Anni Liu China 1/3 Anni Liu is an emerging illustrator from eastern China, now based in San Francisco. With a master's degree in Illustration, Liu brings a deep appreciation for the rich and vibrant culture of China to her artwork. Her latest project showcases the unique costumes and folk traditions of various Chinese ethnic groups through 14 meticulously crafted illustrations. Each piece integrates traditional costume patterns, customs, and legends from 56 ethnic groups, depicted on A3 kraft paper using water-based markers and acrylic paints. Since childhood, Liu has been captivated by the intricate patterns of ethnic costumes, a passion that continues to influence her work today. Though she has not yet participated in art exhibitions, she is preparing to debut her work in the coming year, marking the beginning of what promises to be a promising artistic journey.

Dayat Sutisno Indonesia Dayat Sutisno.jpg Dayat Sutisno.jpg 1/1 Photo credit: Dayat Sutisno His photography captures profound stories in a single frame, making words almost unnecessary. Dayat Sutisno is an Indonesian photographer known for capturing compelling images that often reflect the rich cultural and natural landscapes of Indonesia. His work typically emphasizes the vibrant life, traditions, and scenic beauty of the country, bringing to light aspects of Indonesian society and environment that might otherwise go unnoticed. Sutisno's photography is noted for its vivid use of color and composition, which creates a powerful visual narrative.

Brian Hoang Vietnam 1/4 Brian was born in Vietnam a few years after the war ended. When he was just two years old, he and his parents left the country and spent about six months in a refugee camp before relocating to Canada. As a child, Brian was captivated by his father's ability to pose action figures and draw them. Witnessing his dad transform a tangible object into a drawing inspired him deeply. When Brian discovered comic books in grade six, he knew art was his true calling. He pursued this passion by enrolling in and graduating from the Interpretive Illustration program at Sheridan College in Oakville, ON, just 30 minutes outside Toronto. After years of balancing a day job with his art on the side, Brian transitioned to full-time artistry in 2014, supported by his wife, an artist he met in college. Initially influenced by pop culture media, Brian's work took a transformative turn in 2019 as he embarked on a journey to reconnect with his Vietnamese roots, which has since become the central theme of his art.

Previous Next Taylor Yasui A Multi-talented Cellist and Entrepreneur Harmonizing Music, Real Estate, and Culture Images provided by Taylor Yasui Taylor Tamotsu Kainoa Yasui is a dynamic entrepreneur and artist whose multifaceted career bridges music, real estate, and property management—rooted in the vibrant pulse of New York City yet deeply inspired by his diverse heritage and Hawaiian upbringing. With Japanese, Native Hawaiian, Okinawan, and Norwegian roots, Yasui embodies a rare blend of cultural richness and professional versatility. ROOTS IN HAWAII: A FOUNDATION OF CULTURE AND VALUES Born and raised in Honolulu, Hawai‘i, Yasui attended Kamehameha Schools Kapālama, a private institution founded by Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop to educate Native Hawaiian youth. This heritage-infused education instilled in him core Hawaiian values that continue to shape his grounded approach to both life and business. Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop (1831–1884), the great-granddaughter of King Kamehameha I, was the last royal descendant of the Kamehameha dynasty. A highly educated and visionary aliʻi (chiefess), she foresaw the socioeconomic challenges facing Native Hawaiians during the 19th century due to colonization, disease, and cultural displacement. In her will, she dedicated her vast land holdings—over 375,000 acres—to create Kamehameha Schools, with the goal of providing high-quality education to Hawaiian children. Today, her legacy lives on through the Bishop Estate (now Kamehameha Schools), one of the largest private charitable trusts in the U.S., which reinvests its revenues into educational and cultural programs. Yasui’s connection to Hawaiian culture also ties closely to real estate, as the Bishop Estate remains one of the largest landowners in Hawai‘i—channeling revenue back into Native Hawaiian education, including the school he attended. “Real estate has always been a part of my life,” he reflects. A PASSION FOR MUSIC: FROM FAMILY LEGACY TO MEANINGFUL MOMENTS Though Yasui’s formal music training began at age 12 under the guidance of Lifen Anthony, music was quietly embedded in his family history. His grandfather’s brother, Byron K. Yasui, is a distinguished American musician, composer, educator, and performer based in Hawai‘i. While many musically inclined children start lessons as early as age three, Yasui’s path to music was more organic. “My family encouraged me, but not in an aggressive way,” he shares. There was no pressure—just support and space to discover it on his own terms. A turning point came when his grandmother, Yukiye Yogi, also known as Maude, gifted him his first cello. “She wasn’t musical, but she really enjoyed it,” he recalls with a smile. That simple gift sparked a deep connection with the instrument, one that would grow into a lifelong passion. Two years ago, when Maude entered hospice care, Yasui chose to be by her side almost daily. “There was no way I couldn’t be there,” he says. He played for her often during those final days. “It was a really meaningful way to contribute—in the way that I could—in this last chapter of her life.” During high school, Yasui had the opportunity to spend four to six consecutive weeks in Japan each summer for three years, receiving intensive music training. His teacher there was the brother of his cello teacher in Hawai‘i, and although the instructor was Chinese, he was based in Japan and deeply respected in the region. “It was very intense,” Yasui recalls. “We practiced repertoire of music individually and as an ensemble.” A unique part of that training focused on musical inflections and timing—nuances that help make the sound feel more fluid and natural. These subtle techniques, often overlooked in early training, greatly expanded Yasui’s musical expressiveness. By 2009, his dedication to the cello earned him a soloist spot with the Honolulu Symphony after winning its youth concerto competition. He further honed his craft at prestigious summer programs like Meadowmount School of Music, Chautauqua Institution, and the Rome Chamber Music Festival. Yasui went on to earn a B.A. in Cello Performance from the highly selective Robert McDuffie Center for Strings at Mercer University, which admits only six cellists per year. “I am one of the six,” he proudly notes. He followed that with an M.A. in Music Business from New York University, studying under renowned cellists Julie Albers and Hans Jørgen Jensen. His artistic sensibilities were further sharpened through work at Opus 3 Artists, a premier artist management firm representing legends like Yo-Yo Ma and Patti LuPone. BALANCING MULTIPLE HATS: ENTREPRENEUR, REALTOR, AND MUSICIAN Yasui’s entrepreneurial spirit emerged early. As a teenager, he and his friends played string quartets on the streets of Waikīkī, earning around $80 an hour and booking wedding gigs—an early education in marketing, performance, and client service. Today, he channels that same initiative into three interconnected ventures: a real estate sales and rentals business affiliated with Compass, a property management firm he co-owns called Strata Property Management LLC, and a musician contracting service. Each business reflects a different side of his expertise and passion, and he manages to balance them with careful attention and creative flexibility. “Wearing a bunch of hats and constantly shifting gears,” he explains, “One minute I’m marketing to find new clients, the next I’m working with a seller to plan the best strategy to sell their house. Sometimes it’s not just about price, but timing or unique situations—like a death in the family or a divorce. You have to be empathetic.” His real estate practice focuses primarily on residential properties in Manhattan, with additional work in Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx. “I don’t do Staten Island,” he quips, “but usually whatever’s close to Manhattan.” On the property management side, he and his team cater to landlords—many of them overseas or based in Asia—who rely on Yasui for hands-on tenant relations and building maintenance. HARMONIZING MUSIC AND REAL ESTATE IN NEW YORK Yasui continues to balance his real estate business with his musical identity. He performs regularly at weddings and corporate events and collaborates with Hawaiian artists like Keali'i Reichel and Ho'okena, keeping strong ties to both his craft and his cultural roots. “The cello is like a different voice—it’s my voice,” Yasui explains. “I’m not a great singer, but through the instrument, I communicate feelings and ideas that words sometimes can’t express.” To him, music is not just art—it’s service, memory, and emotional connection. His experience playing for Maud during her final days reinforced that music could be a quiet act of care, not just performance. His business partnership reflects this same harmony. “I’m detail-oriented and good at systems; my business partner sees the big-picture and he is patient with clients. Together, we’re yin and yang.” BEYOND CAREER: A LIFE OF COMMUNITY, LIGHT, AND INTENTION Yasui lives in Hell’s Kitchen