2025 BFA SENIOR THESIS THEATRICAL SCREENING

There are few things I love more in this world than a good thriller. I love them. Any genre can be twisted into a thriller, with enough tension, suspense, the inevitable twist ending that changes the way you perceive the rest of the film.

Frankie or (The Insane Amount of Loneliness One Feels When Being Pursued by the Government) is a perfect example of an unsuspecting genre being snatched up and transformed into a thriller. Frankie is a regular teen, facing regular problems. She wants to pass her history test next week. She wants to ask her crush out to the dance. She wants to get into a good college. But all of that changes, quite literally, overnight. What will happen to her? Who will help? And can she figure out what’s going on before it’s too late?

Frankie tackles topics of the stresses of everyday life, and takes inspiration from those confusing, inexplicable moments that happen to you at three in the morning.

I’ve always been fascinated with nature, and this has carried over into many of my films. For this film specifically, I wanted to make use of the ever-changing nature of plants and the outdoors to convey the idea of change over time and coming to a conclusion about something. I was inspired by the inherent fact that nothing stays the same, and also by my own personal feelings when trying to organize my thoughts. It was my goal to try and bring this feeling to life, and allow viewers to be able to see it represented visually. Representing feelings and thought process with visuals can be difficult to show in a way that is accessible to the viewer, so it was part of my goal to make it recognizable.

Message in a Bottle is a lesson in the extent of acceptance. Marked by pondering the sporadic presence of my own father in my life and my decision to completely sever contact with him, the last couple of years have left complicated wounds that are difficult to heal. How does one grieve and mourn what they never fully had? In a short narrative based on  my own lived and observed experiences, siblings Finn and Jane bottle up their emotions in different ways. They learn to navigate their recent loss together, grieving their inability to find  closure rather than the loss itself. When facing  injustice, accepting the lack of answers and apology rather than the circumstance can be an entryway to a personal journey of healing. And at the end of the day, when all else fails, get a sweet little treat!

The Pacha Society is a 12-minute film about three society members who must decipher a broken message in an antique house. Celeste is given the opportunity to be free of her tormenting powers, but it comes at the cost of her friends’ powers. As an American-born Peruvian filmmaker, I chose  to use Incan mythology as a fantasy element in my film. The society member characters are based on the Incas’ belief of the three realms, which are referred to as Pacha. Hanan Pacha is known as the heavenly world; Kay Pacha is known as the middle world, and Uku Pacha is known as the underworld. The film’s villain is based on an Incan deity known as Inti, the sun god. The character relationship has a dynamic of a mortal having divine powers and a God who believes they have authority over mortals. During production, I knew I wanted to use natural lighting for the film and change the idea of the sun’s light as a warm feeling, which would now become this cold and isolating feeling, representing the power that the god Inti has over Celeste. Overall, the film is a reflection and expression of my culture, my love for storytelling, and the importance of supporting those around you.

Death is weird. The inevitable can be terrifying. What happens after the heart rate monitor flat lines is a mystery no one can solve. All we can ask is when, how and why. I want to ask, what if? And give him a hat.

Clementine lies somewhere between a western, a drama, and an abstract take on life, death and unconditional love. Augustus, a cowboy from the 1800’s, is physically unable to die until he faces his mistakes and delusions head on, or should I say skull on. In the present day, he has to get from Point A to Point B with nothing but a map, a train ticket, a stolen car and a letter to the wife he mistakenly killed.

Could love triumph over an unforgivable mistake? Could guilt take hold of the mind and shape it to haunt you? Does your life flash before your eyes in a life threatening moment? Or are you saying your goodbyes in your head? Does a clementine feel good when you crush it in the palm of your hand? Or does the juice seeping into the crevasses between your fingers remind you of the blood on your hands?

