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< Back 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 Previous Next

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Fluid Gold Journal is an online journal publication, featuring dynamic substance and engaging lives from Filipinos and Asian communities across the globe. In Focus: Creative's Introspection Nguyễn Manh Lan Vietnamese Model & Actor, Mr. Vietnam 2024, 1st Runner-up Mr. International 2024 Mirjan Hipolito Filipina Beauty Queen & Travel Writer Shaira Ventura Tausug Fashion Model Arman Nurmukhanbetov Kazahk Cultural Historian & Shaman James Ramsey Korean American Architect & Inventor Charlie Le Grice Maori Multidisciplinary Professional ART GALLERY KATRINA PALLON Filipina Artist MEGAN FOO SINGAPOREAN ARTIST MARIO MERCADO AN HOMAGE TO A FILIPINO ARTIST 1938-2021 Travel & Lifestyle Diary Studio Bumi Studio Bumi Studio Bumi Studio Bumi 1/5 Studio Bumi: Indonesian Communal Dining in Brooklyn NY by: Bagus Ruswandi | Indonesia How It All Began For as long as I can remember, I’ve tied my self-worth to being useful to others. Now, at 32, I’m rewriting that narrative—I don’t want to be useful; instead, I want to add value. Studio Bumi began in my studio apartment in Park Slope in the fall of 2023. I had moved to the US in the summer of 2021 for grad school, leaving behind a legal career in Indonesia. I was navigating life in New York City, balancing new opportunities with the challenges of starting over in a new country. By the fall of 2023, I was laid off from my job at a law firm—a moment that left me grappling with uncertainty but also gave me space to reimagine what I wanted my life to be. The transition was daunting, but I reminded myself how lucky I was to uproot my life at 29, fly halfway across the world, and build something new—not just to make a living but to create a life. Cooking for Others for the First Time After I got laid off, I suddenly had all the time in the world. Between bouts of anxiety, I turned to cooking as a creative outlet. I binge-watched TikTok and YouTube tutorials, bought way too many kitchen gadgets, and threw myself into experimenting in the kitchen. I wouldn’t call myself a natural chef, but I’d always been comfortable in the kitchen—helping my family prep meals or clean up after dinner. That familiarity gave me the confidence to start. I began inviting friends over for lunch, serving dishes that I’d learned or improvised. Those lunches quickly became the highlight of my week (I hope they felt the same). For me, the meals weren’t just about food—they were about slowing down, creating something, and fostering a sense of connection. Week by week, I became more confident in the kitchen and more energized by the idea of creating a space for others to share a meal. How It Became a Communal Dining Project A few months after going full-time with Studio Bumi, I crossed paths with Monica and Jackson from ThirdSpace NYC. They were building this beautiful project in Bushwick—in a loft dedicated to reimagining public spaces and fostering intentional community events through financially accessible programs and collaborations with other local communities. It felt like the perfect sign. Every Friday, I’d show up at ThirdSpace, post the menu online, and cook. At first, there were five guests. Soon, it grew to a steady 15 people every week for the next nine months. It was surreal. From every person I cooked with and shared stories with, celebrating my 32nd birthday, learning how to give "chef's remarks," meeting some of the first volunteers for the studio, even becoming the co-founder of the project itself, connecting with new friends I know will be in my life for a long time, and making connections that will last me a lifetime. This chapter of my life was like living a dream while wide awake. From these community lunches, I started hearing stories from people who felt isolated in the city. New York can be overwhelming and lonely. Those conversations inspired me to create something more intentional: a space where people could come together over a meal, not just to eat but to connect meaningfully. A New Kind of Pop-Up: Guided Conversations Over Dinner At Studio Bumi, the food is just the gateway. What truly sets our communal dining apart is the element of guided conversation—an intentional effort to help my guests connect on a deeper level, or at least close to it. Unlike regular pop-ups, where strangers may sit side by side without ever exchanging a word, I am always adamant about inviting my guests to share something about themselves. Before dinner, I let them know they’ll be part of a guided conversation, with questions like, “Can you share your name and one good thing that happened to you this week?” This simple prompt often becomes a thread for the evening. Guests