with his husband. Outside of work, he enjoys cooking, fitness, and travel—from Brooklyn to Bangkok—and he remains actively involved with Native Hawaiian and LGBTQIA+ organizations. His approach to life blends creativity, compassion, and cultural responsibility, but it also incorporates a deeper internal language—one that he has come to define in a single, powerful word: incandescent. DEFINING INCANDESCENT To Yasui, incandescent means something radiating from within. “We often associate it with temperature—emitting light—but for me, it’s also about energy,” he explains. “It’s the energy you’re getting from others or bringing from yourself that lights up how you go about your work.” He reflects on this concept during weekly check-ins with his mother, who still lives in Hawai‘i. “When she asks how I’m doing from one to ten, I usually say 8.5 or higher—even if I’m having a hard day or feeling low on energy. That word helped me understand the grace I need to give myself on those days.” But incandescence, to Yasui, is not just personal—it’s collective. “In a concert, one light bulb can’t light up the whole stage. It takes many. And if one dims, others brighten. We lift each other.” Rooted, Whole, and Moving with a Purpose Taylor Yasui reflects the quiet strength and steady presence of the moli bird—a powerful symbol in Hawaiian culture. Known for traveling vast distances with grace and returning home with precision, the moli mirrors Yasui’s ability to move between different worlds with focus and care. He’s not just a cellist or a real estate agent—he’s a whole, not a sum of parts. Whether balancing music and business or blending heritage with ambition, he approaches each role with clarity and purpose. It’s not volume that defines him, but the weight of presence and the depth of follow-through. Taylor Yasui.png Taylor Yasui.jpeg Taylor Yasui.png 1/2 Images provided by Taylor Yasui

Artist Crystal Worl - Mountain Goat.webp Crystal Worl - Beast Collective Basketball.webp Crystal Worl - Giclee Print.webp Crystal Worl - Mountain Goat.webp 1/6 Images Provided by Crystal Worl Crystal Worl is a talented multidisciplinary artist based in Juneau, Alaska. She is Tlingit, Athabascan, Yupik, and filipino and draws inspiration from her cultural roots and the natural world around her. Worl's artwork is diverse, ranging from traditional Northwest Coast design elements (aka formline) to contemporary multimedia pieces. Her work often explores themes of identity, connection to land, and the interplay between traditional and modern ways of life. In addition to creating art, Worl is also an advocate for Indigenous rights and works to promote cultural awareness and understanding through her art and activism. Her work has been exhibited in galleries and museums around the world and she continues to be a prominent voice in the Indigenous art community. Today Crystal lives in Juneau, Alaska working as a co-owner and co-designer of Trickster Company with her brother Rico Worl. Trickster Company promotes innovative indigenous design focused on the Northwest Coast art and exploration of themes and issues in Native culture. Previous Next

Michel & Amazonka Unveiling Mongolian Elegance: The Journey of Michel and Amazonka Choigaalaa Ulaanbaatar stands as a profound symbol of Mongolia’s resilience and cultural adaptability, where ancient traditions blend seamlessly with modern urban life. As the nation’s bustling heart and home to nearly half of its population, Ulaanbaatar’s cultural richness enhances its pivotal role in preserving and celebrating Mongolia’s heritage, showcased through its eclectic architecture, sacred religious sites, and vibrant cultural institutions. The city’s harmonious fusion of traditional nomadic influences with contemporary lifestyles paints a dynamic picture of cultural adaptation, offering a deep and insightful glimpse into the enduring spirit and identity of Mongolia. In the heart of Ulaanbaatar, a unique fashion narrative unfolds through the creativity and dedication of designer sisters Michel and Amazonka Choigaalaa. Their fashion company, 'Michel Amazonka LLC,' established in 2015, stands as a beacon of Mongolian tradition seamlessly woven into contemporary design. ROOTED IN TRADITION, BLOSSOMING IN FASHION Michel and Amazonka's fashion journey began in 2013 when they first showcased their collection, “Unique,” at the Ulaanbaatar Fashion Week. This initial foray into the fashion world laid the foundation for their brand. Both sisters are graduates of “Urlakh Erdem,” a prestigious Mongolian university specializing in fashion design. Starting with a modest 40 sqm workshop and just five employees, their vision and perseverance have seen the company expand to a 621 sqm factory, a 200 sqm warehouse, and a team of 51 full-time employees. Today, 'Michel Amazonka' operates two stores in the bustling center of Ulaanbaatar, reflecting their growth and success. INSPIRATION FROM ANCESTRAL MONKS The Choigaalaa sisters' designs are deeply influenced by their rich heritage. Both their paternal and maternal grandparents were Buddhist monks, wearing traditional robes adorned with intricate ethnic embellishments. "Our mother's father was a monk at his young age. Our father's father was a monk at his late age. They used traditional clothes and furniture with ethnic embellishments," the sisters explained. "We still have some of the clothes that are more than 100 years old. The color variations, patterns, and silhouette are unique to our culture and its people, making us distinctive from other nations." This profound legacy of craftsmanship and design is a cornerstone of Michel and Amazonka's fashion philosophy. A MOTHER’S EMBROIDERY: CRAFTING A LEGACY Their mother's passion for embroidery has profoundly shaped Michel and Amazonka's design ethos. Although a doctor by profession, their mother turned to sewing leather products after losing her job in the 1990's. "Our mother is a doctor, but her hobby was to embroider and knit different home items and clothes," they recall. "After the 1990's democratic revolution, both our parents were laid off from their respective jobs, and we had to come up with ways to meet the ends. My mom used to sew leather products to sell, and we kids had to collect leather scraps from the shoe factory garbage area to supply the raw material." Her meticulous, handmade embroideries, featuring original designs, are a testament to creativity and resilience. "Every embroidery she made is 100% handmade. She came up with the designs herself and skillfully finished them," they share. This heritage is reflected in their work, where embroidered elements frequently embellish their creations. "We use a lot of embroidered elements in our designs because it is something we are familiar with growing up." CHERISHED MEMORIES, ENDURING INFLUENCE Childhood memories of their mother’s embroidery, creating beautiful pillows, throws, and table decor, remain a source of inspiration. "When we were young, she made our home beautiful with embroidered pillows, throws, and table decors," they reminisce. "We often saw her doing embroidery while our dad went to Russia to buy stuff to sell in Mongolia. That is how we overcame Mongolia’s political, economic, and social transformation. It was a small family enterprise which inspired us to run a family business. Michel Amazonka is a 100% family-owned company." DESIGNS FOR EXTREME CLIMATES Mongolia's extreme climate, ranging from scorching summers to frigid winters, has shaped the nation's clothing culture for millennia. 'Michel Amazonka's' designs reflect this heritage, producing garments suited to these conditions. "As known widely, our climate is considered extreme, fluctuating between very hot to very cold. For thousands of years, our clothing culture has adapted to the local climate," they explained. "Therefore, we produce clothes suitable for the climate. For example, we produce cashmere products that are more in demand from October to May, while light clothes like dresses and streetwear lines are popular during warmer seasons. But the most popular designs all year round is the Mongolian deel and its modern versions." While traditionally made from silk, modern iterations of the deel incorporate non-silk materials to suit seasonal needs. This balance of tradition and innovation is a hallmark of 'Michel Amazonka’s' design philosophy. REVITALIZING MONGOLIAN HERITAGE The sisters are committed to modernizing Mongolian clothing while preserving its roots. Traditional elements such as embroidery, appliqué, and pins are seamlessly integrated into contemporary designs. "We always tried to modernize Mongolian clothing to make them more suitable with today’s fashion trend but we do not forget our roots," they said. "From our design, you can see traditional elements in forms of embroidery, applique, and pins. It is hard to say we produce traditional deel in its ancient form. Because we often change the silhouette to make it suitable for modern activities such as receptions, ceremonies, parties, business meetings, video clips, and advertisement. The recent Olympic uniform is a modernized version of Mongolian Deel." URBAN INSPIRATIONS AND GLOBAL APPEAL Ulaanbaatar, with its rapid development and diverse events, is a constant source of inspiration. "Mongolia is developing and we have different kinds of events happening in Ulaanbaatar," they noted. "These events require different dress codes and Mongolians are choosing to wear Mongolian clothes more and more. Therefore designers are accommodating this demand with modern versions." Their designs appeal to both local and international audiences by