Spotlight : Michael Rivera

From music videos from a couch in Queens to commercial production teams in Florence, Michael Rivera’s journey as a cinematographer is a testament to passion, hard work, and a relentless pursuit of progress. He’s not just a storyteller; he’s a technician, an artist, and a meticulous organizer. In this interview, Michael shares his early influences, the evolution of his craft, and his unique perspective on filmmaking, from the importance of pre-production to the thrill of pushing creative boundaries.

Starting at the beginning, what were some of your early influences?

I grew up in a single-parent household, so I had a lot of free time, a lot of responsibility to keep myself busy. and I spent it watching music videos. Directors like Spike Jonze and Director X, alt-rock, TRL after school… I was fascinated by how they made those videos. I was also influenced by my mom and the bonding we did over film. We’d watch rom-coms and blockbusters every Friday at the College Point Cinemas. She’d get a big bucket of popcorn for us, and we’d feel as if we were the center of the world.

So, a real mix of influences?

Definitely. But honestly, more than storytelling, I was a bit of a nerd when it came to the tech, the gear, the equipment. I was obsessed with lenses and lighting and angles and motion, it was a disease. Watching Fatboy Slim videos, for example, wasn’t about the story; it was about the technical mastery. It might sound a little ridiculous now that the work we do has seemingly no relation to 90s rap, but there’s a direct tie.

What equipment did you start with?

An old Nikon, or maybe it was a Revel, an old camera my brother got from a friend who was throwing it out. That’s what really got me started filming. Then there was a Sony Handycam my dad left behind before he passed. He was also into tech and photography; he took so many pictures of us growing up. I started with photos because I had a camera, then moved to BMX videos. I have no idea where those videos are now. Just me, driving around on my bike, capturing Queens, running around with the guys, getting into nonsense. Even then, I was trying to capture the feeling of the moment – the chaos, the summer sun and pavement, the aimlessness we felt. How can you tell that story without words? How can you make the viewer feel as if they were on the bike beside you? Or better, in your thoughts with you?

What came next?

Around 2005, I got my hands on better equipment. That’s when I started taking things seriously. I realized my old gear was holding me back and that I needed to invest in myself.

Then I moved out. I was 17, and things were tough with my mom. I worked two full-time jobs—retail and a restaurant—to make ends meet. But I had my camera, and I could do something with it. I started filming car shows, making connections, and finding sponsors. I tapped into the market, telling stories about cars for RIX Magazine. They noticed my work ethic, and that led to bigger opportunities.

What kind of bigger things?

Large events, branding with cars, highlighting the people behind them—not just the vehicles. That’s where the real value is: telling their stories.

So, your first real creative work was in automotive. How did the Sika x Porsche engagement feel, years later?

Michael Rivera: Surreal. The client, the car, the concept—everything. It was a huge show of trust, which gave me a lot of confidence. Growing up in Queens, I never imagined a serious adult would trust me with anything. Now Sika, a $13 billion company, was? It gets me choked up.

You’ve earned it. You’ve talked about the technical side and the storytelling. What about the organization of it all?

A project can easily fall apart if you’re not meticulous with the logistics. It’s more than just putting in the creative hours. It’s knowing the project inside and out—every file, every audio bite—labeling everything properly, organizing everything effectively. Structure is crucial; it makes the overwhelming manageable. That’s where a lot of talented artists fall short. They can be incredibly gifted, but if they don’t take the “back of house” seriously, they become a liability. And, frankly, most do.

So, it’s about both the creative and the logistical?

Exactly. We keep an immaculate house, like an investment banker with their portfolio. Everything is incredibly organized—it’s almost unheard of in this industry. I’m naturally organized, but LMF has zero tolerance for anything less. Clients love it; some artists, not so much.

How important is pre-production and storyboarding?

Crucial. You don’t just show up with experience; you show up prepared, with the right tools to execute. Surgical glass for a clinical look, older glass for something more emotional. Composition, lighting—it all matters. Whether it’s a cutting-edge B2C ad or a more traditional B2B piece, you have to bring the story to life. That’s the only way to ensure it resonates. Once they see the results, they get it. But not before.

You’re self-taught?

It’s been a journey.

What’s so special about LMF?

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen or heard of. It’s a fun, loving, and lighthearted culture—almost disarming, which I think is the point. If you can build a team that’s completely relaxed yet still disciplined and organized, that’s magic. Everyone has a voice, everyone is encouraged to speak up, but no one’s coddled. And because there’s so much appreciation, you never feel defeated when an idea isn’t used. Talent is everywhere here, but it’s the culture that makes this place a powerhouse.

You mentioned pushing boundaries. Still at it? Or getting comfortable with cushy corporate projects?

Never. I’ll always push myself and allow my team and the competition to push me. It’s all about taking risks. I’m still hanging off vehicles, getting unconventional angles, showing people something unexpected. Experimentation, pushing creative boundaries, learning new techniques… it never stops.

So, no danger of getting complacent?

No way. Christian calls it our “witches brew”—the magic behind every project. It’s a love for risk and a hatred of predictability.