armenia, but I’d love to know—how did you come across K’nar as a subject? How did you first get introduced to her?
Balin Schneider: First of all, K'nar is an amazing photographer. That was one of the first things that struck me. We found her through a nonprofit called the Hidden Road Initiative. I knew I wanted to focus on a younger person. When it comes to war, conflict, or refugee experiences, it can sometimes be hard—especially for younger audiences unfamiliar with the issue—to connect emotionally. But if you center the story on a young person going through it, it becomes easier to relate to.
We met with maybe 15 or so kids, but when I met K'nar, I knew almost instantly. She had taken these striking portraits of her village—photos that are online somewhere—and I was blown away by her desire to document what was happening and to do so with a strong artistic sensibility. That combination of artistry and insight made her really compelling.
Armen Karaoghlanian: I’d like to shift a bit to the collaborative process. Ara, you worked on this film with Micheline, who couldn't be here tonight. Because the film is so layered and unique, could you talk a bit about how that collaboration worked and what the creative process was like?
Ara Oshagan: Absolutely. Micheline Aharonian Marcom is an award-winning author—she wrote Three Apples Fell From Heaven about twenty years ago. When the Artsakh disaster and displacement occurred, I had just seen her again in Philadelphia. We talked about collaborating—she was deeply moved by what was happening and felt compelled to do something. I had been working in Artsakh since 1999—creating a book, doing installations—and I knew many people there. Suddenly, they were all displaced. So we decided to collaborate on a project.
We organized efforts with people in Armenia to conduct oral histories, collecting accounts of the experiences of displaced artists. The text you saw during the film comes from her work with oral histories. It’s been a deeply enriching collaboration because it adds so many layers. As you all know, this is a very complicated issue, with a long, dense history, multiple layers, and so many different angles to consider.
My photography and film, combined with her oral history work, created a richly textured narrative. We worked closely together to structure the film, which is presented in three channels. The format itself reflects the issue—it’s fractured, displaced. The medium inherently speaks to the kind of fragmentation and displacement the community has gone through. There are three things happening at once, and the way it’s structured mirrors that sense of fracture and loss.
Symbolism plays a big role throughout the film. Some moments are direct, with people speaking to the audience, but other nearby images provide the context to tell the story. The darkness, emptiness, and silence they feel—and, in many ways, that we feel—come through in the visuals. My ancestors were displaced from Western Armenia, and I was displaced from Beirut, so there is a very visceral connection to these experiences. This connection shaped the way we told the story, not just what we told.
We tried to convey the layered emotions of displacement—not only through the accounts themselves but also in the way we presented them. The darkness and silence speak as much as the words.
Armen Karaoghlanian: Just going off that topic and the theme of displacement, in our conversation we talked about how often there's a tendency to frame things as separate events—like there's the Genocide in 1915, and then there's Artsakh. But what I and many others really feel is that it’s not a case of "then versus now." It’s a continuation. The tragedy hasn't stopped; it has evolved and persisted over time.
So I’m wondering—did you have those sentiments in mind while making the film? Were you thinking about displacement not just as a historical event but as an ongoing reality and tragedy that Armenians continue to face?
Ara Oshagan: One hundred percent. First, there's a political reality: the same nation-state responsible for the Genocide is still involved in what’s happening now in Artsakh. That continuity is undeniable. But also, on a very personal level, the experience of displacement and the inability to return—of being unable to return, of not having the right to return to Western Armenia, where my ancestors are from—has deeply motivated much of my work, especially with Genocide survivors and displaced communities.
When I’m photographing Armenians in Erevan who were just displaced from Artsakh, it echoes the displacement of my grandparents and their families. It's not just Beirut—it’s Syria, Iran, Armenia, again and again. It’s a pan-Armenian experience. There’s a global network of displacement and longing for return, and that sense of continuity was absolutely a driving force in this work.
Armen Karaoghlanian: Balin, as someone who isn’t Armenian, going to Armenia and filming this project—what was that like for you? Were there any surprises or challenges along the way?
Balin Schneider: A big surprise? Armenians drive fast! That was a bit of a shock. But honestly, in terms of the experience, it was beautiful. The overarching theme I observed was resilience. That word defines the Armenian people. We saw it in all the films presented, and you see it in daily life there.
