The project centered around replicating a memory through stop-motion. At the time, I was
missing home, particularly my room, which prompted me to consider how the space had evolved
up until I left for college. I wanted the film to reflect the childhood association I have with my
room, so I aimed at using materials that reflect childhood nostalgia for me: dollhouse furniture,
paper dolls, stickers, colorful and patterned craft supplies. I wanted to portray my room as more
than just the space that sheltered me growing up and more like a being on its own that reflected
different chapters of my childhood and a place for creative expression. For a lot of us our
bedrooms were the only places that were truly ours. In a lot of ways, it mimics the ebbs and
flows of life. The colors change, furniture shifts around, some things leave, and some things stay
the whole time, leading up to the point we eventually leave that vessel behind. Though this was
originally just created for a class, it quickly meant much more to me. My hope for the audience is
that they can reflect on their own sacred spaces as children, think about how it changed with
them, and how it helped shape them into the people they are today.]]> The narrative follows Chloe as she confronts her desires within a romantic situationship with Anna. Faced with her attraction and fear of intimacy, Chloe must navigate the tension between repression and longing. Her “zombie” operates as an impulsive embodiment of desire; this symbol is built on the preexisting image of the undead in horror media as impulsive. Here, that horror is internalized. The “monster” symbolizes suppressed queerness, visualized through Chloe’s “zombie arm”. First, it's an experience to fear, however as the zombification progresses Chloe gradually understands and accepts this inevitable part of herself.
With this film I wanted to emphasize movement, rhythm and sensory disruption. The Dance sequences externalize Chloe’s desires, translating emotional and sexual tension into physical expression. However, through manipulating the frame rate and strobe lighting, I hope to create fiction between the static and accelerated images, reflecting her instability. Sound design further shapes the transformation with distorted, slowed ambience blended along fluctuating breathing to evoke intimacy and bodily change. ]]> God was a horizon once.
We keep trying to screw Him into the porch ceiling.]]> For many Latinas, hair is an identifier, its texture, color, and length are often points of personal tension. In the United States, Latinas often are pressured to favor Eurocentric beauty standards as means to assimilate. Hair becomes more than appearance but a political act. Where braiding emerges as a meaningful performance of powerful assertion of cultural continuity, resisting erasure and reclaiming visibility.
When invisibility can often feel safer than standing out, these decisions reflect the silent strategies of survival, self-preservation, and resistance. Throughout the making of La Corteza, I interviewed and photographed my participants:
“My hair is typically the only physical mark.”
“When I started embracing my hair is when I felt the most comfortable in my identity.”
“My earliest memory with my hair was asking my mom to style it for me. This was the beginning of an obsession with neatness, which could never be synonymous with natural”
“Being Latin American means balancing both identities... I know I’m both, and I know I’ll never fully be one—and that’s okay.”
These reflections speak to the layered and sometimes painful process of reclaiming culture on our own terms. La Corteza lives in that delicate space between concealment and connection.]]> Italy is often imagined as timeless: a country with a rich history, preserved in marble and stone. I expected the country to be frozen in history, but what I found was something alive and in motion. Streets pulsed with life, laughter echoed down narrow corridors of light, and strangers crossed paths without ever fully meeting.
In these images, bodies stretch into streaks and faces soften into suggestion. Details slip away. What remains are gestures, silhouettes, and light. This mirrors the way memories are carried: not as sharp, factual records, but as impressions charged with feeling. By slowing the shutter, I allowed the camera to record time rather than freeze it. The blur reflects how memories don’t stay sharp; they change and fade over time. We remember the warmth of the air, the glow of streetlamps on stone, the sensation of walking beside someone—but not every face, not every word. ]]> The photographs emphasize presence over polish. Wrinkles, posture, poses, and expressions carry the evidence of time; of work, love, loss, endurance, and joy. The images visually explore what each participant discussed in her interview, whether through people, props, framing, or light. In this project, age is not softened or disguised; it is allowed to exist fully within the frame. The images are paired with words that reveal how aging reshapes one’s relationship to the self.