pick up on each other’s stories, and conversations ripple across the table—even reaching those sitting all the way on the other side. By the end of the night, many guests find themselves still talking about the good things they shared. During the dinner, while I have my partners and volunteers prep the food, I try to work the room. I support guests who may look a little lost, help them connect with their neighbors, and encourage the conversation to flow organically from one part of the table to another. It’s about creating a space where everyone feels seen and heard. The Connection Continues Post-Dinner The communal dining doesn’t just stop at dinner. After each event, guests receive a link where they can submit short blurbs about themselves—anything they’d like to share. These submissions are then compiled and shared with the other attendees, creating a space for conversations to continue or even new ones to begin. Whether it’s connecting over shared interests or revisiting an unfinished dinner conversation, this follow-up allows the community to grow beyond the table. It’s a way to bridge the gaps in the room and ensure no connection is left unexplored. Rooted in Home I chose to focus on Indonesian food for two reasons. First, because it felt close to home—and honestly, I’m my own toughest critic. Second, because I wanted to reconnect with a part of myself I had spent the past two years trying to detach from: home. I was so focused on trying to “make it in New York City” that I was already forgetting where I came from, what my stories meant, and what values I could add. This is why the communal dining experience is rooted in the Indonesian tradition of family-style meals. These events aim to bring strangers together in a meaningful way. For me, every event is more than just a meal—it’s an opportunity to connect, share thoughtful conversations, and build lasting relationships. The key is creating a consistent space where connections can start to flourish and doing it over and over again. Where We Are Today One year later, Studio Bumi has served over 300 clients through its Indonesian lunch sets, hosted five communal dining events with more than 150 dinner guests, held 30 community lunches at ThirdSpace, and made some occasional corporate appearances. Most notably, our last communal dining was hosted at the Indonesian Consulate—at their invitation! It was surreal to imagine, and honestly, everything felt like a blur. Looking ahead, we want to continue making our dining experiences more accessible—whether through increased frequency, regularity, or financial accessibility. This December, we’re excited to host our first restaurant pop-up at Rodeo in Crown Heights in collaboration with our friends at Off-Menu Magazine and Fellows Collective, and in the new year, we plan to expand our communal dining events and introduce even more exciting offerings. I never imagined I’d be able to start a business that’s also a labor of love—let alone in this city. Every single day is an opportunity to learn, and I feel incredibly lucky to do this. The food is just the beginning. It’s the people who make Studio Bumi what it is, and I’m endlessly grateful for every single person who has joined me at the table. Images provided by: Bagus Ruswandi, Founder

< Back James Ramsey Building a Future through Symbiotic Opposition: James Ramsey's Lowline and the Harmony of Urban Nature Architecture thrives with symbiotic opposition, and New York City exemplifies this dynamic contrast, balancing innovation with preservation, and nature with urbanity. As the city that never sleeps, it continuously evolves to confront challenges such as urban density, climate change, and sustainability, all while maintaining its historical and cultural identity. At the forefront of this evolution is James Ramsey, an architect, inventor, and founder of RAAD Studio. His visionary Lowline project—an underground park currently in development—reimagines the potential of subterranean spaces and addresses urban sustainability in unprecedented ways. Vision and Innovative Approach Unlike other urban projects that merely adapt existing frameworks, Ramsey's approach is distinctly innovative. He perceives the Lowline not just as a park but as an urban archaeology initiative that invites exploration and discovery. This perspective sets Ramsey apart from his contemporaries, as he integrates elements of history and technology to create a space that fosters community engagement and environmental awareness. His work resonates with global urban innovation trends yet remains unique in its execution and philosophy. The Lowline stands as a reflection of his commitment to transforming neglected spaces into vibrant public realms, challenging the status quo of urban design and inspiring future generations of