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This film is set against the backdrop of a border war, focusing on the creation of my personal family footage. It explores the unique value of imagery in restoring and presenting local individual and family memories. Through the development of this film, it reveals that family imagery is not merely a tool for documentation, but also a medium for emotional connection and memory-sharing among family members. While preserving memories, it also conveys emotional bonds between the family and the broader society. Through emotional narratives and an intimate perspective grounded in individual memory, family imagery effectively fills the gaps left by official war narratives. It offers a new methodological approach to the holistic preservation of local memory, while also underscoring the importance of integrating personal emotion into artistic creation.

As a member of the Miao ethnicity filming a documentary about the Miao immigrant community, the core significance lies in using an "insider's perspective" to achieve the accurate preservation of cultural memories and the in-depth transmission of emotional resonance. It is not only a cultural reflection on one's own ethnic group, but also a unique bridge to tell the true story of Miao immigrants to the outside world.

We're stubborn kids born and bred in the Northeast, where favors and connections reign. When
we enter the adult world and realize we'll always be the ones who get the short end of the stick,
we find ourselves hesitating before many things.
We want to tell the story of a fledgling girl in an East Asian family, wrestling with confusion in
those hard-to-discern moral gray areas—not the clear-cut rights and wrongs. We want to speak
of understanding as much as divides; about fear as much as surrender—and finally, about an
unyielding nature that refuses to be broken.

Presented as a first-person autobiography, the story recounts “David” with Dawei, from birth until they parted ways. For millennials, fragmented narratives symbolize stagnation in relationships, while fathers' upheavals make us feel as if time and space are rewinding. How do we find our belonging? Via mixed media, the film merges collage, stop-motion, cyanotype, and AI transfer to depict our "birthmarks". The figurative "I" restarts amidst fragmentation, reviving and reuniting us like twins.

I would like to explore young people’s sense of belonging in contemporary China’s small cities, which is mainly related to three factors: family, peers and future.

Family: In Tairan’s family, the traditional ethics represented by his late father tells him that his hometown is the rural area where his ancestral grave is located; yet as a young man who has long been accustomed to urban life, the hometown in Tairan’s own perception is the city he lives in.
Peers: Repeating his Grade 12, Tairan is different from his classmates. The peers with whom he is familiar have already gone to college and are enjoying a colorful life. The intense sense of separation between him and his peers also affects the boy’s thoughts about his sense of belonging.
The Future: Confusion about identity is a topic shared by both China’s old and young generations. The old generation faced a huge rural-to-urban transition, while the young generation is experiencing the siphoning of small cities by big cities.

"What a horse sees is determined by humans."

On Earth, the moral standing of many figures and the right or wrong of events are ultimately judged and decided by humans. Yet, across different eras, factions, and races, each group operates under its own moment-specific standards of judgment. In the face of collective relative interests, the original truth or inherent righteousness of things often seems to no longer matter.

What is absolute criteria? What is absolute justice? What is absolute wrong? And who has the authority to make these determinations—humans? Or species beyond Earth’s life forms?

We aim to create a modern fable. We merge what humanity sees as one of the cruelest fates—killing someone and going to prison—with one of its most wondrous imaginings—the existence of aliens—in a deeply “localized” way. We ground the image of extraterrestrials, symbols of future and technology, in the primitive soil of a rural village in Southwest China.

We reflect on what impact a sudden encounter with extraterrestrial civilization would bring to this ordinary village, and explore how a group of “villagers” search for self-reconciliation amid the whirlwind of cosmic revelation.

If humans can decide right and wrong on Earth, what about beyond Earth? Beyond the cosmos? Before the eternal turning of fate’s gears, humanity may be nothing more than scattered fragments of meteorite lying across the solar system.

My intention in directing this film is to explore the intersection of family, spirituality, and local belief. Growing up in a spirit-medium family, I witnessed how rituals, possessions, and ancestral memories shape both personal bonds and hidden wounds. Through intimate documentation of my father and relatives, I want to reflect on the fragile space between faith and doubt, the human search for healing, and the invisible ties that connect the living with the departed.

This film explores childhood memories and family spaces through the lens of the basement. By juxtaposing DV footage with modern digital cinematography, I aim to capture the traces of time, memory, and domestic life, observing the subtle shifts in relationships and the spaces we inhabit. The approach is detached yet intimate, presenting the ordinary and the ephemeral with a reflective gaze.

This movie is themed around dementia. It abstractly depicts the intermingling of past and present memories from the perspective of someone living with dementia. We attempted to express time and memory visually.

I created it with the aim of using famous movies as examples to learn about filmmaking in a fun and entertaining way.

I wanted to tell a human story about relationships through the lens of abstract cosmic beings. The dynamic between Sunder and the Giver can be read as that of partners, friends, family, or even a religious bond. The abusive element emerges when one party realizes the other depends on them and exploits that dependence for their own gain.

The director’s intention is to create an allegory of the seven days of creation in the Bible, narrating the beginning of the Anthropocene, when humans begin to control nature and experience its consequences.

Sweet Bunch of Daisies represents a personal exploration of my filmic style. The story grew out of some of the most meaningful friendships I’ve been fortunate enough to experience as well as my personal desire to shed light on the topic of abortion. Many of the character interactions and conversations are drawn directly from my own life. At its heart, the film reflects the complex, often unspoken commitment we make to those we love: Standing by them through grief, again and again, no matter how difficult.

I was inspired to write The Starter after hearing a Bruce Springsteen song where he described receiving a 'union card and a wedding coat' for his nineteenth birthday following his girlfriend’s unexpected pregnancy. I was fascinated by how young parents are forced to grow up overnight and set aside their own dreams. However, it was my love and respect for my own parents, who sacrificed so much for me throughout my life, which carried me through this project.

My intention was to capture the contrast between John and Maria’s 'summer months'—when they are innocent and intoxicated by young love and a dream to move to California—and their 'winter months,' when reality sets in and they begin to feel the full weight of parenthood.

With The Quiet Embers, I want the audience to experience how being there for someone doesn’t have to be a grand gesture or a perfect speech—it can be as simple as showing up and being present. True connection is not about searching for the “right” words, but about listening with the heart.
I chose to spend much of the film’s pacing with Thea as she wrestles with the expectations she places on herself—her desire to comfort, her fear of failure, and her struggle with vulnerability. Through this, I hope viewers recognize that we all stumble, we all misstep, and we all carry emotions that can overwhelm us.
The sound design also plays an intentional role in shaping the film’s emotional arc. The opening and closing sounds are tied to Lyra’s trauma and the uncertainty she faces. Even if we haven’t lived the same experiences, we all endure struggles that test us and, ultimately, shape us. By stripping away visuals and focusing solely on sound, I wanted to give the audience a chance to settle into the story and have a moment of commonality, where even something as simple as sound can lay the groundwork for resilience and connection.
Ultimately, my intention is for the audience to walk away with the understanding that while everyone processes pain differently, the emotions at the core are universal. In those shared feelings, we discover we are never truly alone.