merging traditional deel-making techniques with European tailoring. "Deel has its own techniques to make and we added a new touch to it with European tailoring techniques. So the designs became slimmer, minimal, body shaping, and modern," they said. "We have expat customers who wish to wear traditional clothes for local diplomatic and casual events. We call it Deel Dress and it is popular." CULTURAL MISUNDERSTANDINGS AND CREATIVE BREAKTHROUGHS Cultural misunderstandings can sometimes lead to unexpected creative breakthroughs. "We would say the Paris 2024 Olympic uniform for Team Mongolia is making a big buzz abroad," they remarked. "Even though the world is not familiar with our clothes, they attracted many people around the world. We received many requests to buy the uniform." Locally, the reception was mixed. "Mongolian audience expressed that this uniform was too fancy and had too many ethnic elements. Some expressed that we should have made more modern athleisure outfits. This was unexpected." INCORPORATING THE NOMADIC LIFESTYLE Looking ahead, Michel and Amazonka aspire to incorporate Mongolia’s nomadic lifestyle into their fashion work. "This is something we would like to incorporate into our work in the future with proper research," they said. "During celebrations like Naadam, Tsagaan Sar, and family gatherings, Mongolians wear their finest deels and travel many kilometers to meet and greet their relatives and friends. Maybe this is the traveling fashion of Mongolians. In this sense, we custom make deels for our customers." OVERCOMING MATERIAL CHALLENGES Sourcing materials and producing clothing in Mongolia poses significant challenges. The lack of local fabric factories means that most materials are imported from China, Korea, and other countries. Despite these hurdles, Michel and Amazonka have successfully leveraged local resources like cashmere to create unique, high-quality garments that honor their heritage while appealing to contemporary tastes. "In Mongolia, we do not have big or small fabric factories that meet our demand," they explained. "However, we can find cashmere and wool threads and create some experimental fabrics with them. Other materials are all imported from China, Korea, and other countries. We have to travel abroad several times a year to choose fabrics for our designs." A LEGACY WOVEN INTO THE GLOBAL FABRIC Michel and Amazonka’s journey from a modest workshop to the global fashion stage is a testament to the profound influence of their mother’s meticulous embroidery and the rich legacy of their monastic grandparents. Their designs are not merely fashion statements but woven narratives of resilience, creativity, and cultural pride. By drawing deeply from their heritage and infusing it with modern aesthetics, they have created a unique brand that resonates worldwide. The sisters stand as ambassadors of Mongolian culture, embodying the spirit of their ancestors and the innovative vigor of contemporary Mongolia, as they continue to bring their rich, traditional artistry to the global spotlight. Their mother’s legacy is the thread that runs through every garment they create, a symbol of the unwavering strength and artistic brilliance that has shaped their journey. Her dedication to craftsmanship and ability to transform adversity into beauty have profoundly influenced Michel and Amazonka. This maternal inspiration is evident in their intricate designs and the deep respect they hold for their cultural roots. As they weave Mongolia’s rich heritage into the fabric of global fashion, Michel and Amazonka honor their mother’s enduring legacy, ensuring that the spirit of their ancestors continues to shine brightly on the world stage. 1/5 Images provided by: Michel & Amazonka

Mirjan Hipolito The Journey of Mirjan Hipolito: From Beauty Queen to Travel Advocate In an era where information flows at the speed of light, the digital world has made it possible for anyone with internet access to explore every corner of the globe, uncovering history, culture, and unexpected opportunities. For Mirjan Hipolito, this interconnected age has not only fueled her insatiable curiosity but also shaped a career she deeply believes in. Her time as a flight stewardess ignited her appreciation for travel, while her glory days as a beauty queen provided her with a platform to advocate for Filipinos to explore the world. Now a solo traveler who meticulously chronicles her adventures on Instagram, Mirjan has transformed her passion into a thriving profession as a travel guide, earning widespread acclaim. Her work embodies the spirit of pre-Instagram travel icons like Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern, Rick Steves, and Samantha Brown, illustrating that the act of discovery remains timeless. Roots and Resilience Mirjan Hipolito grew up in Angeles, Pampanga, in a modest household alongside her three siblings. Her father worked as a hospital janitor, while her mother left a stable job in the banking sector to dedicate herself to raising their four children. Despite their limited means, her parents prioritized their children’s basic needs. “My parents had to cut corners here and there growing up. It wasn’t economically comfortable, but I never lacked anything like food and education, and that was always the priority of my parents,” Hipolito reflected. Among her siblings—a sister and two brothers—Hipolito shares a particularly close relationship with her sister. The passing of her father marked a challenging period for the family. To make ends meet, Hipolito’s mother took on various odd jobs. “I remember one time I saw her scrubbing the feet of a customer. She is doing anything, like whatever job that comes in the door,” Hipolito shared. This resilience inspired the young Hipolito, who began working at the age of 12 as a runway model while also handing out flyers in malls for as little as $10 a day. A Beauty Queen's Rise At 17, Hipolito’s life changed dramatically when she joined the Miss Angeles City pageant, becoming the youngest winner in its history. This victory introduced her to a dedicated team of professionals who recognized her potential and prepared her for larger stages such as Binibining Pilipinas and Miss Universe Philippines. Lacking the resources to compete at this level, she relied on her team, known as Galaxy, who funded her transformation from a modest teenager into a polished beauty queen—a modern Cinderella story. Reflecting on her early years, Hipolito admitted, “I was a very difficult kid. I liked going to my grandparents’ house and spending the entire two months not seeing my parents. So I have always been independent like my father.” Over time, she developed a stronger bond with her mother. “I think I resonate more with my mom because she is a woman who is very tenacious and very fair. But at the same time, she loves to share everything with everyone. And everyone says that I am a generous person,” she shared. The Significance of Cultural Identity Even her name carries a story of individuality and depth. Mirjan revealed that her father, an avid reader, was inspired by the Marian apparitions in Medjugorje, Yugoslavia, in 1981. He named her after one of the children, Mirjana Dragicevic, who witnessed the apparitions. “He didn’t want it to be overly girly, but rather unique,” she explained. One cultural tradition that Hipolito finds particularly meaningful is the self-flagellation practiced in Pampanga during Holy Week—a vivid reenactment of Christ’s suffering through acts of physical penance. “I always look forward to this tradition because my mom is very religious, and I haven’t seen anything like it anywhere else,” she remarked. Hipolito also shared an anecdote that illustrates the Filipino culture of sharing and inclusivity. During a hiking trip abroad, she offered to pay for a group dinner, but a German participant misinterpreted her gesture as an insult. “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you should do that,” he told her. In response, Hipolito calmly explained that her offer stemmed from her cultural values and was not meant to offend. “Being Filipino, our culture of sharing and making everyone feel like part of a community is very special to me,” she said, underscoring the warmth intrinsic to Filipino identity. Inspirations and Aspirations When asked about historical figures who inspire her, Hipolito named Andres Bonifacio, the “Father of the Philippine Revolution” against Spanish colonial rule. “I resonate with him because he came from nothing, but he worked his way up by himself,” she said. “Like him, I want to use my journey and what I have achieved to inspire Filipinos and drive meaningful change in my community and country.” She also cited Queen Rania of Jordan and Lady Gaga as role models for their advocacy and exceptional talent, respectively. Beauty pageants hold a unique and enduring place in Filipino culture, celebrated as platforms to showcase regional pride. This often transforms into national pride when a Filipino contestant represents the country on the global stage. This collective pride is deeply rooted in Filipino values like Bayanihan (community spirit) and Pakikisama (social harmony). In this context, beauty queens become cultural ambassadors, embodying and promoting these values internationally. The Role of a Beauty Queen For Hipolito, the role of a beauty queen extends beyond the stage. “Beauty queens can leverage their advocacies to speak to the masses and inspire collective action on issues close to their hearts. That is exactly what I aimed to do in my two attempts for the Philippines,” she shared. In recent years, the culture