architects to think beyond conventional boundaries. Born in New York City to Korean and American parents, James Ramsey, a Yale University alumnus and avid origami enthusiast, recalls his first profound architectural experience during his youth while visiting relatives in France. "A little 12-year-old me walked into a cathedral, and I was just blown away by the power of that space," Ramsey shared. Immersing himself in the intricacies of Gothic architecture, he became fascinated by how structures built with heavy stone, adorned with extravagant buttresses and columns, could evoke a sense of lightness. "It just gave me such a profound shift in perspective—that is something I brought with me for years," he added. Journey Through NASA Ramsey began his NASA career at the remarkable age of 19, taking on a pivotal role in the Pluto Fast Flyby project and contributing to the development of the Cassini mission to study Saturn, which successfully launched in 1997. Reflecting on the trust placed in him, he remarked, "It is kind of startling to me that they would give so much responsibility to someone so inexperienced and young." Despite his youth, Ramsey's brilliance was evident as he developed an infrared spectrometer for the Pluto Fast Flyby mission. "A spectrometer which allows you to see through a piece of optics at the surface of Pluto," he explained. This technology aimed to analyze the planet's surface by identifying its substances and elements. While the Pluto Fast Flyby mission was ultimately shelved, its concept was later revived with newer technology as part of the successful New Horizons spacecraft, which launched in 2006 and reached Pluto in 2015. Reflecting on his early career at NASA, Ramsey remarked, "Combining engineering with craft to create a design effect is something that has pervaded my understanding of architecture," a philosophy that underscores his innovative approach to design. The Lowline Project As the visionary behind the Lowline, James Ramsey has developed innovative "remote skylight" technology that demonstrates how forgotten subterranean spaces can be transformed into vibrant, sustainable environments. This groundbreaking system channels natural sunlight underground to address the loss of above-ground green spaces. It captures sunlight via a rooftop collector, amplifies it with parabolic concentrators, and directs it through fiber optic cables into the underground park. The 2015 Lowline Lab prototype validated the technology's success, enabling over 100 plant species, including edible varieties, to thrive in an underground ecosystem. At its core, the project aims to revitalize the historic Williamsburg Bridge Trolley Terminal—a 60,000-square-foot space abandoned since 1948. Ramsey's vision extends beyond New York City. During the 2017 Seoul Biennale of Architecture and Urbanism, he presented his solo art installation, Invasive Regeneration , which brought light into a dark, abandoned space, demonstrating the emotional resonance of his technology. Reflecting on the experience, Ramsey shared, "It was one of my favorite things that we've ever built." This installation not only underscored the profound relationship between light and space but also stood as a powerful metaphor: bringing light into darkness is not just a physical transformation but a declaration of optimism, a reminder that even in the bleakest moments, renewal and hope can emerge. Highlighting his extensive work in Korea, he noted, "I ended up having a lot of professional connections to Korea and a lot of reasons to travel there for work. And it ended up for me being something that allowed me to reclaim my heritage and connect with it." During these visits, he also cherished the time spent with his late grandmother, describing his connection with her as a profoundly meaningful experience that deepened his ties to his heritage. Invasive Regeneration poetically illustrated Ramsey's unwavering belief in illuminating the darkest corners of urban landscapes, literally and metaphorically, echoing the profound impact he experienced as a child when first stepping into a Gothic cathedral in France, where the interplay of light and space left an indelible mark on his architectural sensibilities. Facing Challenges Despite significant fundraising challenges—"We are in a place where there is a pretty significant fundraising hurdle"—Ramsey remains steadfast in his vision. His persistence in directing light into forgotten spaces reflects a deep-seated grit and belief in the power of innovation to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Situated in a diverse, immigrant-rich neighborhood on Manhattan's Lower East Side, the Lowline underscores the complexities of urban revitalization, blending innovation with cultural preservation. The Lowline's potential extends beyond mere