As a journalist, objectivity is key, but I come from a family with displacement in its history too—my late grandfather was Palestinian and came to America in the 1950s. The similarities between his experience and what Armenians are going through felt familiar. But I also noticed the Armenian experience is uniquely shaped by cultural and political ignorance, particularly from the U.S., which continues to support Turkey.
So as an American journalist, I felt I was part of that complex history. But on the ground, it was incredible. Knar and her family were so welcoming. Even cab drivers would share their stories. It made the whole experience easier, and it deepened the project.
Armen Karaoghlanian: How long were you in Armenia for the film?
Balin Schneider: About a week and a half. It wasn’t long, but it was enough to make meaningful connections and capture what we needed.
Armen Karaoghlanian: Wonderful. Let’s open it up to audience questions. I can repeat the question really quickly, in case people couldn’t hear it, just about the differences in genres of the films and how we’re thinking about distribution for this particular film.
Balin Schneider: For my film, it will probably be distributed either on a news site or through USC's Armenian Institute on their YouTube channel. Unfortunately, the short documentary genre has lost a lot of funding and many publishers over the years, which has made it much more competitive. Finding a publisher is significantly more challenging compared to, say, a feature documentary. But it should be out soon—or at least, we’re in talks. That’s what I can share for now.
Ara Oshagan: I think it’s great that Armen selected these two films, which are radically different in genre yet overlap in so many ways, both directly and indirectly. It was wonderful to see how they complemented each other, and I was really happy to be part of this.
Our film is kind of experimental, and in fact, we are currently working on a longer version. The current runtime, about five minutes or so, feels too short for the material we have—we have so much more to share. As you saw, every person we met, whether in Artsakh or elsewhere, would show us images or videos on their phone—photos of their village, their town, their homes, even video recordings of their last moments there. These visuals tell the story in such a unique way that it demands a more expansive and layered treatment.
So, we’re working on an exhibition that will include the film’s longer version, photographs, text, reflections, and a multidimensional installation—something immersive, no doubt. One of the key challenges for me has been figuring out how to connect the material from before the displacement with what came after. How do we speak about that experience, and how do we create a narrative that bridges these moments of disconnection? It requires a multidimensional approach.
The longer version of the film will likely be around 12 to 15 minutes, and while we’ll try to put it on the film circuit eventually, it’s truly meant to be part of a larger audience experience—a chance for people to engage deeply with the issue and gain a broader understanding of the story.
Armen Karaoghlanian: I have a final question before we wrap up. Given your respective backgrounds—Balin, as a journalist who has made documentaries and is now venturing into somewhat new ground, and Ara, as a multidisciplinary artist who has worked on film projects but is exploring new storytelling methods—I’m curious about what each of you is working on now or planning to work on next. Whether it’s film-related or not doesn’t really matter, but I’d love to hear where you see your career heading and what audiences can look forward to from you.
Balin Schneider: Next, I’m working on an Iraq War-era feature film, which I think I can mention—it’s what I’m legally allowed to share at this point. I’m also working on a love story documentary featuring a really fascinating musician. Beyond that, I’ve been busy filming and writing, always brainstorming new ideas. I’m definitely staying engaged in the Armenian conversation, and I’m currently writing about it for my column as well.
Ara Oshagan: With our work on displaced artists from Artsakh, we've made three trips to Armenia so far, and we're planning to return at least twice more to collect additional material—video, portraits, and more. I've already taken over 120 portraits of displaced artists, possibly even more by now.
At the same time, another project that’s emerging for me is a book featuring portraits of genocide survivors. I began that work back in the 1990s with my friend Leon Paran. Now, while I'm making portraits of currently displaced artists, I'm struck by the deep parallels—not just on a personal level, but also from the perspective of art-making itself. These themes are interconnected, and that connection is driving both projects forward.
The book is progressing, and I have a couple of exhibitions scheduled for the fall. But the major project I’m looking ahead to is something I hope to begin next year. I had planned to start it last year, but the situation in Artsakh understandably shifted priorities. The project involves traveling to Turkey and working extensively in Western Armenia, visiting places that hold personal and historical resonance for me. There, I intend to create a new body of work that continues this exploration of memory, displacement, and identity.
Armen Karaoghlanian: Thank you both for being here, thanks for your time!
Media List From Discussion
