Between Fear and Freedom: The Cinema of Lex Melony
Lex Melony is a filmmaker, curator, and activist who transforms deeply personal stories into powerful artistic statements. Originally from Ukraine and now based in London, he creates spaces for visibility and dialogue, bridging East and West through his work. In 2020, Lex founded the production company LEXME.RED, along with the independent film festival One Fluid Night (OFN) — a platform for queer storytelling that is raw, honest, and bold.
In this Travel to Art interview, Lex speaks about memory and identity, love and resistance, and art as an act of freedom. His voice reflects a generation shaped between cultures, between fear and liberation. His work offers a space where people can simply be — unapologetically and without asking for permission.
You’re originally from Ukraine but now live and work in London. How has this journey shaped your identity and creativity?
Growing up in a small, religious town in Ukraine taught me resilience. Everything was closely watched, and being different came with fear. I was a quiet kid with a stammer, and I’m gay, so I learned early how to hide. I spent a lot of time in my own world, writing stories and dreaming big.
Moving to London changed everything. It gave me freedom and a voice. My Ukrainian roots gave me depth, and London gave me the space to express it. You can see both sides in everything I create, from photography to film to programming.
What do you mean when you talk about the “taste for life”?
For me, a taste for life means curiosity, freedom, and not holding back. I feel it when I travel, take photos, make films, or build something from scratch. Whether I’m capturing the essence of a new place or chasing a story on camera, I’m always looking for that moment that makes me feel truly alive. That’s what brings me joy and energy. Or maybe it’s because life is short, and I don’t see a reason to waste it. I can allow myself to be happy, a bit crazy, and fully in love with everything I do.
Many of your works explore desire, vulnerability, memory, and identity. Why are these themes central to you?
I grew up in a place where these conversations weren’t safe. So I make work that allows them to happen. Everything I work on, is connected. Desire can’t exist without vulnerability. Memory shapes identity. I’m drawn to the spaces in between, when people are unsure, exposed, or becoming something new.
Tell us about creating your production company LEXME.RED. How did it start, and what is your vision today?
I started LEXME.RED in 2020 to focus on LGBTQIA+ storytelling. At first, it was just a way to tell my own stories, honestly and without compromise. Over time, it became more than that. Today, LEXME.RED is a platform for collaboration, visibility, and creative risk.
Under its umbrella, I produce short films, run the OFN Film Festival in London, and am about to launch the podcast Queer Spotlight, which shares voices from across the LGBTQIA+ community. There are more projects in the works, growing at a pace I can manage both physically and financially. It’s still personal, but now it’s also shared.
How did the idea for OFN LGBTQIA+ Film Festival come about, and what has it become today?
I created One Fluid Night (OFN) as a one-night event, to show queer films I felt weren’t being seen, the films I wanted to see myself. It was intimate, messy, and full of heart. Now, it’s a full-scale festival with international recognition, but the spirit hasn’t changed. Our festival proudly honoring the biggest number (28, to be precise) Awards for LGBTQIA+ stories in the world. That’s a big achievement. OFN is becoming a powerful space for queer filmmakers, artists, and audiences around the world. There are so many things/work to be done on the way to be more visible, celebrating wider diversity, storytelling, and growing community, the people who are becoming OFN family.
You work a lot with themes of inclusion, access, and visibility. What does being a curator mean to you today?
Being a curator today means creating space for others. It’s not about me. It’s about listening, lifting others up, and showing stories that challenge what we’re used to. It’s about building emotional and cultural bridges, connecting people through shared experiences on screen.
As a queer person, my work is also a statement. Organizing an LGBTQIA+ film festival becomes political, because every choice you make says something. I want my choices to say: you matter, you’re seen.
There are thousands of film festivals around the world, and hundreds focused on queer stories. Each one carries a mission to make voices heard through films, documentaries, animation, and more. But visibility should never come at the cost of quality. That’s my first step in selecting films. Audiences remember what they see, and they won’t forget bad work. Some festivals still make that mistake.
OFN is fully independent. We are not funded by governments or guided by paid agendas. We show what we believe is worth showing. That honesty earns respect from our audience, and that means everything to me.
If you could make a film about a specific city or culture, what would it be and why?
I’ve lived in many cities, but if I made a film, it wouldn’t be about London or Kyiv, even though I love both. I would focus on Ukrainian culture, mixing folk elements with fantasy, and of course, a queer storyline.
Right now, Ukraine is at war with Russia, and there is very little funding for culture. Fewer than 20 LGBTQIA+ films have been made in Ukraine, including shorts, animation, and features. That needs to change.
So yes, my film would be set in a rural part of western Ukraine, surrounded by nature, using the real landscapes as the set. It would be rooted in culture, full of beauty, and unapologetically queer.
Which countries have shaped your views on gender, sexuality, and identity?
Living between Eastern Europe and the West made me question everything — gender, identity, even love. Ukraine shaped my strength. London shaped my freedom. Together, they made me who I am.
I’ve learned from each place, but I don’t fully belong to any. That space in between is where I exist, and where my perspective comes from.
You’re working on your first feature film. What will it be about? What are your creative goals in the coming years?
I’m working on two feature film projects, and they’re connected in some way. It’s still early to share full details, but both explore themes of intimacy, survival, memory, and queer relationships.
I want to tell a story that feels tender and brutal at the same time. Something you can’t easily forget. It’s about what many of us have lived through — restrictions, struggle, hiding, and the inner fight shaped by society’s norms. At the core, it’s also about love and grief, how we hold each other, and how we fail.
My goal is to stay truthful, even when it feels uncomfortable. When the time is right, more details will come.
As for a five-year plan, that’s harder to say. There are many ideas, not enough time. So I’ll keep creating and see which one comes to life first.
How do you see the future of queer cinema in a time of global challenges?
Queer cinema is resistance. It always has been. It’s both fragile and powerful. In times like these, it feels more urgent than ever.
But it’s also growing. I see it through the submissions we receive at OFN. More storytellers are opening up, sharing their lives and truths. Giving them a platform encourages others to create and not hold back.
I believe the future of queer cinema lies in collaboration, care, and refusing to stay silent. We just have to keep making these films on our own terms.
Oleksii Didihurov