aesthetics, promising to reshape community interactions and improve mental health by providing much-needed green space in dense urban environments while also addressing issues of environmental justice in underserved neighborhoods. As cities worldwide grapple with increasing population density and diminishing green spaces, projects like the Lowline represent a crucial step towards sustainable urban design, aligning with broader global efforts to create livable cities for the future. The Importance of Craftsmanship While discussing ancient structural innovations in countries like China, Japan, and India, James Ramsey highlighted the enduring importance of craftsmanship in architecture. "There is such a heavy emphasis on craftsmanship—touching material, shaping it, and understanding how it fits together has been a focus of the work that we do in my studio," Ramsey explained. This reflection is particularly relevant today, as many contemporary architectural practices prioritize cost efficiency over the true value of craftsmanship, often favoring mass production over thoughtful design. Ramsey emphasized that understanding localized materials—and how they are thoughtfully assembled—is critical to creating sustainable, durable structures. This approach not only honors the cultural and environmental context but also fosters innovation rooted in tradition. Japan, in particular, holds personal and professional significance for Ramsey; his parents lived there briefly during his infancy, and he has since returned to study its architecture and landscape design. These visits allowed him to immerse himself in traditional wood joinery and engineering techniques, which maximize the potential of native materials by prioritizing how they interlock and function together. Such methods produce structures resilient to extreme climates while embodying timeless craftsmanship. Conclusion: Meaning and Reconnection By reflecting on these traditional practices, Ramsey underscores the importance of reintroducing careful material understanding and assembly into modern architectural practices, ensuring that innovation does not come at the expense of durability or cultural integrity. Reminiscent of Louis Kahn's famous words, "We are born of light. The seasons are felt through light. We only know the world as it is evoked by light," Ramsey's work embodies a philosophy where light not only sustains life but also transforms neglected spaces into symbols of connection and renewal. Amidst the challenges of urban change, Ramsey's design principles and vision offer a path to making a dynamic city like New York more defined, resilient, and attuned to the deeper needs for meaning and reconnection in a rapidly evolving world. 1/3 Images provided by: James Ramsey Previous Next

< Back Charlie Le Grice A Multifaceted Storyteller: Charlie Le Grice’s Journey of Self-Discovery In Māori legend, the story of pounamu’s origin is steeped in a tale of love and pursuit. It centers on Poutini, a taniwha (water spirit), who encountered the beautiful Waitaiki bathing in the Bay of Plenty. Captivated by her beauty, Poutini abducted her and fled south. Waitaiki’s husband, Chief Tamaahua, soon discovered her disappearance and embarked on a determined chase. As they journeyed, Poutini lit fires to keep Waitaiki warm, leaving behind precious stones in the ashes. When they reached the West Coast of the South Island and Poutini realized he couldn’t escape Tamaahua, he made a final choice. To keep Waitaiki forever, he transformed her into pounamu and placed her in the Arahura River. Upon catching up and finding his wife turned to stone, Tamaahua’s sorrowful cry is said to still echo through the mountains to this day. (Ref: www.ngaitahupounamu.com ) The Significance of Self-Discovery The journey of self-discovery is as profound as it is personal, a weight that only the individual can measure. For some, this path is illuminated by the rich mosaic of family history and cultural traditions passed down through generations—a privilege that anchors their identity. For others, that connection may have been severed long before their birth, leaving them to navigate a void where roots should grow. Yet, the decision to seek out and understand one’s heritage, even in the face of uncertainty and obscurity, is a courageous act. Charlie Le Grice, a member of the Ngāti Whātua, Ōrākei tribe, a Māori tribe from New Zealand, exemplifies this courage by exploring her ancestral traditions and stories, confronting the fractures of history to understand a deeper sense of her family. Ngāti Whātua: A Tribe’s Historical and Cultural Impact Ngāti Whātua’s influence on Auckland’s history and culture is profound. In the mid-18th century, under Tūperiri’s leadership, they established dominance over the region through warfare and strategic