An unhinged, diaristic examination of devastating friendship breakups.

Actors work with a director to find the rhythm of a scene.

What are they? What do they seek? When all the lights go out, they will wander. And you will never see them.

A Turkish woman in Brighton shares her visual diary. Witness her ups and downs, her intimacy and vulnerability. After revealing hers, the film invites you to confront your ‘tiny little things’. It presents a slice-of-life experience with an abstract flow and deals with one’s existence in this world. There is no escape from family and the things in your mind, even if you are thousands of miles away. The meaning changes constantly, and the camera becomes the extension of her mind. And somebody put that voice in her brain.

Through phone call conversations, an aspiring Ilocano filmmaker relates to his mother working in Italy about his dreams and struggles while documenting the invisible betweenness of their language and distance.

In the year 2020, when the world was forced to ‘change’, I wanted to confirm what changed and what did not change in me. The white mask I wore became the screen projecting my past. My family is sometimes hurt, but support me as I suffer from schizophrenia. We live today while looking for the answer to ‘Who are we?’

Phyllis Bigler has been going to the Spanish Peaks of Colorado since she was a child. Now in her 90s, she tells her stories.

Made over six years in the hotels of six different countries, Hotel Diaries charts the 'War on Terror' era of Bush and Blair through a seven-part series of video recordings that relate personal experiences to the ongoing conflicts in Afghanistan, Iraq and Israel/Palestine. In these works, which play upon chance and coincidence, hotel rooms are employed as 'found' film sets, where architecture, furnishing and decoration become the means by which the filmmaker’s small adventures are linked to major world events.

Disjointed moments from the filmmakers’ daily lives during the past year.  Captured on a 1985 VHS camcorder with color and luminosity distorted by its failing color Newvicon tube. Cut with distorted tape-recorded fragments of nostalgic broadcast television ephemera. Scored by whatever was handy— from an ambient electronic song with a surprising amount of pipe organ (Oneohtrix Point Never - Boring Angel) to midi versions of your favorite SNES soundtrack (Donkey Kong Country – Aquatic Ambience, Opening, and Treetop Rock) to a not-quite-right rendition of a song that will make you want to say “Oh, Angelo, that’s tearing my heart out!” (Xiu Xiu – Falling). A voyeuristic peak at home movies that exist somewhere between soon to be forgotten and forgotten long ago. The occasional dot matrix time stamps in the corner of the footage somehow make it harder to place in time.