“Shadows of Vegas” follows a day in the life of three first-generation Chinese immigrants who arrived in Las Vegas across three decades, each chasing their own version of the American dream and carving out lives as casino workers in the shadows of Vegas.

In Vegas, you are looking at your cards, you are watching the other players, you are thinking a million things at once. But have you ever looked up from your cards and wondered how many Chinese dealers work in the casino?

Following first-generation Chinese immigrant casino dealers, “Shadows of Vegas” seeks to illuminate the stories behind the casino tables and the people behind the “disembodied” hands only known for shuffling and dealing cards. Our participants recount stories of grit, resilience, and hope. They talk about their paths to America and their dream for a life beyond the casinos. They share with us the people, places and foods that make up the glitz and glamor of “Sin City.” They are shadows of this fantastical city, but they are the heroes of our film. With our three participants, we embark on a journey from China to the U.S., from chips and cards to ancient forms of storytelling, in search of the untold history of Chinese immigrant workers in Las Vegas.

As an estranged mother and daughter anxiously await an overdue baby, a strange dream of a deceased loved one prompts them to uncover deeply buried secrets and emotions.

“Late” is a short film about the late-coming of a baby, a loved one, and a long-overdue reconciliation between a mother and daughter. In this story, life and death come full circle and the mother and daughter come together.

Each of them holds onto a secret that keeps them apart. The mother secretly grieves for the loss of an unconfessed love and the daughter anxiously expects a baby. But as they wait for the arrival of their new family member, their secrets come into the open and become an unexpected consolation for both.

In the suburbs of Las Vegas, three generations of a first-generation Chinese American family try to build communities through each of their (artistic) practices.

If home is no longer a fixed point on a map—a place of origin and return—why do we still feel homesick and nostalgic? Why do we still long for home and a sense of belonging? In this film, a first-generation Chinese American family in Las Vegas becomes part of the conversation centered around the history of displacement from and longing for home. Following the daily routines of a daughter, mother, and grandmother, the film hints at the possibilities of building one’s own multi-centered community that embraces people whose identities are as elusive a concept as home in this millennial culture.

Nothing happens in the story, except that... an anxious student struggles to answer the last question on an English exam and falls into a "black hole" on the wall. What will happen next? What will he discover?

Millenials and Gen Z specialize in anxiety. Even sitting still for three minutes could get us in a flap.

Inspired by the director's personal experience with ADHD, this short film explores the repercussions of a momentary lapse during a college exam. In the final minutes, an anxious student, tasked with explaining the absence of plot in modern fiction, discovers a mark on the wall. As he grapples with this enigma, he descends into a "black hole," navigating both the academic query and life's fundamental question: In a life devoid of events, what bestows meaning upon existence?

Independent Shorts Awards: Best Experimental Short Bronze Award, Honorable Mention for Best Student Female Director

An exploration of the human body, the bath, and the sea as a frame of other experiences.

It's hard to find a place that is more magical than the bathroom, where the vulgar and the graceful, the filth and the holy are compatible. A secret space, like the bathroom, must not be too spacious. It is rather similar to our heart—small, closed, and hidden, but supporting the weight of the soul. After a hard day's work, we walk into the bathroom, take off our clothes, and wash away the dust of the world. The whole room is filled with clouds and mist, warmth and pleasure. It is a little paradise.

So I imagine the bath to be an access to the sea, where all sorrows and fatigue are washed away. The broad embrace of the ocean seeps into our tub of water and immerses us in a symphony of sound and color. A frenzy of emotions. Stream of consciousness.

One hour on the LA metro.

Shot on phone and made as part of a 24-hour film in the tradition of the game “Exquisite Corpse,” this short piece explores the experience of riding the LA metro from 8 to 9 am.

A short film based on my family's collective fight against my grandpa's illness during lockdown last year.

After my grandpa fell ill during the pandemic, I noticed how lockdowns drastically changed familial relationships. Inspired by these hardships, I shot this short film to rethink the potential of care in confined domestic spaces. Through this project, I hope to inspire some level of comfort and warmth in crowded, domestic spaces.

A documentary about the collective memory of space. Three generations of sisters walk down “memory” lane.

I am always fascinated by the intimacy between neighbors in Shanghai’s alleyways. Back in the day, three families lived in the same house. Six moms shared a kitchen. Toys and clothes are scattered here and there. When the evening news is on, everyone gathers around one television and chats all night long. But what is the living experience like for different generations? What is the most memorable thing/object/place/person/time for each of them? This film focuses on the communicative aspects of social geography and conceptions of space.

A depressive episode is triggered by the absence of happiness.

I came across many scenes of mental breakdowns on screen, but all the episodes occurred because of some unfortunate incidents. In our daily lives, we also tend to sympathize with patients who have experienced traumatic events and dismiss the conditions of those who lack obvious reasons. In my sophomore year in college, I was particularly traumatized by the fact that I seemingly had no reason to lose interest in life. As time went on, I was overwhelmed by feelings of worthlessness and self-loathing. Now that I am in a happier place, I can finally reflect on my experience and find ways to cope with depression.

An invisible woman takes a shower at night.

As a kid, bathrooms are often the most frightening space at home. Watching Psycho (1960) a few years ago made me even more convinced that one should never close their eyes during a shower. However, if you close your eyes and enter another “space” in mind, showers could be relaxing and even redemptive at times. Through this film, I hope to capture these two feelings by showing an unseen entity taking a shower.