Imagine you’ve just finished a long day at the o5ice. You’ve come home to start cooking dinner and start settling down for the evening. Now – imagine your eight-year-old son absolutely yapping your ear o5 about every single known fact about the Titanic at the dinner table. Well, this was the reality for my parents. I mention this because – as you could probably guess – the Titanic was what got me into filmmaking. I was obsessed, and I mean obsessed, with the story of the ship, and so my little eight-year-old brain decided that if grown adults with millions of dollars could make a story about the ship, then so could I – obviously. So that’s what I did – I had a full shipyard in my living room, producing models of the Titanic out of cardboard and construction paper for all my shoots. Mind you – I’m shooting a ship’s sinking, so naturally, there were plenty of versions of my ship. I made so many versions of the Titanic that it would put the real-life Harland & Wol5 shipyard to shame. Now, at this point of the story, we’re still in the pre-production stage of my film, even though my little eight-year-old self wouldn’t understand what that meant for another decade or so. I would test, plan, test again and eventually I was ready to shoot. Luckily – my mom had a phone with a camera and iMovie, which was all I needed. So as the young producer, director, dp, and editor that I was, created my first movie: The Sinking of the Titanic (in my kitchen sink). It was a hit! All the aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. got copies and loved it (or so they said). All of this is to say that, even from a young age, I was practicing the workflow of a storyteller and specifically, a filmmaker.

Since then, I decided that I should take filmmaking much more seriously and go to school to learn from professionals, which has worked out well for me. I was fortunate enough to be accepted into the cinematography concentration at Temple’s film school during my sophomore year, and since then, I’ve learned and grown very quickly as a DP. I was fortunate enough to have the chair of the cinematography department invite me to the program and teach me so much along the way. I absolutely love talking about cameras, lenses, codecs, etc. (and could do so for hours), so this is definitely the niche for me.

Growing up, I played nearly every Pokemon game on my DS with my brother. I would always get lost in the caves and complain to him that it was too hard. Without hesitation, he would grab my DS out of my hands and get me out of any sticky situation. I still think to this day, I have not beaten more than two whole games by myself, but it was still a lot of fun. This sparked my first dream to become a game designer. However, I realized the amount of programming that is required for this profession, so I decided to stick to losing ranked games with my friends.

As I got older, I started to watch movies, specifically animated movies that my mom would put on like Ponyo and Kubo. All of the motion, colors, and personality behind characters that were not real people felt magical to watch since she would not allow me to watch Spongebob because it would “rot my brain.” It was like a drug. This sparked my undying loyalty to the art of animation that inspires much of my work till this day, and of course, I wanted to then become an animator. I quickly pivoted from this because I realized I was not stellar at drawing and too lazy to learn these overcomplicated softwares.

I was left at a mid-life crisis (I was 14), not knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up. I couldn’t become a professional athlete because although I was a strong defender in soccer, I was not fast enough to chase down the track stars (14 year old boys). I couldn’t become an astronaut or scientist because my brother took all of the smart genes. After years of questioning who I was going to become in the future, I finally landed on what I wanted to do. I wanted to edit anime scenes on Instagram. Unfortunately, there was not a major for that in college, so I settled on becoming an editor, which is ironic because Premiere Pro is also an overcomplicated software.

Now, in the present, I am finally comfortable in my own skin and talent. My time following the post production track at Temple University has reassured me that this is what I want to do now that I am almost all grown up. I love collaborating with directors to bring their visions to life and being on set as DIT or as Scripty. Since I am an editor and live in a dark cave accompanied by my two monitors normally, I am super excited to take a more pre-production approach during my time at JTwo and go outside! I am looking forward to expanding my skills and connections for this term and I am sure I will continue to grow, but hopefully this time I don’t pivot back to being a professional athlete.

When I think about storytelling, I don’t imagine grand revolutions or overnight changes. Instead, I picture movement—slow but steady, inch by inch. I believe every storyteller holds the power to push the world slightly in a positive direction. A single film may not instantly change someone’s mind, but stories accumulate. One voice joins another, and together they move us further than we could alone.

This belief is what anchors me as a filmmaker. Ironically, even as my heart belongs to stories, I’m currently pursuing a Master of Behavioral Decision Sciences at the University of Pennsylvania. Why? Because I care about the real obstacles that stories face in reaching audiences. Stories don’t just live in a vacuum; they collide with economics, psychology, and access. My experiences as a student producer and as a distribution intern taught me that producing and strategy matter just as much as creativity. Supporting filmmakers, breaking down barriers, and connecting stories with the people who need them is where my passion lies. I want to understand not just how to tell a story, but how people receive it.

That curiosity about reception also comes from my own journey across cultures. Growing up in Beijing, studying in Geneva, training in film production at Boston University, and working briefly in Hollywood all showed me how context shapes not just the stories we tell, but the way audiences respond. Later, at Menemsha Films, I worked with Jewish-centered storytelling in distribution and marketing, a completely new cultural lens that reminded me how cinema changes meaning depending on who is watching. These experiences taught me that stories are never static; they shift and take on new life as they cross borders, languages, and communities.

In Philadelphia, I found JTWO Films, a studio exploring the kinds of stories I care about, projects that combine creativity, strategy, and social impact. Seeing how their work connects with audiences reminded me why I am drawn to filmmaking that balances vision with real-world resonance.

It was this intersection between story, strategy, and culture that affirmed my passion for producing while also drawing me to explore directing, particularly in documentary. My short observational film, Pópo, emerged from a collaboration with the Good Shepherd Community hospice team and explored cultural nuances in end-of-life care. It was not only about documenting reality, but also about navigating taboos, bridging generational divides, and creating space for conversations people often avoid. Directing Pópo confirmed for me that filmmaking is both an art and an act of translation: shaping real experiences into stories that audiences from different backgrounds can connect with.

I don’t yet know exactly what my voice as a director will sound like years from now. But whether through producing, distribution, or documentary, my work will always sit at the intersection of storytelling and strategy, culture and human behavior. Because I believe stories are meant to be carried—like luggage, passed from one person to another—inch by inch, moving us toward something greater together.