Trickster Magazine

Before the international shoots. Before LA. Before the 40-page treatment written for Yeezy. There was a kid in Kohtla-Järve who filmed everything. 
Martin Pihlap’s story doesn’t begin with a breakthrough moment. It begins with documentation – friends freestyling, strange summer days in abandoned buildings, the quiet rhythm of a small town turned into raw material. Curiosity became obsession. Obsession became craft. Craft became ambition.
Now collaborating across borders and developing new projects with global production companies, Pihlap speaks less about hype and more about precision, discipline, and the search for simplicity – the kind that takes years to master. At 24, he’s not chasing scale for its own sake. He’s building bigger because the ideas demand it.

I was born and raised in Kohtla-Järve in a Russian-speaking family. When I was five, we moved to a house in Kukruse, a small settlement nearby. As a teenager, I spent a lot of time alone in nature – the forest was a ten-minute walk from our home, so wandering there became part of daily life.

One summer in fifth grade, I started hanging out in abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town – listening to music, smoking cigarettes. Every day felt like a strange new story. I kept it hidden from my parents – to them, I was the “good kid” with perfect grades.

I really love my hometown and the people I’ve met there over the years. Every time I come back from Tallinn or abroad, I enjoy walking the same streets. Kohtla-Järve feels like a base for me – everything is familiar, yet something has changed every visit.

Definitely. I live here at the moment, and all of my family members are here as well, so the connection is very strong. I also love it when some of my friends happen to be in town – we can walk the familiar streets together, just like we did during our teenage years.

As a kid, I thought filmmakers were almost scientific geniuses – completely unreachable. I didn’t understand it was a collaborative process. It felt impossible, far beyond me.

Everything changed when I got my first iPhone 5s in eighth grade. I was instantly obsessed with the camera quality. During a school event rehearsal, I randomly pulled out my phone and started filming my friend through a half-full Sprite bottle. I told him, “Imagine you’re drowning in this water.” That’s the first intentional video I clearly remember making. I downloaded a random editing app and started adding music and titles. I started filming more and more and felt like I needed to put it somewhere, so I created an Instagram account for these videos and began posting.

Around the same time, I discovered Optimus Gang sketches on YouTube. I was amazed by how DIY, absurd, and fun they were, and it really inspired me. I decided that we should also try filming longer sketches with some kind of narrative. At that point, there were more than ten of us – friends from two different schools – just walking around town and filming everywhere in our free time.

In high school (2017–2020), I got used to constantly recording on my iPhone whenever I was with friends, and I started documenting everything: everyday miracles, friends’ rap freestyles, and random moments of life. I also discovered AWGE DVDs and was fascinated by the editing style, so I tried to create my own version of that kind of compilation.

I filmed all of this throughout my three years of high school. Then I went to the military. Toward the end of my service, I finally had time to edit all the footage – I even brought my PC setup with me. After the military, I released a two-hour documentary divided into five episodes, each around 20 minutes long.

In the beginning, I was just experimenting with everything I could in Premiere Pro. I watched tons of videos about After Effects transitions and tried anything I saw online. At first, I was obsessed with editing tricks and VFX transitions. Later, after I had used almost everything I knew in the Kai Angel Prada Party music video, my focus shifted more toward practical stunts and physical ideas. I’ve always been drawn to directors who combine elements into unusual compositions that catch the eye but still hide something beneath the surface.

Today, I’m much more interested in finding the simplest and clearest way to tell a story – the most concise version possible. There’s an old story about an artist asked to paint the most beautiful fish. He spent ten years studying fish, and when the time came, painted it in a single stroke. What looked simple was built on years of understanding. For me, conciseness isn’t the absence of complexity – it’s the ability to hide it. The fewer visible elements there are, the more important it is that each one of them is placed precisely.

I also like it when craftsmanship and technical skill blend with amateur energy and childlike imagination. For me, that’s the ideal balance – when both elements support and complete each other.

I started by shooting sketch videos on an iPhone with friends, documenting everyday life and eventually compiling it into a two-hour documentary released after my military service.

Right after being discharged from the army, my high school producer friend invited me to help on set. It was my first real exposure to how professional production actually works. Around the same time, I enrolled at Tallinn University to study environmental management, but quickly realized it wasn’t for me. I shifted toward filmmaking – shooting backstage content and working on sets whenever possible, often prioritizing practical experience over classes.

Later, a close friend invited me to work as a location assistant on film sets. Around that time, I also shot my first music videos independently. I began editing for a local Tallinn production company, where I met my first DP, whom I later collaborated with on several projects.

A major turning point came when I replied to a single Instagram story by Kai Angel saying, “Filmmakers in the EU, DM me.” Despite having a small portfolio at the time, he replied and invited me to shoot a music video in Milan, which became my first serious project and international experience.

