I remember standing on my very first professional film set here in Las Vegas. I was 21, doing everything I could as a lowly production assistant to keep things on set moving smoothly and not get fired. The show itself was short-lived, but it still felt like I was standing at the center of the universe.

One day I started a conversation with another crew member who, like me, was a local hire. He was a UNLV film student with one year left before graduation. We were both young, trying to find our footing and wondering what came next. 

“What are you going to do after you graduate?” I asked.

“I'm getting the hell out of here.” He explained how pointless it felt to study filmmaking in a city with no real career path. He loved Las Vegas and was born and raised here, but he didn't see a future for himself unless he left the state. “Are you going to stay?” he asked. 

I didn't have an answer. To this day, that moment still echoes in my mind.

As it turns out, I stayed. In fact, I doubled down on building a sustainable filmmaking ecosystem here in Nevada. Many of us did. For decades, local filmmakers, educators, small-business owners, technicians, carpenters and storytellers worked to build an industry brick by brick. We trained one another, hired one another and shared our scant resources. We created festivals, opened venues and launched education programs to encourage talent to stay. We planted the seeds ourselves, without any meaningful support from the state.

When I started my career, there were no dedicated studios or production hubs in Las Vegas, and nothing that supported creative work at the local level. In 2011, my wife Charisma and I launched Indie Film Factory to bridge the gap.

At first, we decided to create an affordable space for filmmakers. But we quickly discovered there was an even greater need for education — not just about filmmaking, but about the business side of it. We made that our mission. We hosted free workshops and training sessions on everything from cinematography and screenwriting to makeup and stunts. We wanted to help people build skills and confidence so they could grow in their craft and stay here.

We weren't alone. Organizations such as the Nevada Women's Film Festival, the Cordillera International Film Festival in Reno, and the new Desert Waves Film Festival have all played a role in building the film community. Local entrepreneurs have also carried the torch, people such Derek Stonebarger, who founded Theatre 7 to give filmmakers a place to screen their work and host events, and local cinemas such as the late Eclipse Theaters and now The Beverly Theater. And of course, many of us remember CineVegas, which helped inspire an early wave of creative energy in Las Vegas.

These private efforts pushed our ecosystem forward, but passion alone can only take an industry so far. I’ve been lucky enough to make a living making movies by producing other visual media such as commercials and branded films, but most of my colleagues still struggle to find meaningful, long-lasting work in the industry. It’s sad to see that talent wasted. That's why initiatives such as the proposed Summerlin Studios Project are so important.

This isn't about flying in celebrities or hosting red carpets. It's about whether Nevada deserves a modern, diversified economy, one that complements hospitality and gaming while easing the cost of living for working families. The pandemic showed us the danger of relying on a single industry. The images of an empty Strip in 2020 still linger. We said we'd learn from that experience. The creation of Summerlin Studios is one way to prove we mean it.

For those who haven't seen a film production up close, it's easy to assume film incentives only benefit filmmakers. The economic impact reaches far beyond the set. Construction workers, electricians, carpenters, painters, drivers and caterers are among the first to benefit. Local restaurants feed crews. Hotels fill rooms. Prop houses, costume designers, rental shops and educators all see business. I've seen this firsthand while directing a feature film in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a state that chose to invest in film.

My film productions may not benefit directly from the passage of AB238, the legislation that could make Summerlin Studios possible. But what I will see are indirect benefits — more training programs, more skilled technicians and more local jobs.

Beyond the financial reasons, we should invest in our arts ecosystem and creative industries. Right now, if you’re a wardrobe designer, your best shot at steady work is on a Strip show. But imagine if movies were being filmed here year-round. Imagine being a carpenter who loves building sets — suddenly, you’d have real opportunities to do what you love and make a living from it. That’s what excites me about this. It’s not just about the big studios. It’s about growing our creative landscape.

Some critics argue that Nevada should only expand its film tax program if it guarantees a dollar-for-dollar return in tax revenue from the films themselves. While that might sound responsible, it misunderstands how economic growth works. As a business owner, I understand that a healthy company isn’t built on a single revenue stream; it's measured by how many products, services or profit centers it activates and how many opportunities it creates to earn revenue. 

States that embraced film incentives early, such as Georgia, New Mexico and Louisiana, now have thriving film ecosystems. Are these film incentive programs perfect? No. But the benefits outweigh the risks, and the communities that invested early are now seeing long-term rewards.

From what I have seen of Nevada's proposal, it improves on other states’ film incentive models. For instance, the Summerlin Studios plan ties incentives to physical infrastructure, soundstages, training centers and permanent facilities that ensure lasting economic impact rather than temporary gains.

Every year, I meet students, young creatives and skilled professionals who want to stay in Nevada but feel they can't. We're losing homegrown talent not because they lack ability, but because we haven't built an ecosystem that allows them to thrive. We don't lack ambition; we lack leadership to take the next step.

Building and operating Summerlin Studios isn't a political issue. It's a values issue. It asks whether we believe Nevadans deserve to grow, evolve and prosper here, or whether we're content watching our best talent leave for opportunities elsewhere.

We call ourselves the Battle Born state. We take pride in our resilience, our grit and our independence. For years, we've planted the seeds of a creative industry with our own hands. Now is the time for the state to water them so our citizens can flourish.

This is not a Hollywood handout. It's an investment opportunity to double down on creating new jobs, nurturing new industries and inspiring new possibilities for Nevada’s creative economy.  

Kelly Schwarze is a filmmaker and co-founder of Indie Film Factory in Las Vegas.