alliances, embodying ahi kā, or “keeping the home fires burning.” However, as Le Grice highlights, “in truth, we should be honoring his mother Toukararai; the mana of Toukararai was the ancient mana of the land” (a quote from the 1912 land dispute amongst our hapū). Historical agreements recognized Tūperiri and his sister Tahatahi as equals in ownership, but British systems allowed male leaders, such as Apihai Te Kawau, to sideline female leadership. While Apihai sought British support to counter trading rivals, he never welcomed the establishment of Auckland as a colonial capital. The Māori version of the Treaty of Waitangi agreed to shared land use and British self-governance, whereas the English version claimed sovereignty—leaving Aotearoa as unceded territory. Early Life and Family Background Charlie Le Grice, a multidisciplinary professional, traces her origins to Auckland, New Zealand, where she was raised by her single mother. Her parents’ unique story began in New York City in 1983, when they met by chance on a subway. “My mother was visiting and teaching at a performing arts camp upstate,” Le Grice recalled. Her father, a professional in the technology sector who worked with major companies like Microsoft, stayed in the United States while her mother returned to New Zealand. Reflecting on the complexities of her early life, Le Grice shared, “It’s a bit of a blur as to whether she knew she was pregnant or realized later and decided to go home.” Her parents reunited briefly during her childhood, living together in New York for a time. In the late 1980s, her father spent a period in New Zealand before ultimately passing away in 2021. Reconnecting with Māori Traditions At the early age of 10, Charlie Le Grice frequently moved across Auckland, its outskirts, and even other countries with her mother, attending multiple schools due to their transient lifestyle. Reflecting on this period, Le Grice noted, “We did move around Auckland (and other countries) a lot from birth till around 10 or 11 when we settled down a bit in Sydney.” She described her connection to Māori traditions as complex. “There is the tradition of our ancestors, but then there are the traditions of the ancestors I know, like my grandparents. There is a newer dimension,” she said. One of her earliest cultural memories comes from her first school in the 1990s, during the reparations period for her tribe in New Zealand. The school, located on a hillside in Ōrākei, allowed her to learn Māori songs, dances, and counting alongside her biological cousin. “There was more interaction with the community,” Le Grice said, referring to her time on tribal land. “The traditions were lost for our parents, and it is just now that the traditions are back.” Her mother, who was adopted and later reconnected with her tribe, was raised by her adoptive mother—the love of her life—who always supported her in seeking out her Māori family and encouraged her to build a connection with Makawe. Le Grice recalls meeting her biological grandmother, Makawe, whose name means “the woman with the beautiful hair” in Māori. “The only story I have of her is in the context of all the men who were around her,” Le Grice said. Makawe, a descendant of chiefs, experienced significant losses, including the separation from her children. “As I get older, I see and understand the challenges, but as a child, I felt like my mother was disregarded. I believed it but not in my heart,” she added. Ngāti Whātua’s Pre-Colonial and Colonial History Le Grice’s tribe, Ngāti Whātua, was involved in trade before British colonization in 1840 due to their location near a main port. “During the 16th and 17th centuries, we were already trading fish, bone weapons, flax, and baskets,” she explained. “We were already trading with Europeans like the Dutch and the French. The French started setting up homes in our city, and we asked the British to help.” She noted that early contact with Europeans led to intermarriages and changes within the tribe, which some view as making them less traditional. However, the tribe also led resistance movements due to their interactions with Europeans. Māori’s Spriritual Beliefs and Cultural Practice “We believe that we are one with the sky and the water,” Le Grice said of her people’s spiritual beliefs. “As much as we do believe in sky and water, our core beliefs are embedded in Tangata Whenua and Tangata Moana —our connection to and responsibility for the land and sea of Aotearoa.” Introducing oneself in Māori tradition includes statements such as, “I am of this mountain, I am of this water, I came in this ship (waka ), I came from this tribe (hapū ).” She added that this connection to the environment and community is something she is actively working to reclaim. Acting career: Passion and Challenges