After that, I worked on a few more music videos, both directing and doing post-production. Not long after, I proposed shooting a documentary for Racer Worldwide. The documentary was started but never finished, yet it led to a longer collaboration with Mihhail, which grew into music videos, fashion films, and eventually a reality-format show, Makeover. Through this work, I was noticed by Pulse Films, with whom I’m now developing new projects.

I still hope that one day we’ll actually work together.

I got a phone call from my fellow director friend Nikita Vilchinskii saying, “Bro, finally. We need to make a 60-minute film for YZY. You have two days.” I locked myself in and built a 40-page treatment in two days. Soon after, Ye’s team selected the final direction. The plan was to shoot in several countries, starting in LA.

I flew to LA. The DP, Mark Miller, picked me up from the airport. During the first days, we were waiting for instructions from the YZY team. While waiting, I spent time with Mark on his other shoots, observing the process and discussing casting, locations, and additional ideas for our project.

After about a week, we were told that the campaign had been put on hold and later cancelled.

Two months later, I was watching a podcast with Ye – and suddenly my treatment was on a huge screen behind him.

The Kai Angel music video was probably that moment. It was the first time I felt real recognition for my work, and also my first experience filming abroad – five days in Milan, shooting in different locations, including the Blumarine fashion show. It felt like stepping into a completely different life.

Music doesn’t have borders anymore. Videos can be seen all over the world, which helps build a name and create a foundation for future projects, including feature films.

There’s also a practical side: budgets abroad – especially in the US – can be ten or even a hundred times bigger than what we usually work with here. At the same time, Estonia offers something different – creative freedom. With smaller budgets, it’s often possible to do much bigger and bolder things if you know the right people and locations.

Right now, I’m trying to bring international artists to Estonia, where resources can be used more flexibly and ideas can be pushed further.

I honestly like each project for different reasons. I have a pretty strong imposter syndrome, so it’s hard for me to single out one specific work – when I look back, I can always see things that could have been done better.

But if I had to choose one, it would probably be the Posted music video. We literally built everything ourselves. Everything you see in the frame was real. All our friends were involved in the shoot. We pushed a car off a mountain – and then carried it back up ourselves, fourteen people together. It was maximum DIY. Very similar to how we used to shoot sketches with friends, just on a completely different level.

I turned 24 a couple of months ago.

I really love moments when something clicks. When you realize that a shot was captured exactly the way it needed to be, or when, during editing, a moment suddenly falls into place as if it was always meant to be there. In most cases, it starts as chaos at the beginning – a messy collision of ideas – and then relief when everything starts to make sense in the treatment.

Another important marker for me is a recurring feeling of déjà vu. If I experience déjà vu two, three, or four times during a project over the course of a few weeks, I take it as a sign that everything is moving in the right direction. 

Experimentation is still essential to me – it’s just more intentional now.

A good example is the relight technique used in the Fakov music video. It started as a small experiment shared by the post-production team. At first, it didn’t work because of heavy flickering, but we saw potential in it. After a few months, we revisited the idea and refined it frame by frame, eventually turning it into a distinct, video game–like effect on footage shot on iPhone.

I’m also really glad to be surrounded by younger, creative people who constantly share fresh ideas, tools, and techniques. It helps me stay in touch with what’s happening now in the creative world.

It’s all about communication. Everyone brings ideas, and the best idea should win. Experimentation works only when it serves the vision.

Mostly overthinking.

At the same time, I want to learn how to listen to my instincts and intuition more, and to develop that inner sense instead of analyzing everything endlessly.

Mostly that good things take a lot of time and effort. I keep learning this lesson over and over again. I like to commit deeply to projects and really invest myself in them, but the hard part is that there isn’t always enough time or resources to do things the way I’d like.

That’s why I truly value projects where there’s enough time to get it right.

Discipline and the ability to focus deeply.

My biggest lesson was that pre-production is key. My main goal this year is to finally deliver a strong project with Pulse Films.

Good taste is often seen as a list of “cool” things you’re supposed to like. But what matters more is developing your own taste.

For me, personal taste comes from curiosity – knowing what exists, both what’s considered good and bad – and then choosing what you genuinely like. Not what’s approved or fashionable, but what actually resonates with you, regardless of whether it’s seen as good taste, bad taste, or something strange.

I think the most important thing is simply finding what feels close to you personally and enjoying it honestly. When you do that, it stops feeling like you’re living someone else’s life.

That’s a very difficult question. I don’t think there’s a single “best” music video. Instead, I’d rather share a couple of lesser-known but interesting videos.

Young Moose – True Bill – raw energy 
Why Be – Whalin – atmosphere

My debut short film, working title Undercover Undercover. I plan to make it within the next two years.