Diamonds In the Air (Die a Millionaire) follows a journey down the Assabet River in Concord, MA. It is accompanied by sounds of the street and of trains, so as to suggest the continuity of industrial civilization and the landscape from which it emerges, while contrasting different modes of transportation as historically specific technologies. As we travel, I read English poet J. H. Prynne’s poem Die a Millionaire (pronounced: Diamonds In the Air), a meditation on the historical process, imperialism, travel and the relationship between the historical emergence of industrial capitalism, geography and scientific development. The film is made to reflect on humanity’s domination of nature, humanity’s domination of itself, the historical process of development, and the shrinking horizon of utopian possibility.

 Escaping the Noodles is  a first time experiment with VFX and 3D files for my moving images. It demanded a lot of research, practice, and testing, but I wanted to challenge myself with a new technique. The name Noodles just came to me when I was eating noodles and thinking about a name for this creature that is long and skinny and has no light or is even anemic. I found the name very fitting. The idea of running away from creepy creatures stems from my experience with horror games. Cutthroat, the film’s main character, is a young individual who, while unaware of his humor, also fails to take the situation seriously. I  just thought to make it funny to play into the imperfect aesthetics and  in the hope people laugh.

Red Letter Dayz is a film about joy. 

I created this film out of a desire to produce a work focused on happiness. During production, I focused heavily on design in all forms. I created a vibrant world, and deep character designs which tell stories within themselves. My hope is that the act of watching Red Letter Dayz and observing all of its spinning gears is akin to playing, and I love to play. 

Red Letter Dayz is a film about love. 

The world of Red Letter Dayz is one where everyone is looking out for each other. Sometimes love is lost, but it can always be found again. Sometimes things break, but there is always someone to fix them. Red Letter Dayz is a vertical slice of the best humanity has to offer.

Red Letter Dayz is a film about mail.

If Red Letter Dayz is about love, then the letter is a physical embodiment of love. Sending a letter is akin to an unexpected hug. The letter encapsulates the old-timey structures of the past, structures which I’ve injected with contemporary color and postmodernism. The antiquated nature of the post office leaves it out of our collective peripheral vision; yet unlike other facets of the old world, the post office has constantly been making strides. It’s this small intimate part of culture that’s been miraculously left untouched despite decades of irrelevance. I feel if we focus on the letter, and the other remnants of antique intimacy our lives will be richer, and our souls will be happier. 

In The Hour, I seek to confront our deepest societal fears through a fictional lens, illustrating the fragility of human life and the relentless struggle for dignity amidst chaos. Set against the backdrop of a collapsing society, the film follows an expecting couple, mirroring the emotional tension and stakes that come with bringing new life into a world ravaged by turmoil and despair. As the protagonists are torn from their home by marauders on a conquest for what they deem valuable, the narrative is intended to serve as a reflection of poverty and gentrification: issues that resonate deeply within communities across the United States today. In the face of chaos, the characters are forced to leave behind friends and family only to encounter the harsh reality that safety may come at a devastating cost. Filmed in gritty, dark environments, The Hour strips away the romantic veneer often associated with human resilience, focusing solely on the characters and their struggles. This approach is intended to highlight society’s prejudice toward people in poverty rather than understanding the circumstances that drive their actions. Through this intimate portrait, my hope is to ignite conversation and empathy towards those often marginalized in our narratives, prompting audiences to reflect on our collective humanity in times of turmoil. In channeling the urgency of survival within a collapsing society, The Hour challenges us to confront the uncomfortable truths of our own world while urging us to cultivate compassion and understanding.

Permanent Lavender is a self-reflection of a person who constantly questions the self. What motivates you in life or in art? It’s a very delicate thing when assessing your art if it’s personal, and even more delicate when you add another artist to the equation. In the artist-relationship dynamic, the same things that make us excited by someone can be the same things that make us resent someone. There’s a level of trust and vulnerability you have to reach that I think is beautiful. I try to convey how that can take shape over time and want the audience to dig deep into themselves as Ari does in the film. We see her fixate on darker imagery but she doesn’t know why. As much as we may repress our feelings, I believe the subconscious always finds a way to bring out some deeper truth. 