of pageantry has evolved, placing greater emphasis on the substance of a candidate’s platform. Hipolito observed that authenticity is essential: “Some candidates, in my experience, invent an advocacy just to say they have one, even if it doesn’t resonate with them.” For her, advocacy is a deeply personal commitment—a promise to herself, her supporters, and the community that serves as her anchor. When asked about the future of beauty pageants in a digital age dominated by influencers, Hipolito expressed confidence in their continued relevance. “I believe pageants will always have a place,” she said. “While the dynamics have shifted with the rise of influencers, pageants remain a beloved form of entertainment, especially in the Philippines, where millions continue to anticipate these events as a cultural and social phenomenon.” Career Transitions and Travel Adventures Before entering the world of pageantry, Hipolito built a career as a flight stewardess from 2017 to 2020, a role she left due to airline layoffs at the onset of the pandemic. Reflecting on that chapter of her life, she remarked, “It was a graceful exit because my greatest fear is takeoff. I was living a dream that didn’t truly resonate with my heart.” Despite the rigorous selection process in the aviation industry, Hipolito found the routine limiting and opportunities for growth minimal. “I started taking online courses, which led me to my next career,” she explained. In 2021, Hipolito joined the Miss Universe Philippines pageant, proudly representing her hometown. While she did not win the crown, new opportunities emerged later that year. In December 2021, she embarked on a life-changing journey, prioritizing travel after saving up. “One of the things I prioritize when I save up money is to travel,” she shared. Her travels took her to iconic destinations in Europe, including France, Italy, and Germany. “The romantic allure of Paris captivated me with its stunning architecture and the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower,” she recounted. In Munich, she experienced the festive charm of the Christmas markets, while Italy offered timeless culture. These travels left a lasting impression, becoming a cherished chapter in her life. Embracing Cultural Differences Mirjan's travels also brought unexpected experiences, particularly during her visit to Mongolia. She vividly recalled the vast, unspoiled landscapes that offered a glimpse into the nomadic lifestyle. “The food is so different—they use meats like mutton and lamb, which are uncommon in the Philippines,” she noted. In northern Mongolia, where she sought to experience traditional life, Hipolito faced cultural differences that tested her adaptability. One memorable challenge was adjusting to pit latrine toilets, which required squatting over a deep hole. “I didn’t grow up in a very comfortable household, but I always had access to a modern toilet. When I called my mom, I said, ‘I don’t know how to do this,’” she recounted with a laugh. Over time, Hipolito embraced these challenges and gained a deeper understanding of diverse lifestyles. “As each day passed, I realized that not everyone functions the same way—and that’s okay. It encouraged me to be more open to different ways of living,” she reflected. Her journey taught her to admire the resilience of others without pitying their circumstances. “They don’t have access to water, which made me incredibly grateful for what I have,” she acknowledged. “But it also taught me to respect their way of life rather than feel sorry for them.” Hipolito highlighted the resourcefulness of the people she encountered, exclaiming, “They are so smart and resourceful in making things work under challenging conditions. That made me love the country even more—it’s so different from anything I’ve experienced before.” This journey left a lasting impact on her outlook, asserting, “It made me a more open and accepting person,” underscoring the importance of stepping into unfamiliar worlds for personal growth and appreciation of human diversity. Advocacy for Independent Travel When discussing her advocacy, Hipolito shared, “I am most passionate about helping Filipinos and encouraging them to travel independently.” What began as a modest dream during her backpacking trips to nearby Southeast Asian countries gradually expanded into more adventurous journeys to places like Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, and Oman—areas where she rarely encountered fellow Filipinos. “I often wondered, what’s holding them back from traveling on their own?” she reflected. On her Instagram page, @mirjhipolito, where she has garnered over 17,000 followers, Hipolito documents her travels and offers valuable tips and inspiration. She recounted messages from followers: “You inspired me to do this,” “You encouraged me to travel on my own,” and “It’s not as hard as I thought to travel solo.” However, she emphasizes that solo travel comes with challenges. “Sometimes, you will encounter challenges along the way,” she acknowledged, drawing from her experiences of visiting 17 countries to date. Independent travel presents unparalleled opportunities to explore the world at one’s own pace, fostering self-reliance and a deeper connection to new cultures. It is a journey of self-discovery, allowing travelers to immerse themselves in their surroundings authentically. Yet, it also involves unique challenges, such as navigating unfamiliar transportation systems and language barriers, requiring adaptability and resourcefulness. For those considering independent travel, it's vital to be mindful of cultural norms in each destination. In some cases, safety concerns may arise, making careful planning essential. Consulting official tourism boards and exploring reputable group tours can provide security and enriching experiences, ensuring travelers to navigate the world with confidence and respect for local customs. 1/5 Images provided by: Mirjan Hipolito

< Back Hautahi Kingi Kin to the River: The Life and Work of Hautahi Kingi Images Provided by Hautahi Kingi To the Whanganui people of Aotearoa New Zealand, the river is a living elder — older than any written account, and inseparable from who they are, with the quiet certainty of something that has never needed explaining. E rere kau mai te awa nui nei Mai i te kāhui maunga ki Tangaroa Ko au te awa Ko te awa ko au “Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au – I am the river, and the river is me.” In one well‑known story, Taranaki Maunga, the ancestral mountain for iwi including Ngā Rauru, once stood among the central peaks; when he fled west in grief he gouged a deep valley through the land, and the waters that filled that scar became the Whanganui River, so mountain and river are remembered as kin rather than separate things. For Hautahi Kingi (Ngā Rauru, Te Āti Haunui‑a‑Pāpārangi), this Whanganui proverb names a world in which people and place are bound like kin, the river not a view or a resource but another way of saying “we.” From his childhood near the banks of the Whanganui River and the foothills of Mount Taranaki, to his work as an economist and senior data scientist at Google, Kingi’s life traces a line between ancestral stories and contemporary tools, a line he makes visible in writing such as his long essay “The Past Matters: Reflections on Tangata Whenua.” Across policy rooms, classrooms, and the page, he carries a way of thinking in which whenua — land — is origin, memory, and responsibility rather than property. To harm the river, in this worldview, is to harm the people themselves — a conviction the wider world finally honored in 2017, when New Zealand granted the Whanganui River full legal personhood, the first river anywhere to be recognized as a living whole with rights of its own Born in Auckland, New Zealand, to his Māori father and Pākehā mother — Pākehā being a term for a non-Māori New Zealander of European descent — Kingi began living in his father’s homeland of Pākaraka when he was two years old. Pākaraka is a small rural settlement near Whanganui, in the shadows of Mount Taranaki on the west coast of New Zealand’s North Island. As Kingi described his father’s childhood there, “Pākaraka was an unmodern world where horses were commonly used for transportation and work. Many houses during his father’s youth did not have electricity or running water. It was also a place where traditional Māori beliefs were still deeply held.” The Old Ways of Keeping For instance, his father is a whāngai child — raised according to the Māori customary practice of whāngai, in which a child is brought up by someone other than their birth parents, usually within the wider whānau, in an open, kin-based arrangement that maintains the child’s connections to both sets of parents. After his older brother died at a young age, Kingi’s father was adopted into another branch of the whānau as a whāngai as a means of spiritual protection. Two Ways of Bidding Farewell In Aotearoa New Zealand, a marae is a community meeting place made up of a ceremonial courtyard and buildings such as the meeting house and dining hall, where Māori families and tribes gather for welcomes, funerals, celebrations, and important discussions, and where language, customs, and ancestral connections are actively lived and maintained. When asked about a specific memory he has about his marae, Kingi talked about the customs around a funeral which they call tangihanga. A traditional funeral takes place in one of the buildings in the marae. “It is an open casket funeral where the family spends the night and brings their food. Over the process of