Life, like the tides that wash through the San Francisco Bay, will ebb and flow. It’s a fact that award-winning filmmaker Erica Jordan has taken to heart over the last few years while living on a 1977 boat called Hardy’s Holiday in Sausalito.

When she moved to Galilee Harbor — a small cooperative of artists, maritime workers and other creatives — just before the pandemic in 2020, she was in the midst of a new chapter in her life.

Her only son Julian, whom she raised as a single mother, had gone off to college at the University of California at Santa Cruz. Jordan and her boyfriend of 10 years had broken up. And she was forced out of her rent-controlled house in San Francisco because the owner wanted to move back in.

Her quest for stability in an unstable world, while starting anew on her boat, led her to create “Looking For My Anchor,” her latest — and most personal — documentary. It reflects on motherhood, loss, grief and creativity.

“At its heart, ‘Looking For My Anchor’ is about transformation — the ways we adapt, endure and find meaning in the spaces between loss and renewal,” she said.

In it, she also turns the cameras on others, like Henry Williams, a self-described “anchor outlaw,” who works to fix up his boat in the bay while battling cancer, and Kim Slater, whose future on Richardson Bay is uncertain because of the crackdown on offshore boat residents. Through an agreement with the Richardson Bay Regional Agency and San Francisco Bay Conservation and Development Commission, anchor-outs in the area must be gone by October 2026.

The film will have its world premiere at the upcoming San Francisco Documentary Festival. It will be available to stream online from May 29 through June 8, and a screening will be at 3:15 p.m. June 1 at the Vogue Theater in San Francisco. More information and tickets ($10 to $18.98) are at sfdocfest2025.eventive.org/schedule.

“What I hope films can do is open up conversations for people to understand each other,” said Jordan, whose film includes archival footage, home movies and video diaries. “I also hope to do that through a personal lens, whether that lens is on myself or other people who you feel connected to in the film and through their stories.”

Ahead of the film’s premiere, Jordan took the time to speak about her work she shot, wrote, produced and directed.

Q In the film, you credit your late mother for your love of storytelling. How did that influence you?

A My mother spent a good portion of her life pursuing a writing career and writing novels. We shared a lot around art. She was originally a dance teacher. I spent a lot of time taking classes from her as a child, and then she went through her own level of grief. After losing her parents and having cancer, she switched over to dedicate herself to writing. Those conversations I had with her were really important in my development of working in the arts and the importance of storytelling.

Q When did you get into film?

A I grew up in Southern California. I came up here and went to College of Marin and took my first film class. That first film played at the Mill Valley Film Festival. It was also about the creative process.

It was the first time that I remember feeling really happy and having joy in my life because high school didn’t feel that way. It felt controlled and not creative. I had taken photography classes, but in filmmaking, it incorporated movement and stories together. I think that brought in that dancer side of me, with the camera, the story and the visual. There wouldn’t be anything else I’d rather do.

Q Was it difficult to tell your story in this work?

A Yes. I’m so drawn to other people’s stories and to being able to have the privilege of telling people’s stories. I really want people to be vulnerable and open up in documentaries because I feel like that is the way for people to be able to connect with the larger issues if they can connect to the person. This time, I turned the camera on myself and really had to challenge my own self to open up and be vulnerable.

When I started making it, I first started to look at archival video of Diane Karasik, an artist who died on her boat in Sausalito. I saw many parallels between her life and mine. That’s where I began thinking of bringing my story in because her story starts at Galilee Harbor, where I live.My relationship with Henry and Kim and looking at the past while looking inward became a healing process for me as a filmmaker. I’m hoping that resonates with other people when they’re feeling grief or feeling a sense of loss or not belonging, that they can identify with this story.

Q A lot of the film surrounds your friendship with Henry. Tell me about that.

A I first became friends with Randy Bonney, and he introduced me to Henry, and it was such an unlikely friendship. I had no idea how he fit into this as a film or anything. It was just a friendship, and I put the camera on. And we just talked. Usually I have a story I want to tell, but this one, I let the friendship be, and it was healing for me.

He had a lot of connection to Galilee Harbor and its history. It made me feel included in this bigger story. I find a lot of joy in sharing stories that I think are important and haven’t been shared.

I’m grateful that I did find Galilee Harbor and that I am able to live in such a beautiful environment and to be creative.

Q Has being by the water always been healing for you?

A Yes. I grew up near San Diego and close to water, so I’ve always been connected to the ocean and to water. I can’t really imagine living too far from some body of water, because I do think it’s healing. To be in touch with the tide has become important to me.

Q What inspired you to show your home videos documenting your pregnancy?

A I had never looked at them before until recently. Originally, I was going to do this quick montage of my life. I went through it, started editing it down and it was painful to watch myself talking about what I was going through at the time — so many things I forgot about. I showed it to a few people, and they’re like, “You have got to put this in.” I was really just being myself. I wasn’t performing for anyone.

I think watching and editing that footage and reflecting on this other time in my life really cemented this idea of how life is full of chapters. It’s hard to know that when you’re young. You think it’s just going to be hard forever.

I think grief is very much like that, too. It’s so painful when you lose somebody, and it feels so suffocating, and you think it’s not going to go away. And then it does in a way. You’re going to feel moments of sadness, but you’re not going to feel that overwhelming pain forever. The memories are going to be lighter and float in a beautiful way. You can hold them, and it shifts.

I think even the sadness becomes more like a beautiful thing, too, or maybe that’s the beauty of being an artist. That sadness becomes a part of your creativity or a part of your expression. It adds a richness, like I have that depth in me. I have all these different parts, and some of that is sadness.

More information is online at lookingformyanchor.com.