One woman described the moment she first felt old: “The first time I knew I was old was after I fell by simply just walking up my driveway and nearly broke my foot. I thought, ‘Oh God, the time has come. I’m old!’ That moment stuck with me; knowing my body wouldn’t bounce back like it used to. The journey to acceptance isn’t easy, it’s almost like a prolonged denial that I’m getting older. But adapting and taking my time and paying closer attention to my body has made me feel closer to it in a way. I double knot my shoes now, wear a brace by choice, and take life a little bit slower. But slow is not bad. Slow is intentional, slow is careful, and can be beautiful if you let it.”
In a culture that often stigmatizes older women as invisible, incapable, or burdensome, these portraits tell a different story. The women photographed here are thoughtful, humorous, reflective, and generous with their insight. Beauty emerges not from youth, but from wisdom.]]> My work is shaped by longing and control, by the desire to be taken seriously, to be seen as a woman, and by the feeling that this visibility has never come naturally. I have built my identity around humor, masculinity, and performative confidence as strategies for authority, while the women in my images seem to occupy their presence effortlessly. Their gestures, gazes, and stillness become material through which I explore femininity as something observed, constructed, and framed.
Through fragmentation, layering, and repetition, I return to these subjects as both observer and maker. The images sit in the space between watching and constructing, between admiration and distance. They are attempts to hold onto something that feels visible yet unreachable, to examine how identity is performed, projected, and controlled within the photographic frame.]]> Inspired by the works of Jewish artist Hannah Altman, this project explores the significance of Jewish tradition and memory. Growing up in a Jewish household, my religious identity has always played an important role in my life. The traditions. The prayers. The food. I hold all of it closely to my heart.
What I hold especially close to my heart are the Jewish women in my life.
In my work, I capture the Binah that these women exhibit. From my grandma, who intuitively slices challah bread, to my mom, who carefully lights the Shabbat candles, they each express unique feminine energy. I highlight this energy through family photos and original work, focusing on physical traits, symbolic objects, and a bat mitzvah ceremony.
It was impossible to pick a single aspect of Jewish female identity to focus on. Instead, I peeled apart the layers that make up Jewish girlhood and womanhood. The physical characteristics. The comforting recipes. The sacred traditions. And at the center of it all, the Jewish women before me who passed down Binah.
Binah displays Jewish women and their extra understanding, spiritual truth, and divine wisdom. ]]> The athletes who participate in Fight Night train for twelve weeks while also visiting families at MU Hospital whose children are undergoing treatment. Their preparation extends beyond the ring, grounding the event in its true purpose. The techniques used to shoot this piece like the harsh lighting and shadows solidifies these athletes as symbols of the organization's mission . The athlete’s preparation for their match aims to develop empathy with the children and families they support. These kids and families are facing battles far greater than any one night in the ring. This work exists to shine light on that reality. ]]> I am photographing with a large format film camera. This period appropriate imaging tool visually supports the genre while allowing me to approach the subjects with a high degree of control. My goal is to examine the scenes and objects away from their romanticized context, curbing the subliminal ways that we interact with similar imagery. Each photograph is a 1:1 contact print, hand made in a darkroom from a film negative. This reflects my commitment to careful and involved image making.]]> out of my head and materializes into the real world.
Everything I make is because of the people around me, whether intentionally or unintentionally.
I believe in doing things just because I can. ]]>
Outside of florals, this piece is made up of reusable materials, depicting the ephemerality of our planet. The florals encapsulate the globe in a fiery, saturated color scheme with reds, oranges, and yellows. The bright roses, golden sunflowers, and abstract birds of paradise elicit a passionate scene against the greenery. The flowers, usually representing life, become a visual representation of wildfire, climate crisis, and ecological instability.

Within the smoke, fragments of leaves and landscape appear like warnings, shifting into a glimpse of ecosystems disrupted, habitats disappearing, and communities displaced. Created from raffia and grasses, the organic framework suggests that nature is trying to persist but is overwhelmed by human negligence.