Looking back on her acting career, Le Grice reflects on a lifelong passion shaped by early constraints. “Acting was something I had always wanted to do,” she shared, “but my mother simply couldn’t afford it.” As an only child, she turned solitude into opportunity, reciting Shakespeare and performing solo. “I had to play all the characters because I had no siblings,” she humorously recalled. Her dedication led her to a performing arts school in Australia, where she pursued her dream, becoming a professional actor at 24. However, the challenges she faced within the industry ultimately led her to retire in 2021. Le Grice spoke candidly about the limitations imposed by casting stereotypes. “The Black woman stereotype, or the mixed woman stereotype—those were the roles I would get,” she explained. “I don’t come off as a Black woman, and my voice doesn’t sound like one. Casting directors don’t want to have to think about you. They want to see exactly what they’re familiar with. And they put you in a box—an ‘ethnically ambiguous’ box.” While she was often cast as a strong, mysterious figure—what she described as a James Bond archetype—she longed for roles that would allow her to explore other dimensions of her talent. “For so many roles, they just wanted me to be Black,” she said. “Why can’t I do romantic comedies or Shakespeare?” While she achieved significant milestones as an actor, the constraints of typecasting made it difficult to fully pursue the diverse range of stories she wished to tell, leading her to leave the field. “I am a strong woman in life but I was not a strong woman as an artist. I always succumb to the artist they want you to be,” Le Grice added. Memorable Acting Experience: Girls of Summer When asked about the most memorable experience of her acting career, Le Grice recalled her role in the play Girls of Summer , performed at Cheyney University. The play, a fictionalized account inspired by the true story of the first all-female Black baseball team in Chicago, was set during a time of racial tension and mysterious disappearances of women. Le Grice did not audition for the role—instead, the director offered it to her after the original actress dropped out of the production. She had previously auditioned for him for another role, Cleopatra. The experience was a deeply emotional turning point in her career. “I became emotional after the play,” she shared, reflecting on how the performance resonated with her own journey and history. The production, which blended comedy and drama, explored themes of identity, race, and gender—issues Le Grice had never before engaged with in such a personal way. “The practice required by acting allowed me to arrive at certain feelings and learn how to handle those feelings with somebody else,” she explained. “When you are working with a partner, you have to trust them with your emotions and let them carry the story. You are giving up control, and it also allows you to understand yourself better.” For Le Grice, it is important to be able to pull out of a feeling induced by the character while acting. Her conservatory training had taught her this balance. She recalled her teacher’s advice: “You should go into this with the curiosity of a child, but not a disturbed child.” Venturing into Real Estate In addition to her acting career, Le Grice ventured into the real estate market, particularly in Brooklyn, NY, a place that holds personal significance for her. Her father and paternal grandmother had lived in Brooklyn before her grandmother moved from Alabama, giving Le Grice a deep, emotional connection to the area. “I became a realtor because I wanted to be able to fund my own films, and I wanted to make this social justice documentary. I write films all the time. I really wanted to make these films on my own terms,” she explained. Real estate provided financial stability during the off-seasons of acting, allowing her to maintain a steady income while pursuing her creative passions. Le Grice made a conscious effort to separate her acting career from her real estate work, aiming to establish herself as a professional in both fields on her own terms. However, there were moments when clients would recognize her from commercials, and these encounters sometimes worked in her favor, while at other times, they led to doubts about her professionalism. “Sometimes it was a reason for clients to think I wasn’t serious about real estate or capable in this field,” she shared. “Other times, it became a reason for them to want to work with me.” Despite the mixed reactions, Le Grice focused on building her reputation as a trusted professional, finding great fulfillment in nurturing relationships within the community. Her acting training also proved to be an asset in her real estate work, allowing her to transition seamlessly