‘Poetry is at the beginning,’ Regina reflects. ‘I was born in a house with a huge library. My father really valued books and painting. He wrote himself, and writing was always important in the house where I grew up.’ Still unable to write, he dictated his first text to his mum, inspired by a visit to a painting studio. ‘I said: ‘Mum, write! Watching someone paint was a very impressive experience for me'.’

Writing has accompanied her ever since, but it soon became intertwined with the political context. ‘I was born at the end of the fascist dictatorship. When I was still in high school, very young, and in a perhaps childish but very sincere way, I felt the need to join the movements that wanted to change the world.’ This activism was marked by people and experiences that taught her to value rigour and critical reading. ‘I was lucky enough to have an extraordinary French and Portuguese teacher. She taught me a lot about self-demand and about reading texts, even in an adverse context.’ And this, as she emphasises, ‘was always a thread that ran through’ her life.

‘Painting also came to me through my father. There were many painters who frequented my family's house, and thanks to that I never stopped drawing. Drawing is a connection between the brain and the hand that I think is constitutive of the most dignified part of the human being. I draw because it's good for me, to stay connected with reality,’ she says.

Her love of handicrafts has grown and taken on new forms of expression over time. ‘Recently, I started making rugs out of reused plastic materials and embroidering. When my mum saw me embroidering, she was very surprised. I've always been averse to all needlework, perhaps because in some way it represented the submission of women. On the other hand, I realised that the act of embroidery, the infinite number of stitches that have to be made, is an apprenticeship in modesty and also some distraction. I started when I gave up smoking and it works a bit like a mantra. It frees up space in the brain for reverie, for daydreaming.’

“Film teaches you to observe things”

The connection to cinema came from living with Saguenail, his partner. ‘I don't make films, but I create something I call videographic notebooks. The arrival of video gave me a more immediate relationship, something different from film.’ Together they created Hélastre, which Regina describes as a peculiar entity. ‘Hélastre is not a production company like the others. It was set up to manage the resources from our films, but occasionally it also sponsors friends' projects in cases of great solidarity.’

This relationship with cinema has expanded into film club work, an activity that reflects their passion for sharing their view of films. ‘Being a filmmaker isn't just about making films. It's about showing other people's films, bringing people to the cinema and valuing it. We organised film clubs for 12 years at Serralves and, more recently, we resumed this experience at Casa Manoel de Oliveira. But we also run smaller and sometimes less publicised film clubs.’

Regina believes that cinema is a collective art that transforms. ‘As spectators, we are not just people who watch films, but people who are watched by films. Films visit us, books do too, but cinema is more immediate. When people lose their fear of talking about cinema, they realise that films awaken questions about themselves that they had never considered and about the world. Cinema teaches you to look at things, to broaden your sensory, emotional and intellectual perception. And that's very beautiful.’

Porto and its storyboards

For Regina, Porto is an essential space in her creation. ‘The walks through the city, with the checkered floor, are my first storyboard: looking at the ground. During lockdown, I was fascinated to see the plants breaking through the concrete. These little things are my forests.’

Despite her close relationship with the city, she regrets the changes caused by gentrification. ‘I have nothing against tourists, we are tourists in other places. But this model has erased things that made Porto a unique place. I remember people from Lisbon coming to Porto to buy things that hadn't been available in the centre of Lisbon for a long time. And now there aren't any here either. Today, to buy a nail, you almost have to go to Leroy Merlin, and that's sad.’ Even so, Regina remains hopeful. ‘Porto has always been a place of departures and arrivals. That remains its essence.’

There still hope — and a will — to forge a better world

In her future prospects, Regina wants to write ‘an effective speech’ against the war. ‘There has to be strength of thought to sweep this away. To realise that this is absolutely unbearable. It takes my sleep away. I don't think it's normal for people to think it's ‘cool’ to fill ourselves to the teeth with weapons. When I think of people being caught with bombs on them... it takes my breath away.’

Regina is critical of the pressures imposed by contemporary society. ‘The idea of progress distorts everything. Life is not an evolutionary process. There are hard moments and terrible losses, but there are also good moments that come afterwards. The biggest challenge is to fight bitterness. There is always a place for sadness in life, but sadness can be a path to bitterness. Bitterness is a putting down of arms, and we don't have that right.’ This vision feeds into projects that promote change, including working with people in lockdown. ‘Working with people in prisons is a rewarding experience. These people, considered bad, are just like us. We have so much to learn in this universe.’