PUT ME IN A MOVIE is a (12) minute experimental collage that explores my body as its own identity at the hands of the audience. Growing up a gymnast, I have always valued the public gaze. My body has always been a machine. Body was punishment and praise. This transcended the idea that my body was not connected to me and was a channel of pain and pleasure. This piece allows all of my bodies to be picked apart and my own opinions on body to be critiqued. The audience is intended to be a part of the body, as an act of surveillance, compliance, and confrontation. An experience to be seen in a body that no longer performs like mine.

There is something genuinely terrifying about dating in the modern age. First Date examines the potential that its title holds. Two near-strangers try to forge a relationship. At the film’s end, both parties reveal their true intentions. My goal with this piece was to visualize the frustration I feel around the way that dating feels, with an emphasis on online dating. As an artist, I have often gravitated toward the macabre, sometimes using those topics to convey human connection. My intention with this piece was to express the experience of getting to know a potential partner–with a supernatural twist. Amid a general lack of communication, both characters go into the situation with different perspectives and desires for the outcome of their encounter. First Date is an attempt to approach these issues with humor and heart. 

The work Branches began when I first read Freud’s 1910 study of the Wolf Man (Dr. Sergeï Pankejeff) in a collection of his most famous cases. The relationship between the father and the son seen in the case, along with the figure of the wolf, became the seeds for the work branches. Beginning with archived home footage reels, I re-edited and modified the image to aim for the feeling of  recalling repressed memories, as Freud’s case study and general psychoanalytic theories talked about. The matter of what these memories are, along with the relationship of the boy and father figure in my own work, is one I choose to not discuss in detail, as I’d rather have you, the viewer, discern your own reading of the story unfolding.

Echo is part one of a series that focuses on the stories and lives of individuals in my life, both  strangers and  family members. The concept of Echo was born interactions, with people  that fue my desire for human connection,  and allow for the exchange of knowledge and culture. This is what inspires me, drives me, in the realm of film. There are certain universal truths and relatable content within personal storytelling, and I seek  to do my part by exposing it. This short piece  focuses on Quintin Wilkins, an artist, lover of books, and overall Renaissance man. Thevideo contrasts the reflection of great joy with  shadows of great anxiety. As the narration is plays, everyday moments of Quintin’s life unfold visually. I wanted to capture the beauty within the mundane. Echo is a reflection of the past that cultivates the current portrait of Quintin.

I’ve always been drawn, as an artist and as a person, to the surreal. There is so much in our world we do not and cannot understand. I’ve been drawn to Eldritch, Cosmic Horror–it always felt like the truest reflection of the human condition to me.  While any work is a product of its time, some of my favorite films (Argento, Lynch, Cosmatos) have always been limited to me. I wanted to make an updated surreal cosmic horror, one that reflects our culture and the moment of its creation. We are living in a time moving faster than comprehension, a time that exists in the context of the semi-failed hopes of the 20th century. I see my generation overtaken by a self destructive, cynical death-drive. I work in pulpy genre fiction, but I think these stories directly reflect the world in which they’re made. I wanted to create a work that exists within this context, within these genres and these aesthetics, that dares the audience to care about the world around them and to survive. I want the art I make to be dark, horrific, with cosmic and grand implications, but I want the audience to walk away with hope. 

Shot on a retro golfing camera, Dovetail was an opportunity for me to elevate an alternative queer lifestyle like my own to the big screen in striking 35mm. I see the photo-montage form of the film as a natural way of displaying the fragments of an incomplete life. Also key to bringing this vision to life was ensuring all the performances in the film were portrayed by the independent artists that have supported me over the years as I’ve found my creative voice. Drawing much of my stylistic inspiration from Chris Marker’s La Jetée and with a plot bordering on the autobiographical, this film has been my way of capturing the club-light-soaked, dilapidated, beauty of my queer experience.

Content Warning: Graphic Sex & Nudity, Substance Use