three days, visitors come in and out. There is acceptance and sharing of grief that is quite profound. ” Each night, people share their whaikōrero, or formal farewell speeches followed by a song. The tangihanga, or tangi, concludes with a communal feast called the hākari following the burial. This meal serves as a gesture of thanksgiving and signals the lifting of death-related tapu (restrictions), with mourners often contributing koha (monetary gifts) to support it. While singing plays a role throughout the broader ceremony — particularly during the Poroporoaki, the farewell gathering held the night before burial — it is not a defining element of the feast itself. The evening after the burial is known as the pō whakangahau, a time set aside for rest and light entertainment. In contrast to a Western funeral where Kingi explains, “the process of grieving tends to be more private and the funeral is over within an hour or so.” Western funerals prioritize individual grief and structured ceremony, reflecting a culture that values privacy, efficiency, and closure — death is mourned, marked, and then life resumes. The Māori approach, by contrast, treats death as a communal event that belongs to everyone, where time slows down, obligations to the deceased and their family are fulfilled collectively, and the transition out of life is honored with the same weight as any major life event. One tradition asks mourners to attend; the other asks them to show up entirely. Success and the Profound Meaning of Contribution As a well‑accomplished individual living in the Western world, Kingi was asked to define what success means to him in relation to his Māori tradition. “Career, business, or financial success weren’t discussed or considered, at least from my perspective growing up.” What mattered more was not a person’s title but their contributions: it could be “the person who ran the kitchen, an elder who delivered a speech, or the person who created carvings or songs,” all of whom helped sustain the community. In that world, family events such as welcoming a new baby are deeply acknowledged and celebrated as markers of a life well lived. As Kingi moved deeper into Western institutions, his understanding of achievement underwent a quiet but significant reorientation. “Success and failure is a relative concept,” he reflected. “I knew that doing well or not doing well in an exam, in one part of my life, was valued and is an important thing, but meant little in a different part of my life. I knew that I just needed to work hard towards whatever I personally valued because that was the only way to gain satisfaction — and that, really, is what success means.” For Kingi, success was never about external validation — it was about living in alignment with his own values and responsibilities. Everyone has a Hidden Talent Flowing from this broader view of success, Kingi also emphasised the importance of recognising the diversity of talents and skill sets. “Someone may not be an eloquent speaker so they will not contribute that way, but they may be good with their hands so they will contribute that way. You cannot really judge anyone by what you see up front because they all have talents that are untold.” Even in the high‑pressure environment of Google, he notes, “people are built in to be smart. When I have a problem, there is always someone smarter than me that I can turn to.” Together, these reflections sketch a vision of success grounded in contribution, humility, and the quiet strengths that often go unseen. Between Struggles and Negotiations “Ka whawhai tonu mātou, ake! ake! ake!” — “We will continue to fight, forever and ever and ever” — captures exactly what Kingi argues in his 2015 essay “The Past Matters”: that the struggles of the nineteenth century are not over, but live on in the present through land loss, data practices, and ongoing claims to Māori sovereignty. The phrase arose from the New Zealand Wars of the 1860s, when Māori forces faced British troops in brutal campaigns across Taranaki and Waikato and still refused to surrender at places like Ōrākau, turning those battlefields into symbols of an unbroken resolve to resist. In Kingi’s work, that history flows forward into the present — and his own life is part of that current. As a child of that legacy, he was only nine years old when he became one of the first Māori students to enter an elite private school on scholarship, moving not outside but through a system that might easily have tried to absorb him. That same negotiation followed him into his professional life. Kingi himself put it this way: “There are some interesting conflicts that arise in my work between core tenets of my profession and concepts that are valued in the Maori world. For example, the tech world’s preference for anonymous, depersonalized information brushes up against the importance placed by Maori on the importance of identity, and knowing who a datapoint represents before analyzing or making judgements.” In that sense, Māori were never truly overcome — military defeat did not erase their language, identity, or tino rangatiratanga, but pushed the struggle into new arenas where memory, presence, and relational accountability become forms of resistance. It is no coincidence that Kingi was born in 1987, the same year te reo Māori was made an official language of Aotearoa New Zealand, tying his life and work to a wider resurgence that proves the old promise “we will continue to fight” still beats inside contemporary stories, classrooms, code, and conversations. A Song Across Time In Māori culture, the karanga is much more than a formal greeting; it is a kind of ancestral serenade, an exchange of calls that draws people, place, and memory into the same breath. As the first woman rises to call, her voice doesn’t just reach the visitors—it reaches backwards, too, acknowledging those who have gathered on that ground before and the ancestors who still linger there, listening. Each karanga unfolds like a song across time: it names the living who approach, yet it also recognises that the marae is never occupied by the present alone. As Kingi explains, “it is seen as strengthening of the relationship between the physical and spiritual realm,” a reminder that any meeting is also a reunion with those who came before, and with the stories they left behind. The answering call from the visitors completes that serenade, not by erasing distance but by honouring it—two sides calling to each other across land, time, and genealogy until, step by step, they draw close enough to stand together. Quiet Assumptions, Loud Consequences Kingi’s perspective in the short report he co‑authored in 2016, Unconscious Bias and Education: A Comparative Study of Māori and African American Students, published under the auspices of Oranui, is that the most dangerous racism in schools is often the kind that doesn’t feel like racism at all—quiet, automatic assumptions that lower expectations for certain students while claiming to treat everyone the same. In that work, produced from his base at Cornell University, he treats unconscious bias as a “natural” human tendency shaped by history and culture, but insists that educators have a responsibility to notice how it lands on Māori and African American children in particular. For a young Māori reader, his advice is both practical and subversive: teachers are an important source of knowledge, but they are only one source of knowledge and opinion; if you are interested in something, you should seek out other people who have insight in that same area instead of letting a single classroom define what you are capable of. Speaking directly to young people who find themselves isolated in elite spaces, he tells them that if they feel like they are on their own, that is usually not true, that they got there somehow, and that they can take it as an opportunity to be unique and to forge a new path for the next ninety people who will arrive after them. When Kingi was growing up, there were no visible Māori mathematicians or economists around him, but that absence did not mean his people lacked the ability—it simply meant the system did not yet expect them there. By becoming a Māori economist himself and co‑authoring a 2016 study on unconscious bias through Oranui and Cornell, he has quietly used his own path through elite education into an argument that bias can be unlearned and futures rewritten. The Conflict between Norms and Progress Kingi’s reflections offer a nuanced, insider critique of how certain Māori cultural norms intersect with younger generations’ ideas of progress. In his words, “there is definitely a conflict between ways of working, so that anonymity versus focal point thing I talked about earlier,” capturing the tension between traditional expectations of humility and collective orientation, and contemporary pressures to be visible and individually prominent. He also notes that “there are conflicts in terms of what is valued, so that career success versus family success, for example,” highlighting the way professional ambition can feel at odds with obligations to whānau and community. Kingi then moves into more contentious territory, suggesting that “there are some Māori traditions that maybe ought to be questioned, in that they are against what we might call cultural or moral progress in some ways.” He acknowledges the social cost of raising these concerns: “I’ve written just a little bit about this and received some pushback,” yet maintains that “maybe that is a conversation worth having, and that conflict needs to happen.” His central example concerns the gendered allocation