My name is Donelle Calista Titus, and this is a glimpse into my creative journey, how I fell in love with performing, rediscovered my writing, picked up a camera, and found a home in film production. Creativity has always been part of my life, even before I had the language for it. Over time, those instincts grew into passions, and those passions became the work you’ll find here.
Performing Arts
Performing was the first thing that ever made me feel like the truest version of myself. Long before I had goals or understood technique, I was drawn to anything creative. At school, I always chose drama, always wanted art classes, and at home, I sang constantly — not because I thought I was the best, but because it felt natural. Performing was always instinctive.
When I was around thirteen or fourteen, I attended a performing arts school for a couple of years. Looking back, that time wasn’t about refining my skills, but it was about finding confidence. Learning how to stand in front of people, how to exist in my body, and how to be seen without shrinking myself. That confidence began to crystallise when I was given a project that required watching three musicals and writing about them. One of those musicals was Heathers.
Something about Heathers changed everything for me. I had seen the original film, but the musical unlocked something deeper. I became completely obsessed. I started imagining myself on stage, dreaming about playing Veronica or Heather Chandler, and for the first time, I thought: this is it. I didn’t want a backup plan. I didn’t want “something sensible.” I wanted to be on Broadway. I wanted to perform for the rest of my life.
That dream led me to Stageworks School of Performing Arts, where I met Gemma Marinus — someone who has shaped not only my career, but my life. When I auditioned, Gem asked me to sing, perform a monologue, and then tell her what I wanted. All I could say was that I wanted to be on stage, on screen, in front of and behind the camera. I wanted to act in films, TV shows, and theatre. I wanted this life, wholeheartedly.
At Stageworks, Gem introduced me to a class she calls motivational planning — a process that helped me understand my goals on a deeper level and how my personal life intersected with them. She doesn’t just train performers; she helps build people. Often, it felt like she saw things in me that I hadn’t yet learned to see in myself.
Through my first year, I was exposed to every side of performance: acting, singing, stage productions, backstage communication, and how shows truly come together. Somewhere in that process, I realised that I didn’t only love being on stage — I loved what happened behind it. I discovered a pull toward leadership, direction, and understanding the full scope of storytelling. Performing wasn’t just about being seen; it was about creating something meaningful.
I also discovered that singing is real work. It isn’t just about making sound; it’s about training. Singing is like a muscle; you have to exercise it, strengthen it, and learn how to use it properly. It’s also one of the most honest ways I know to express how you feel. I often think back to something an art teacher once told me: if I can walk and I can write, then I can draw, and I can paint. That idea came back to me when I started the art of singing course, especially when Gem said, “Anyone can sing if they know what to train and what to strengthen.”
I was never very good at dancing, and for a long time, I didn’t feel comfortable in my body. But I showed up. I took classes, I practiced constantly, and I learnt to ask for help. Slowly, I began to improve—not just in singing and dancing, but in how I saw myself. I am deeply grateful to Dillonne Pashovski for helping me understand my body as a dancer, and to Bo Molefe, Dillonne, Mullin Krieke, and Bulelo Landman for helping me build confidence in spaces where I once felt unsure.
Performing has done a lot for me. It has given me confidence. I feel like I can do things now that I could not do before. Performing has also taught me to be resilient. This means I can deal with a lot. I have learned a lot about myself through performing. I feel good when I am performing. It is work, and it takes up a lot of time. Sometimes it can be very draining. When I am on stage or on a movie set or even just backstage, I feel happy. I love being in these places. I like to learn and get better at things. It takes time to get good at something. It feels great when I do. I like making people feel things when I perform. I use my voice and the way I move to make this happen. I feel alive when I am performing. Performing is probably when I feel most alive. Performing is not just something I do. It’s become a part of who I am.
I am professionally represented by Talent Etc. Any bookings or enquiries for performing work must be made through my agency.
Writing
Writing has always existed quietly in the background of my life. Even when I wasn’t actively doing it, my mind was always full of ideas, stories, characters, and emotions. When I was younger, I had a huge idea for a story about witches after watching a TV show that captured my imagination. That idea lived in my head for years, even though I rarely wrote anything down. It’s still something that rattles around in the back of my mind.
