Jānis Streičs

It is with hearts both heavy and full of gratitude that we say goodbye to Jānis Streičs. To know Jānis was to know a man of quiet, profound warmth—a gentle soul whose laugh could light up the dimmest room and whose eyes held a universe of kindness. I’ll never forget the way he’d shuffle into a kitchen, not to take over, but to simply stand beside you, offering a steadying hand or a perfectly timed joke that dissolved all stress. He had this incredible ability to make everyone feel like the most important person in the room, whether you were a fellow artist debating the nuance of a scene or his granddaughter showing him a crayon drawing. Jānis’s passion was storytelling, but his medium was the soul of Latvia. While the world knows him for beautiful, haunting films like *A Limousine the Colour of Midsummer's Eve* and the beloved *Cilvēka bērns* (The Child of Man), we knew the man behind the camera. His set was a place of respect and quiet encouragement. He didn’t just direct actors; he listened to them, finding the truth in their silence. He found joy in the meticulous craft—the way light fell through a window, the perfect cadence of a line, the shared gasp of a crew when a shot came together just right. His films weren’t just submissions for awards; they were love letters to everyday humanity, filled with the humor and resilience he saw in all of us. At home, he was the anchor. Devoted to his loving wife, a proud father whose pride was always quiet but deep, and a grandfather who believed his grandchildren’s stories were the most important scripts of all. Our family gatherings were never complete