of roles on the marae. He observes that “for example, there are roles on the marae that are very segregated in a way that I think is a shame.” Specifically, “the people who do the karanga are women,” while “the people who do the whaikōrero—which is the centrepiece, the high‑status performance on the marae—are men,” and “when seated on the marae, the men sit in front of the women.” For Kingi, “gender matters a lot in the allocation of roles on the marae, and I think that is not necessarily a good thing.” On this basis, he concludes, “I think it is worth questioning those things, because arguably they do stand in the way of a certain type of progress.” Viewed through the lens of Chesterton’s fence—the idea that we should understand why a tradition or institution exists before altering or discarding it—Kingi’s stance is broadly positive and constructive. He does not dismiss Māori practices as arbitrary; instead, he speaks as someone who recognizes their depth and significance, even as he insists that “maybe that is a conversation worth having, and that conflict needs to happen.” In effect, he treats these customs as meaningful structures that first demand understanding and respect, but then invites a critical question: if certain arrangements, such as rigidly gendered roles on the marae, “do stand in the way of a certain type of progress,” is it time to reconsider how the “fence” is built, so that it continues to protect cultural identity without unduly limiting the aspirations and equality of younger Māori, especially women? Who Owes What to Whom Drawing on his academic work on “The Dynamic Effects of Immigration” and his chapter “International Migration: The Great Trade-Off” in Fair Borders?, where he traces how migration shifts welfare between wealthy households and workers over time, Kingi is asked what a fair “intergenerational contract” on immigration might look like—one that balances the interests of today’s rich and poor with those of tomorrow’s migrants. He almost recoils at the scale of the question, admitting, “this is a huge societal question… I don’t even know how to express it,” a striking hesitation from someone who has spent years quantifying those very trade-offs. In the interview he returns to the same terrain that animates his writing, describing immigration as sitting at the junction of “ethics… the philosophy of morality… and economics,” where choices about who can move, and on what terms, become choices about what current citizens owe to future newcomers. Framing policy as an “intergenerational contract” simply makes explicit what his research already implies: that border decisions today quietly lock in the life chances of people who have not yet arrived, often shifting returns “in favour of wealthy households at the expense of workers” during long transition periods. No Miracle Jumps In reflecting on career advice for young people, Kingi pushes back against the allure of prestige and social media narratives, grounding his perspective in steady effort and genuine interest. He cautions against fixating on specific companies, noting, “You need to make sure you’re doing it not for whatever company you want to end up in, because that company might not exist,” adding that even Google “wasn’t something you could have planned for” years ago. Instead, he frames success as a chain of logical steps rather than a dramatic leap: “At no point… was there some kind of miracle jump,” he explains, describing how his path grew from simply enjoying math, working hard, and progressing through opportunities. Kingi is particularly critical of how online content distorts expectations, warning that “taking content that’s online as an accurate representation” of careers is misleading, as viral glimpses of “Google parties” or perks represent “like 1% of the job.” The reality, he says, is far less glamorous—“hours at a desk… working endlessly, struggling to understand things”—but ultimately more meaningful for those willing to commit to the process. The River Was Always Him From childhood, the Whanganui serenaded Hautahi Kingi — not as scenery, but as a lifeline, the same current that had carried his people through generations of survival and loss. He has built econometric models at the frontier of labour research, produced work that shapes how nations understand their own people, and written essays that reach back centuries to make sense of the present — but the Whanganui still runs through the thinking, the way blood runs through kin. The proverb his people have lived by — Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au — is not a sentiment he recites; it is the declaration of a man who understands the river not as landscape but as family, as self, as the oldest relative he has. He came of age as the river was finding its own recognition in the eyes of the law — and like the Whanganui, he too has had to make himself legible to a world not built around Māori ways of knowing, without ever surrendering what those ways protect. The river was given legal personhood in 2017, but the Whanganui people never needed the law to tell them what they already knew: that to be of this place is to be of this river, bound to it the way kin are bound — not by choice, but by blood. He is, as the proverb has always insisted, the river — and the river is him. Hautahi Kingi.JPG Hautahi Kingi.jpg Hautahi Kingi.jpg Hautahi Kingi.JPG 1/4 Images Provided by Hautahi Kingi Previous Next

Fluid Gold Journal is an online journal publication, featuring dynamic substance and engaging lives from Filipinos and Asian communities across the globe. Fifth Edition, June 2026 The Creative's Serenade Actor, Director Victor Yadne Hautahi Kingi Economist, Data Scientist Ron Yuan Master Bone Sculptor Darwin Masbang Hair & Makeup Artist Jeonghyun Park Fashion Designer Actor, Director, Producer ART GALLERY Leslie de Chavez Yessiow Inna Yadne Crystal Worl

Previous Next Elizabeth Clenci Harmony Within and Without: Filipino Heritage and the Pursuit of Holistic Health Images provided by Elizabeth Clenci In traditional Asian thought, health is more than the absence of disease—it’s a harmonious interplay of body, mind, spirit, environment, and social relationships. From Chinese and Indian philosophies to Filipino and Vietnamese practices, this holistic view values proactive care, daily practices, and balance as essential to life’s vitality. Illness is not an isolated event to be treated reactively, but a sign of imbalance in the ecosystem of our lives. By nurturing harmony—within oneself and with the world—one creates a foundation for resilience and growth. In contrast, Western approaches often treat symptoms in isolation, missing the interconnectedness that Asian traditions hold sacred. ROOTS OF RESILIENCE Elizabeth Clenci’s path reflects this integrative perspective. Born in Australia to a Filipina mother and Romanian father, Clenci was grounded in the rich traditions of her maternal roots—traditions where health security is seen as a communal, daily practice of balance. Her mother, from Cebu and Mindanao—regions celebrated for their dynamic cultures—imparted these values early on. Cebu, with its famed lechon and the vibrant Sinulog Festival, pulses with life-affirming traditions, while Mindanao’s rich musical heritage, including the kulintang and other gongs, taught her the power of rhythm and connection. Growing up in predominantly white Australia, Clenci felt these cultural practices as an anchor. She remembered being one of only two Asian students in her primary school, yet always finding comfort in her family’s daily rituals—sharing meals, honoring elders, and gathering to celebrate music and community. Her mother instilled a respect for family and elders, a principle she carries forward. “Respect for everyone is at the heart of Filipino culture,” Clenci noted, recognizing how this mirrors the reverence Indigenous communities in Australia hold for their own elders. PAGEANTRY AS A PLATFORM FOR PURPOSE This grounding in holistic well-being naturally wove itself into Clenci’s pursuits. As a child, she would watch the Binibining Pilipinas pageant on television with her grandmother, dreaming out loud, “I will be there one day.” In 2011, she fulfilled this promise, stepping onto the Binibining Pilipinas stage in Manila. Although she carried with her the sadness of her grandmother’s passing the year before, her presence was a tribute to the woman who first sparked her dream. HONORING ANCESTRY THROUGH ARTISTRY At the pageant, Clenci wore a national costume designed by Jearson Demavivas, earning the Best in National Costume award. Even in her earliest pageant appearance, she understood that pageantry was not merely a showcase of beauty, but a stage for embodying values—confidence, kindness, and cultural pride. Six years later, Clenci returned stronger and more rooted in these values. She earned the title of 2nd Runner-Up at Miss Grand International 2017, wearing a T’boli-inspired gown by Demavivas—an exquisite creation that paid homage to the T’boli tribe. The ensemble featured the T’nalak fabric and the hegelung, a native T’boli guitar, both symbols of her rich cultural heritage and love for music. Intricate beadwork and cultural motifs adorned the gown, offering a modern interpretation of a T’boli princess and reinforces Clenci’s commitment to honoring her roots on the global stage. ADVOCACY FOR PEACE AND PERSONAL AGENCY “People think peace is only a governmental issue, but it begins within us,” she asserted. Her appointment that same year as a peace ambassador by the Office of the Presidential Adviser on the Peace Process (OPAPP) emphasized her belief