A few years ago, a friend and I were discussing the fundamental struggle of language to communicate fully. It felt like a tragedy, being rendered in rough strokes, and I kept thinking about the asymptotic nature of so many of our pursuits. This raised the question: what would it even be like to communicate perfectly, and would that even be desirable?
Much of my work as a storyteller is an attempt to circumvent the walls that audiences erect, to navigate language, image, sound, and emotion toward more effective exchange. It can feel circuitous and nebulous, but that’s where the art lies — in the striving for subjective authenticity and vulnerability in hopes of deeper connection and shared meaning. I think many of us began this way, wanting to affect others the way we were once affected. It's a flawed, human grasp at the asymptote.
As a self-taught filmmaker, editor, and photographer, I began in pursuit of aesthetics that resonated with me — those of films from East Asia and the diverse cultures here in NYC. Cutting my teeth professionally meant trying to center the human element in the scope of the work. As I continue, I'd like to move beyond aesthetics into stories centered on displacement, identity, and class, and take bigger risks to that end.