The brilliance or luster that a room exhales governs how an experience will impact those involved. Illumination dictates dialogue and influences a mood. Lighting is everything.
In terms of luminosity, moonlight is favoured. The kind that glistens off rippled water or spotlights lips meeting in the night. But when the moon is inaccessible or too dim, the glow of candlelight creates a hypnotizing alternative that instigates murmured tones and hooded eyelids. I can imagine the blaze of a hundred fireflies would be the only scene more whimsical than walking into a room afire with white candles. Read more
Last August, I experienced an adventure so impactful that I can still feel the weight of each moment curled into my memory beds, warm and alive, beating with a heart and soul as vividly as my present day. Yet, while the experience stays there, standing as though in front of me, translating the feelings and emotions into words has been a more trying task than expected. Read more
A month ago, it wasn’t raining. Droplets weren’t streaking down my window and puddles weren’t seeping their way inside that tiny, invisible hole in my boots. There was sun beaming down on a rooftop patio in Toronto. A light breeze carrying the last remaining scents of summer licked my nose goodbye in the open air of the Thompson Hotel. Read more
There was no shortage of women at the Toronto International Film Festival. Just like men, women are creators, storytellers, luminaries, and entrepreneurs. The desire to tell stories is a trait that spans the sexes. A human compulsion. Read more
The chemistry at a dinner table is a delicate formula. If not executed in the right manner with each element carefully considered and inserted in a particular order, the outcome could be explosive. Damaging. Or, even worse, flat and forgettable.
The other night I was part of a formula to create the perfect dinner table dynamic at the Asian Film Summit banquet. The close of a day celebrating East-West relations and the continual growth of the Asian film industry. Read more
Nights at TIFF squish together. Dance floors combine. Meals are forgotten. Sleep is as mythical as a black unicorn. And every night is a Saturday.
As I write this, it’s Wednesday. And I’m still putting the pieces of my actual Saturday into one puzzled picture. Memories lie in a jumbled box of mismatched fragments. I have been pulling colourful portions from the pile, one at a time, ruminating on each as I go. And now it’s time to make one complete image. Read more
Last night, I began the unofficial celebration of TIFF in a leather skirt at the early-ish hour of 5pm. There’s something off about wearing leather in the daylight hours. I felt like I should be carrying a guitar case or sucking on a Camel instead of shrugging into a taxi amidst those just leaving offices for the day. Sunshine mocks black leather. Sizzles and scowls. But the night, the darkness rubs up on the smooth texture, molds and absorbs into it as though they are one. Lovers’ skin sticking together. Read more