In this work, I express my perception of the flow of time in the Ogura-ike Reclaimed Land in Kyoto. In modern places, time seems to rush forward into the future at tremendous speed. In contrast, when I find myself in places with a long history, time seems to flow backward into the past.
This work explores the different flows and directions of time that I perceive in these places.

Elegy for the Lost is an essayistic visual prose that takes a lyrical and distinctly "queering" approach to sexual identity, power, and governmentality in contemporary China, where the ongoing ideological tensions between socialism and neoliberalism shape both public culture and private life. The film unfolds a young post-pandemic Chinese migrant’s poignant recollection of her love story within an underground troupe in Beijing, set against the shifting landscape of Chinese urban queer allies and activism. She reflects on the intimacy, struggles, and sacrifices once shared with a lost lover in her voice-over narration, which is interspersed with the film’s kaleidoscopic assemblage of interviews, news archives, found footage, dramatic re-enactments, psychoanalytically informed representations of consciousness, and even artificial intelligence-generated content that challenges the boundaries of political inquiry. As her private memories intertwine with public narratives of resistance, both she and her community navigate secrecy, repression, survival, looming precarity, and displacement under societal pressures, all while confronting the personal cost of existing in a world that demands their silence. Between white frames and black screens, between still images and the heterogeneity of moving images, between the representational layers of realities and the pure, non-representational fields of colours, and between silence, voices, and melodies of nocturnes, ballads and electronic music, we are drawn into the affective flows of the protagonist’s confessions of desires, beliefs, solidarity, social amelioration, hopeless love, and heartbreaking loss.

This is our time. “I tell myself it is their fault.” The observer is becoming the observed, illumined by gas lamps or illumined by gas chambers? "GodCocteauTheory" asks: Are we driven to complicity by noise? Are we driven to complicity by silence? An official blocks the view. A spectral hand passes by again. Is it just another Sunday morning talk show in Paris? From unconscious to dream, from opaque to translucent, I hear voices; Godard and Cocteau’s words fold back on themselves. From comprehension, to music, to pure sound. Descending then rising with Akerman’s voice like “water beneath the earth.”

Whenever I travel to places I’ve been to before, places near where I am in the present and places I’ve never been to in the past I’m reminded that nothing stands still and nothing stays the same. I also wonder what the intention was behind the restructuring of this or that in the natural world and what determined the way in which it was expressed. Sometimes it seems clear to me while at other times it doesn't seem clear to me at all. So what will others will see in the future? Will they determine that there was a coherent and considered relationship to the natural world which made our present possible or will they see chaos and competing needs with little or no coherent consideration? Eventually the world we know will disappear and will be replaced by a world we won't recognize even though it will be a world largely adapted and evolved in response to our dreams as well as our nightmares.

"Long Live Holly 2035" is a speculative documentary that imagines a future for an oil rig just off the Southern California coast and a future for Exxon's lunar resource extraction in the looming global environmental catastrophe.

The Indonesian city Bandung is well known for the Asia-Africa conference that took place in 1955 and laid the foundation for the nonaligned movement. Nowadays the Jalan Asia-Afrika is populated by 'ghosts', local people who dress up like superheroes and horror movie characters. This short film participates in this peculiar combination of independence, plagiarism and supernatural faith.

Surreal and provocative, artist-filmmaker Neil Kendricks experimental short film, "Book of Skin" reimagines the myth of Pygmalion with a gender-bending twist as an artist's fantasies and nightmares expressed in her drawings suddenly appear as shape-shifting, phantasmagoric images on the body of an artist's model during a life-drawing session. Inspired by the filmmaker's observations teaching life-drawing classes, this unusual short film sets the bar high with the challenge of creating something that most viewers have never seen before: "Book of Skin" features actor-artists creating real drawings in real time while portraying fictional characters on camera in a scripted narrative. The film offers an intoxicating mixture of "cinema verite," documentary style camerawork and surrealism. "Book of Skin" has won 12 awards - mostly for "Best Experimental Film" - on the international film-festival circuit so far.

A synthetic realm unfolds, meticulously engineered by global startups. Everything is bound together by a dark slime—an oily, recurrent presence that merges Jurassic-era flora with plastic plant decorations destined for shopping malls. Petroleum, in both refined and unrefined forms, opens up a portal to the gory logics of petro-capitalism and global extraction practices, revealing the flawed rationale behind techno-solutionist visions of the future.