Ever since I learned to sail at twelve, I have always felt like a sailor at heart, drifting through life with boundless curiosity and navigating the spaces between cultures and countries. My Chinese name, however, suggests an entirely different lifestyle. Shucheng (树成), meaning a successful tree, is all about rootedness, community, and the specificity of a place. The only qualities that a sailor and a tree share are their resilience and adaptability. Having moved from China to the U.S., from city to city, I spent my teenage years searching for a home away from home but eventually settled for the comfort of being fluid and in-between. I make one-room films with minimal dialogue to evoke empathy without linguistic confines. But I also explore nuanced representations of language-specific and place-based identities, from documentaries about Chinese immigrant casino workers in Las Vegas to three generations of remarkable women who share a house in the dark alleyways of Shanghai.

I am a filmmaker at this point in my life, but my journey here has been eclectic. I studied Architecture, Art History, and English, and before that, I was a radio DJ and a Chinese food blogger. The only constant identity I hold is being a Buddhist. Believing in reincarnation, I like to think of myself as the reincarnated spirit of Virginia Woolf and Vermeer combined. I find inspiration in their introspective quest and dedication to portraying women's domestic and inner lives. My recent short film continues this quest and delves into the intricacies of a mother-daughter relationship through the perspective of a baby and a soon-to-be reincarnated soul. The mother secretly grieves for the loss of an unconfessed love, and the daughter anxiously expects a baby. Shot entirely in Shanghainese against the backdrop of Los Angeles, the narrative unfolds with a traditional Chinese offering to the departed, symbolizing a timeless connection between the living and the beyond.

Like a sailor, my stories are everywhere and nowhere all at once. My works chart the vast seas of diasporic beings and pass on tales that remind us of our shared humanity. I enjoy finding fixity in passing, wonder in the ordinary, and reconciliation in chaos and solitude. In a different context, my Chinese name could be translated as "the becoming of a tree." It is a more liberal identity that doesn't require oneself to succeed in becoming a tree, sailor, filmmaker, or anything. Onward, I carry this welcoming notion with me and share it with the world. Fair winds and cheers to multiple becomings and fluid souls!