in personal agency. Education, she said, is the key—empowering individuals to shape healthier, more harmonious communities. MUSIC AS A METAPHOR FOR LIFE This philosophy of synergy also threads through her work as a musician. Having studied contemporary and improvisational music in Sydney, alongside classical training at the University of Santo Tomas in the Philippines, Clenci’s music is as diverse as her heritage. She draws from the pulsating beat of the Tinikling—where dancers nimbly weave between clashing bamboo poles—as a metaphor for Filipino resilience. “Music is a whole ecosystem,” she said. “The steady beat is life’s forward momentum. Just as music never stops, neither does the Filipino spirit of Tiyaga—perseverance.” HEALING FROM WITHIN For Clenci, health became deeply personal when she faced a severe case of eczema in 2014—a condition that tested her physically and mentally for over a year. “It was painful, and it felt like it was written on my face. It was hard to see beyond that,” she shared. Yet, drawing from the Asian principle of proactive care, she approached her recovery holistically: educating herself, rethinking her lifestyle, and seeking balance in her mind and environment. Transforming her pain into purpose, she became a detoxification specialist and health advocate, grounding her advocacy in lived experience. “I have been through a lot since I was young, suffering emotionally and physically,” she said. “But it was not in vain. To be able to help others is worth it.” SHARING WISDOM AND MINDFUL LIVING On her social media platforms, Clenci shares insights on mindful living—encouraging others to eat well, hydrate, and honor their bodies as sacred vessels. She sees health not as a quick fix, but as an ongoing dialogue between self, environment, and society. To those navigating their own challenges, she offers this advice: “Being able to embrace your vulnerability is your greatest strength. Sometimes the person who is less qualified is the person who is most qualified to speak. At the end of the day, all we want is to be vulnerable, be yourself, and be able to connect with others.” Her story affirms the timeless wisdom of Asian traditions: that true well-being is found in the balance of all things—body and mind, family and community, spirit and environment. In this harmony, Elizabeth Clenci continues to live—and to inspire—a life of health, purpose, and service. As she says, “Life is bigger than you, and life is about service.” INCANDESCENCE THROUGH ADVERSITY Yet, beyond balance alone, there is something luminous in the way Clenci has lived her life—a quality best captured by the word incandescent. Not merely glowing, but burning with a fierce inner light born of struggle, clarity, and compassion. To be incandescent is to shine not despite hardship, but because of it. Clenci’s journey—through cultural duality, physical pain, and emotional endurance—has lit a path for others, transforming personal challenge into radiant purpose. Elizabeth Clenci.jpeg Elizabeth Clenci.jpg Elizabeth Clenci.jpeg Elizabeth Clenci.jpeg 1/4 Images provided by Elizabeth Clenci

Previous Next Roman Zaragoza Owning Complexity, Creating Connection Images provided by Roman Zaragoza Roman Zaragoza is an actor, director, and producer who brings his layered background and lived experience into every project he takes on. Known for his role as Sasappis on CBS’s Ghosts, he has also stepped behind the camera to direct and produce films that focus on identity, representation, and community. His work is not just about performance—it’s about creating space for stories that often go unheard. Raised in a multicultural household with Japanese, Taiwanese, Akimel O’odham, and Mexican heritage, Zaragoza grew up navigating what it meant to belong. “My parents didn’t teach me the languages, but they did everything they could to integrate me back into culture,” he said. He described his childhood in New York City as one where being mixed was common: “It was normal to be mixed… there was a lot of us—Mexican and white, Asian and Latino, Black and Asian.” These early experiences continue to shape the way he approaches his work and the communities he represents. GROWING UP BETWEEN CULTURES Roman Zaragoza was born in New York City to a multicultural family—his father is of Mexican heritage, while his mother is of Asian descent, specifically Japanese and Taiwanese. During his childhood, his family relocated to Los Angeles, where his parents continue to reside. This transition from the vibrant, multicultural environment of New York to the distinct social landscape of Los Angeles proved to be a pivotal experience in his upbringing. Reflecting on the move, Zaragoza noted the stark contrast: “There were definitely a lot more white students,” he recalled. “Most of my peers were mono-racial, and the cultural atmosphere was remarkably different. NAVIGATING NEW ENVIRONMENTS This early experience of moving between cultures shaped Zaragoza’s perspective and continues to inform his work today. He often reflects on the unique challenges of being mixed-race, thoughtfully channeling his multifaceted background into his craft. He is widely recognized for his portrayal of Sasappis, the creative and insightful Lenape ghost on CBS’s Ghosts. “I’m an actor playing a character that is Native,” he noted. “I’m not playing a mixed character, but it’s been easier to show up in the Native community because there’s that direct representation and direct image I can promote and talk about.” At the same time, navigating his Asian heritage has presented its own set of complexities. As he shared, “a lot of Asian organizations don’t understand that I’m also Asian,” highlighting the difficulty of being fully seen within either community. In response, Zaragoza has become increasingly involved in Asian organizations and outreach, striving to make his Asian identity more visible and to build greater understanding and connection within those communities. A MOTHER’S JOURNEY AND FAMILY PRIDE Zaragoza’s reflections on identity are deeply rooted in his family’s story, especially his mother’s journey as an immigrant. “My mom moved to the U.S. when she was three, and she didn’t learn Japanese because she was supposed to be the light for her family,” he said. “She was one of two Asian kids in her class, but she didn’t let that dim her. She worked so hard and created a family that supported us and let our lights shine.” This sense of pride and responsibility extends to his advocacy beyond acting. As a producer on This Is Their Land, he explained, “We were able to bring in direct descendants—Debbie Riddle and Taylor Tupper,” and described the project as “a love letter to the descendants of their people. We’re not trying to make money or win awards. We want to make sure it’s told right.” FACING CHALLENGES OF REPRESENTATION The complexities of identity and representation are never far from Zaragoza’s mind. He spoke candidly about the difficulties of telling authentic stories from marginalized communities, acknowledging the inevitable scrutiny that comes with the territory. “It’s complicated, and it’s hard… there’s always going to be people who say, ‘this didn’t happen, that didn’t happen.’ But all you can do is remind yourself why you’re making it.” For him, this sense of purpose is deeply connected to questions of identity. When asked how he would celebrate the full spectrum of his heritage in a stage production, he didn’t hesitate: the theme, he said, would be identity. He went on to ask, “Who defines who we are? Is it that we are able to self-identify or are we identifying ourselves for others to understand us?” These questions reflect not only his personal journey, but also the ongoing negotiation between self-perception and external expectations that shapes the experience of anyone who straddles multiple cultures—on stage, and in life. FINDING FREEDOM IN THEATER Zaragoza’s exploration of identity extends into his theater work as well. He recounted the experience of playing Orlando in As You Like It as transformative. “It wasn’t about race—it was about love, fear, anger, family, and humor,” he said. “I self-identify as a hopeless romantic, and it was so nice to just be that on stage without having to talk about my cultural identity at all.” He described the freedom of playing a character who wasn’t tied to any racial identity, adding, “It made me think, ‘Is this what other actors get to do all the time? This is so freeing.’” Zaragoza also shared a story about performing Off the Rails at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, where he forgot a line and found himself burying his head into a scene partner’s lap. “Our stage manager definitely made fun of me… but it was pretty funny,” he said. These moments, both serious and lighthearted, illustrate the range of experiences that have shaped his artistic journey. REDEFINING SUCCESS ON HIS OWN TERMS Throughout his journey, Zaragoza has learned to see challenges as opportunities for growth. “The word incandescent—it’s about shining and being illuminated through heat,” he explained. “I’ve been through challenges that felt like they were holding me back, but they’ve let me shine brighter in the end.” One such challenge was not getting into his dream college. “I had this whole plan—five, ten years out—and it all fell apart,” he recounted. Rather than letting this setback define him, he used it as an opportunity to pursue film production, saying, “I didn’t want to wait for people to give me permission to do what I love… so I could write, direct, and produce my own projects. And then people started coming to me because I was doing