There’s something strange about watching a woman in cozy pajamas twirl down a city sidewalk while surreal dancers drift behind her in rhythm. It feels like a dream, or maybe the inside of someone’s memory. That contradiction—between private emotion and public display—is what singer-songwriter Ana Luna wanted to capture in her latest visual for the single “Dance in a Trance.”

Shot in sprawling, empty spaces across Los Angeles, the music video unfolds like a moving diary entry. Luna, who co-directed the project with filmmakers Noah Hoffman and Will Curtis, carries the emotional architecture of the song through intimate choreography, masked figures and striking shifts in scenery. 

“The very first image I had was of myself in cozy, homey clothes—something you’d usually only see behind closed doors—but placed in a completely public, open space,” she said. “I wanted to create that contradiction.”

The clip moves in deliberate motion, from wide, almost surveillance-style shots to tight close-ups, a visual metaphor for keeping emotional turmoil contained beneath a composed exterior. 

“It’s that feeling of carrying all these internal emotions while appearing completely fine on the outside—walking down the street or doing mundane things as if nothing’s happening,” she said.

Central to the video’s language is its use of masks, donned by background characters representing Luna’s past relationships. They don’t speak, and we never see their faces. That was by design. 

“For every visual tied to this album, I wanted any person representing ‘the ex’ to be masked—I didn’t want to show another real face,” Luna said. “Partly because the story isn’t about them; it’s about me.”

In Luna’s vision, the masked figures aren’t meant to symbolize loss or even betrayal. They’re stand-ins for unanswered questions and emotional confusion—the space between how someone presents themselves and who they really are. “The masks perfectly represent that unknown: ‘Who the fuck were you? Who are you really?’—and yet you never get the answer. The masks force you to find closure within yourself.”

The decision to use masks is also a device to preserve the video’s internal focus. “It’s not about missing someone or being hurt by them—it’s about what I discovered about myself through those relationships and heartbreaks,” she said.

Co-directors Hoffman and Curtis brought the concept to life through a tight collaboration, working with Luna from the early treatment to final edit. Though it was her debut as a music video co-director, Luna was deeply involved in every step of production. 

“I had a clear vision of how I wanted this video to look and the story I wanted it to tell,” she said. “Will shaped it into a concise treatment. Then, we brought in Noah to help finalize the script and fill in any gaps.”

Some of those gaps led to unexpected visual elements. Luna originally envisioned a warehouse dance sequence, but it wasn’t until Hoffman suggested a mirror cube that the concept solidified. “Will knew how to source it through the production company,” she said. “That detail really made the space feel surreal.”

Filming took place in spaces that matched the song’s sense of emotional displacement. One standout moment shows Luna performing in a makeshift bedroom assembled in the center of a cavernous warehouse. “Honestly, I was so focused on the work and creating the art that the space didn’t affect me emotionally in that moment,” she said. “I was just happy that I was able to bring my vision to life exactly as I imagined.”

But the final scene—the kiss—wasn’t part of the original plan. It was improvised on set, replacing a different ending that didn’t work logistically. “The kiss is actually something I came up with on the spot while we were shooting,” Luna said. “I’d had this idea for another video where I interacted more directly with the mask, and then I thought—why not build that relationship with the mask into every video?”

Interpretation is left open, but for Luna, it’s less about resolution than acceptance. “It was more like a final goodbye—an acceptance that I’ll never know who they truly were. But at the same time, it was also an admission: ‘I don’t know who you are, but I still love you.’”

Throughout the interview, Luna returned to the theme of self-reflection. Her songwriting often involves personal excavation, with little emotional distance at first. “Honestly, I don’t have distance from my art—at least not while I’m writing, and usually not for a long time after that too,” she said. “That’s something I struggle with the most.”

Even when lyrics read like metaphors, they’re often rooted in lived experience. “It took me a while to get enough space from the songs on this album to see them differently,” she said. “Now, they don’t necessarily make me emotional in the same way—they bring more of a bittersweet nostalgia, a reminder of what I lived through and how I’ve grown.”

That introspective style was shaped in part by Luna’s upbringing. Born in Ukraine, raised in Paris and now based in Los Angeles, she carries a hybrid sense of identity. 

“Growing up with so many different cultures made me open-minded, reflective and deeply introspective—constantly wanting to analyze, question and understand,” she said. “That’s very present in my lyrics.”

The international influence also extends to her genre-blending approach. Luna’s music weaves together elements of dream pop, alt-rock and moody piano ballads. “I always write at the piano first, so my songs naturally start with a ballad-like quality,” she said. “But when it comes to production, I gravitate toward dreamy sounds mixed with alt-rock elements—not because I’m chasing genres, but because of the feelings they evoke.”

She’s not interested in crafting one clear identity as an artist. Instead, Luna said she’s drawn to the dualities. “I want my music to feel grand yet raw, cinematic but intimate,” she said. “It’s always about balancing light and darkness.”

Sharing that music, however, didn’t come easily. For years, Luna kept her songwriting private. That changed when someone close to her encouraged her to be vulnerable in a bigger way. “It really took just one person—someone who saw me, believed in me and said all the things I’d always secretly hoped were true, but never dared to say out loud because I thought they were stupid or basic.”

Her debut album, which “Dance in a Trance” will appear on, is still in progress. Luna said the project reflects the period of growth and reckoning she’s lived through in recent years. But she doesn’t see it as a final statement. 

“I always have ideas about where I want my music to go next, but I can’t predict or control what I’ll write about—it depends on what I experience,” she said.

For now, she’s interested in emotional themes beyond heartbreak. “Lately, I’ve noticed I’ve been diving deeper into myself—reflecting on my experiences rather than just the people involved,” she said. “I also want to show other sides of me that have nothing to do with sadness or introspection. Maybe a more wild, carefree Ana Luna will emerge.”

Whether that shift shows up in her next video or an upcoming EP, one thing is clear: Luna’s storytelling will continue to mine the personal, twist it with metaphor and push it into places that feel both universal and strangely intimate.