a documentary by ERICA JORDAN
looking for my anchor
Grief, housing, life on boats, and the search for conection in uncertain times—
with a camera rolling through it all
synopsis
Looking For My Anchor follows filmmaker Erica Jordan, who moves onto a small boat in a low-income community of artists and maritime workers docked on the edge of one of California’s wealthiest counties after a series of personal losses. Unmoored by grief and change, she begins filming life on the water—not just her own, but that of others living anchored out in the bay, building homes shaped by uncertainty, creativity, and the constant threat of being pushed out.
Through storms and stubborn determination, Jordan immerses herself in the lives of a wise, self-described “anchor outlaw” facing illness while trying to keep his boat afloat; a young advocate fighting to save her community from displacement; and an artist whose untimely death underscores the fragility of their existence.
Shaped by humor and heartbreak, Looking For My Anchor is a story of friendship, survival, and the determination to hold on to one another when everything else is slipping away.
The Film's Journey
As housing on land grew out of reach, I found myself among those living on the water, and Looking For My Anchor began there. I was drawn to others who lived on boats as a way of life—on the margins, carving out space to live differently while facing the pressures of unaffordable housing and displacement.
When I received footage of Diane Karasik, an artist who lived and died aboard her boat, I soon realized her story began in Galilee Harbor, the very place I now call home. As I looked through her tapes, I saw reflections of my own life emerging. Around that time, I had been evicted through an owner move-in and had relocated to a small boat. The story shifted as I continued filming, and I realized I was part of the world I had set out to document.
Henry, who lived on a boat falling apart out in the bay, became a dear friend and central to the story. His life changed dramatically when a storm destroyed his boat, and our relationship deepened as we helped each other through hard times. His humor and honesty carried the project forward, reminding me that sometimes the strongest connections form when everything else feels unstable.
I included home movies of my son growing up, intimate moments from early motherhood that echo the film’s larger themes of memory, loss, and transition. Looking back at those scenes opens up questions the film invites us all to consider—what shapes our sense of home, what we leave behind, and what we carry with us.
I made this film as a one-person crew for much of its life, handling the shooting, sound, and editing myself. But more than anything, I made it in relationship, with the people who shared their stories, with the water that carried us, and with the hope that these lives, often overlooked, might be seen more clearly.
Looking For My Anchor is not a traditional documentary. It’s a story that unfolds through lived experience, shaped by the people in it and the place they call home. Rather than offering conclusions, it invites reflection and conversation about what it means to find stability in uncertain times.