my own thing.” Zaragoza spoke of how he grew up “very disconnected and disenfranchised from my homelands,” and expressed interest in a project exploring how others like him might reconnect. “I wanted to see how my life would change when I went to Asia… there are a lot of us who grew up without their countries of origin,” he said. For those still searching for their place, Zaragoza offered an encouragement: “Keep doing you. Be honest with yourself about what you want… and remember there are always doors—always another way in. Climb up the fire escape, go through the side porch. Just keep going.” EMBRACING COMPLEXITY AS STRENGTH For Zaragoza, identity is not a fixed destination, but a continual process of discovery. He acknowledges growing up “very disconnected and disenfranchised” from his homelands, and continues to explore the many layers of his background. With Japanese, Taiwanese, Akimel O’odham and Mexican heritage, he doesn’t claim full fluency in each tradition, but he honors what they offer. Across his work—whether portraying Sasappis, collaborating with descendants on film, or developing projects that support others navigating cultural disconnection—he brings a sense of care and curiosity. The word incandescent and its profound meaning resonates in how he faces challenges: not as barriers, but as moments that clarify. For Zaragoza, complexity isn’t something to overcome—it’s something to stand in, learn from, and carry forward. Roman Zaragoza.jpeg Roman Zaragoza.jpeg Roman Zaragoza.jpeg Roman Zaragoza.jpeg 1/3 Images provided by Roman Zaragoza

Lê Ngọc Lâm Architecture and Haute Couture: A Harmonious Fusion of Vision and Reality Though architecture and haute couture design may seem worlds apart, they share a profound connection in their ability to transform visionary concepts into tangible masterpieces. Vietnamese designer Lê Ngọc Lâm exemplifies this synergy with his innovative approach to reconstructing fabric, resulting in magnificent creations that embody elegance and sophistication. LÊ NGỌC LÂM'S VISIONARY CREATIONS Lê Ngọc Lâm's "Dew Collection" features a stunning red dress that captivates with its ethereal beauty and intricate design. It was modeled by Lê Nguyễn Bảo Ngọc (Miss Intercontinental 2022 Vietnam) at the Vietnam Beauty Fashion Fest (VBFF) All Stars Season 7, which took place on June 23, 2024. This masterpiece draws inspiration from the delicate phenomenon of dew formation in the early morning hours, evoking the image of countless droplets clinging to petals and leaves. Constructed from an astounding 400 meters of red tulle, the gown showcases perfect symmetry and exemplifies Lê Ngọc Lâms meticulous attention to detail and precision. The creation of this dress reflects collective artisanship, involving multiple skilled craftspeople working in harmony. By translating natural phenomena into wearable art, Lê Ngọc Lâm demonstrates his ability to blend conceptual design with flawless craftsmanship, resulting in a garment that is not only visually arresting but also deeply meaningful. EARLY LIFE AND PASSION FOR FASHION Lê Ngọc Lâm, born in 1990 in a small rural area in Southern Vietnam, was raised in a farming family. At just 8 years old, a deep interest in fashion took root, sparked by old fashion magazines that he bought with his own savings and by watching fashion shows on TV. This early fascination became the foundation for his ambition to enter the fashion industry, setting him on a course distinct from his family's farming background. His journey reflects a determination to study hard and pursue his dreams for a better future for himself and his family. ACADEMIC JOURNEY AND CAREER CHOICE After being accepted into both Ho Chi Minh City University of Architecture and the University of Economics, Lê Ngọc Lâm made a decisive choice in one day to pursue industrial fine arts at the University of Architecture. After two years of general studies, Lê Ngọc Lâm explained, "I decided to specialize in fashion design. I knew my greatest strength was in spatial thinking, and I applied that to my fashion products to create a unique style that no one else in my class had." He added, "Architecture helps me think about shapes, and fashion allows me to analyze the shapes of the body, enhancing the advantages and structure of a beautiful figure. I seamlessly integrate architecture with fashion in this way." INNOVATIVE TECHNIQUES AND UNIQUE STYLE Lê Ngọc Lâm's creations stand out in the fashion world due to his meticulous hand-processing techniques and unique vision. He transforms fabric through dyeing, printing, or deconstructing and reconstructing it to create exclusive pieces. By blending traditional Vietnamese techniques such as chain-stitching, hand embroidery, and weaving with modern design, Lê Ngọc Lâm produces garments that are both culturally rich and contemporary. His signature works include voluminous dresses made from tulle, organza, and specially woven Vietnamese silk, which are not only environmentally friendly but also offer a high-end appeal. Particularly captivating are his stone and crystal-encrusted gowns, where the strategic placement of crystals on sheer fabric creates a stunning effect. When worn, these gowns are reminiscent of bioluminescent organisms adhered to the woman's body, as if she were emerging from water, glistening like stars in the night sky. Additionally, Lê Ngọc Lâm's versatility shines through in pieces like the white gown featured above, which is adorned with feathers. In contrast with some of the form-fitting gowns he creates, this dress is romantic, playful, and confident. It evokes memories of Joan Crawford in her iconic Letty Lynton dress from the 1930s. INTERNATIONAL RECOGNITION AND CHALLENGES It took Lê Ngọc Lâm a long time to find his own path and voice in design. He learned from major designers worldwide but utilized traditional Vietnamese techniques to create something that looks international yet carries his unique mark as a designer from Vietnam. Lê Ngọc Lâm has showcased his latest collections at large runways in Vietnam, where his products have been well-received and sold immediately after the shows. However, reaching the international market has been challenging. So far, he has managed to sell his products in China and the United States, though in limited quantities. Most of his international orders come through social media. Lê Ngọc Lâm's talent has not gone unnoticed internationally. He has been fortunate to work with Miss Universe 2007 Riyo Mori (Japan) and Miss Universe 2011 Leila Lopes (Angola). Most recently, he received an order from Nicki Minaj's stylist for her upcoming tour in September. CULTURAL INSPIRATION AND FUTURE VISION Lê Ngọc Lâm draws inspiration from Vietnam's rich cultural heritage, including historical landmarks like the ancient capital of Hue, royal tombs of old dynasties, and the country's long stretches of beaches. These elements serve as the main inspirations for many of his collections, honoring the beauty of Vietnamese culture while remaining unique. Looking to the future, Lê Ngọc Lâm believes that social media has made the world very accessible. He focuses on creating good and quality products to reach a vast number of potential customers from anywhere, rather than solely relying on beauty pageants or specific events to build his career. DEDICATION AND FUTURE ASPIRATIONS Lê Ngọc Lâm imparts valuable advice that he would give to himself: "Stay passionate, work wholeheartedly." He emphasizes, "If you are not satisfied with the present, there are still many opportunities for future growth. You can't know your limits until you explore them." Lam believes that combining fashion with traditional craftsmanship is key to finding a unique path and establishing something that is uniquely Vietnamese—this is the path he follows to secure a place in the competitive market. While his work designing for international beauty pageant contestants has provided some global exposure, Lê Ngọc Lâm sees this as just a small facet of his broader career vision. He recognizes that beauty pageants are "a good way to connect with the international market," but they are not his ultimate goal. Lê Ngọc Lâm states, "The global population is very large, and pageants represent a very small fraction. I don't focus on them to build my career." Instead, he concentrates on his core values, learning new skills, and working with traditional materials to reach a broader audience. For him, beauty pageants are "just a small passion and do not significantly impact my design career." LEGACY AND FUTURE IMPACT Lê Ngọc Lâm's work goes beyond conventional fashion, masterfully blending architectural principles with couture to elevate Vietnamese design on the global stage. Like the concept of "form follows function" in architecture, Lê Ngọc Lâm's designs seamlessly merge aesthetics with purpose, creating garments that are both visually stunning and structurally innovative. His meticulous artistry, deeply rooted in cultural heritage and sustainability, establishes him as a pioneering figure in the fashion world. Lê Ngọc Lâm's journey from rural Vietnam to international acclaim exemplifies discipline and tenacity, inspiring emerging designers worldwide. As he continues to push boundaries in design, Lê Ngọc Lâm reshapes the fashion landscape and paves the way for a more diverse, sustainable, and culturally rich future. His commitment to Vietnamese traditions and techniques, combined with his innovative vision, serves as a powerful reminder that with talent, dedication, and cultural pride, one can make a lasting impact on the global stage. 1/3 Images provided by: Le Ngoc Lam