When I got to Stageworks, I had not written anything for about four or five years. During my first year, we had to make a “short film” for the end-of-year showcase. I had a hard time thinking about what I wanted to do.
One night, I was listening to this song called Verse by Emily Jefrri. Suddenly, it all made sense. The song stirred up memories and emotions from a long time ago, and on impulse, I opened a blank Google Doc and started writing — not knowing where it would go.
What came out surprised me. I wrote a short story rooted in emotion and lived experience, and I shared it with my acting teacher at the time, Carly Graeme. Together, we bounced ideas back and forth, shaping the story into something visual. Eventually, I turned that piece of writing into a short film/music video. Seeing my words translated into movement, sound, and image was one of the most powerful creative experiences I’ve had.
Since then, writing has become how I survive my own thoughts. It’s how I empty my head when it feels too full. Over the last few years, it’s become a way for me to process emotion, memory, and imagination. I find it incredibly beautiful that with just a few words on a page, you can anchor a feeling inside someone else. Writing allows me to be honest in ways I sometimes can’t be out loud.
Getting back into writing is something I owe largely to Gem, Carly, and all of my friends at Stageworx. If they hadn’t seen that part of me and pushed me to explore it, I don’t think I’d be writing the way I do today. Writing is where my inner world lives messy, emotional, imaginative, and real.
Photography
Photography entered my life quietly, the way most meaningful things do. I’ve always liked taking pictures — not for perfection, but to capture moments I found beautiful. It felt like a way of saying, this mattered to me, and inviting others to see the world the way I do.
In 2025, during Born To Perform at Stageworks, I wasn’t involved heavily on stage, but I wanted to be present in the process. I brought my camera to rehearsals and asked Gemma if I could take behind-the-scenes photos. I started with an old Sony camera and occasionally used Ryan’s Canon, documenting rehearsals, connections, quiet moments, and movement.
Photography became another form of storytelling for me — one rooted in observation. When Gemma’s husband, Matt, saw my photos and told me I had a strong eye, it gave me the confidence to take photography seriously. I asked my father (very, very nicely) for a camera for my birthday, and from there, photography became something I wanted to grow and nurture intentionally.
What I love about photography is its honesty. There’s no script — just timing, instinct, and emotion. Whether it’s performance photography, behind-the-scenes moments, or portraits, I’m drawn to capturing authenticity and feeling rather than perfection.
Wallflower Media Collective
Wallflower Media Collective represents collaboration at its most honest. During my time at Stageworks, an old friend, Ryan Fuhr, re-entered my life. Ryan has become like a big brother to me and has been one of the most inspiring creative presences in my life over the last five years.
In 2024, I participated in a 48-Hour Film Festival with Ryan, alongside his brother Sean Fuhr and their best friend Josh King. In just two days, the four of us and the rest of our team created a film that was raw, emotional, and gut-wrenching — and somehow, deeply beautiful. That experience introduced me to a kind of creativity I didn’t know I was missing: intense collaboration, fast decision-making, and collective storytelling.
Soon after, I was invited to officially join Wallflower Media Collective. Today, the collective consists of Ryan Fuhr, Sean Fuhr, Joshua King, Talitha Maree, and myself. Wallflower allows me to merge everything I love — writing, performance, filmmaking, and collaboration — with people I trust and admire.
It’s a space where creativity is shared, challenged, and celebrated. Being part of Wallflower feels like coming home to storytelling in its purest form.
This is who I Am Now
At the core of everything I do is storytelling. I love telling stories. Storytelling is what I am about. Whether it is through performing on stage, writing something, taking pictures with my camera, or making a film, I am driven by how I feel, connecting with people, and being truthful. I really like being in places where I can be creative. This can be on a stage behind my camera, on a film set, or just sitting somewhere quietly making something that means a lot to me. Storytelling is my passion.
I am a creative, and I love being a creative. Sometimes I work by myself. Sometimes I work with other people. I know what it takes to make something from the beginning to the very end. When I am working on something, I put my passion and my heart into everything that I do.
This website is a home for my work, my growth, and the stories I want to tell. And I’m only just getting started.