As artists and plant scientists, we use floriculture as a medium to speak about environmental responsibility. Burning World asks viewers to confront uncomfortable truths: human progress often comes at nature’s expense, and our planet is showing signs of irreversible damage. This piece serves as a call to action, urging reflection on how individual choices shape global outcomes and challenging us to reconsider our roles as stewards of Earth. ]]> This entertainment venue at the corner of Hitt and Cherry Street is a vertically integrated hub for cinematic, musical, and creative arts, designed as a fully rentable venue for festivals, student organizations, local businesses, and community groups.The building is envisioned as a civic anchor, a space that invites gathering, learning, and interaction.

The ground floor features the lobby, first floor venue, and a separately accessible bar. The second and third floors each contain a 135 person cinema fitted with a small stage for screenings, speakers, and musical performances. The fourth floor hosts a restaurant and rooftop bar with views of downtown Columbia to the East. The fifth and sixth floors serve as creator suites equipped with recording studios, editing offices, and collaborative workspaces. The fifth floor also offers a small private venue overlooking Broadway to the Northwest. Together, these stacked programs create a dynamic destination that supports public entertainment, production, education, and the community.]]> This app investigates how design can function as a stabilizing structure within times of uncertainty. Kinroot reimagines medical information as something that can easily be clarified, organized, and shared collectively. By centralizing all updates in the home feed, simplifying medical terms in the terms section, and providing shared tracking tools in the calendar section, Kinroot reduces reliance on memory and secondhand interpretation almost entirely.
Kinroot is rooted in the fact and understanding that medical experiences rarely affect just one person; they trickle outward through families, friends, and support systems. Designed to be calming, and straightforward Kinroot utilizes nature illustrations and hand drawn icons to counteract the overwhelming reality of clinical conversations. In this app I explore how graphic design can go beyond aesthetics and be designed and motivated for change. Kinroot shows how thoughtful interface design can take overwhelming information and turn it into a shared, straightforward resource for families to go when clarity matters most.]]> The site is located at a bend in the river where barges naturally slow and idle, adjacent to Interstate 70. This positioning allows the facility to leverage existing transportation networks by redirecting recyclables onto empty return barges and underutilized freight trucks. By using infrastructure that already exists, the project reduces inefficiencies while reframing architecture as an active participant in material flow and environmental accountability.
The facility is constructed from mass timber to reduce embodied carbon and allow for prefabrication and efficient transport. The building is elevated to address floodplain conditions, with structural cores anchored into exposed bedrock to provide long-term stability. These strategies respond directly to the site’s environmental constraints while prioritizing durability and adaptability.
A contoured roof canopy is shaped through solar radiation mapping to maximize photovoltaic performance. Its form also diffuses daylight across the sorting floor, reduces industrial noise, and directs rainwater into bioswales for erosion control and flood mitigation. An elevated public path allows visitors to observe the recycling process, making material systems visible and accessible.
Together, these design decisions position infrastructure as both functional and civic, demonstrating how architecture can support environmental responsibility while engaging the public.]]> The name Public Domain signals a rejection of exclusivity, emphasizing accessibility over financial barriers. Public Domain uses social media, physical advertisements, and experiential events such as A Gala for the Arts, to generate donations that are redistributed to galleries, studios, and independent artists across Brooklyn.
The organization’s visual identity is intentionally loud. The logo showcases multiple bold, layered silhouettes of human figures, symbolizing the convergence of creatives into a single, unified community. A vibrant color palette of pink, purple, yellow, orange, green, and blue cuts through the everyday static while paying homage to the color wheel, a foundational tool studied by artists across all disciplines. The merging of these colors within the logo reinforces the idea of unity within the Public Domain community, regardless of medium, background, or skill level.
Contrasting this vibrancy, the use of halftone patterns and black-and-white imagery introduces a gritty, urban edge inspired by the graffiti-covered streets of Brooklyn itself. By juxtaposing high-energy color with photos of intimate studio spaces and galleries, Public Domain positions the viewer not merely as an observer, but as a stakeholder in its creative community who can make a difference for the art world as a whole. ]]>