into the professional character required for the role of a realtor. The skills she developed as an actor—such as adaptability, communication, and the ability to read and respond to people’s emotions—helped her connect with clients and navigate complex situations. At 19, she had worked in commercial art sales for interior design, where she refined her understanding of people’s psychology and motivations. This early experience, combined with her acting background, allowed her to excel in real estate. Though real estate was never her primary ambition, it became a reliable safety net, enabling her to pursue her creative goals with greater freedom. Current Work at Human Rights First At Human Rights First, Le Grice is responsible for development, which includes grant writing comparable to branding in a company, a position that requires storytelling, staying current with the philanthropic climate, and understanding how people see human rights. Embracing Māori Identity and Advocacy Reconnecting with her Māori culture—something she once distanced herself from due to feelings of stigma and shame—has re-established a foundation of strength and commitment for her. This renewed connection has allowed her to define her boundaries, clearly identifying what she stands for and what she will no longer tolerate. In her experience, people in New York have been increasingly receptive to her Māori heritage, much like their growing recognition of other Indigenous cultures in the Pacific. She sees this openness as a gateway for fostering awareness and understanding of the first peoples of New York, which has become central to her work. “I feel like all of my leverage, identifying as a Māori woman and a woman of color, is who I am, and I am going to tell you,” she declared. Initially, this sense of leverage felt uncomfortable, as though she were exploiting her identity, but she came to recognize it as a source of strength. The Māori Nation Welfare League, known in Māori as Te Rōpū Wāhine Māori Toko i te Ora, is a national charitable organization established in 1951 in New Zealand, dedicated to improving the well-being of Māori women and their families. However, challenges remain, as Māori women are disproportionately represented in prisons and often lack adequate access to healthcare, contrary to common perceptions about healthcare accessibility in New Zealand. During a visit to New York, the League crossed paths with Le Grice. She joined them for tea, where they spoke the Māori language and shared songs, helping Le Grice reconnect with cultural elements from her early life in New Zealand. This encounter held deeper meaning for Le Grice. As one of the women pointed out, advocating for their people is not a choice but a necessity, as they lack a platform. For Le Grice, the experience became a way for her ancestors to speak to her through the Māori women, affirming her role as an advocate. “Our ancestors are loud,” she asserted, framing the moment as both a reminder and a call to action rooted in cultural and ancestral connection. The Significance of Pounamu She wears a jade necklace called pounamu, traditionally given to children at birth. Her necklace, however, was a gift from her cousin. After her mother left the tribal community with a young Le Grice and lost contact for years, her cousin visited the U.S. in 2017, reconnected with her, and brought the pounamu from their homeland. This profound reunion is symbolized by the pounamu she now wears. “I feel very connected with my stone,” she reflects. Earlier this year, a women’s tribe visited and shared that pounamu is often gifted to someone who offers help or support, making it a meaningful reminder of her own work and advocacies. Conclusion: Bridging Tradition and Modernity Charlie Le Grice’s journey as a multifaceted storyteller is deeply connected to the symbolism of the pounamu in Māori culture, with her love and pursuit reflecting the courage to reconnect with her roots. Her path of self-discovery embodies the enduring strength and resilience of ancestral traditions, embracing transformation while remaining firmly anchored to the land. Like the pounamu, shaped by time yet unyielding, Le Grice’s commitment to honoring her Māori heritage mirrors the love and pursuit of the pounamu’s legacy—an unyielding pursuit of connection to what is sacred and lasting. Her advocacy extends beyond her own heritage, empowering marginalized voices within various Indigenous communities. Through her work, she demonstrates how the principles of love and pursuit, deeply ingrained in the legend of the pounamu, continue to guide her in bringing ancestral wisdom into modern life, ensuring its relevance and impact for future generations. 1/3 Images provided by: Charlie Le Grice Previous Next

< Back Shaira Ventura Embracing Diversity: Shaira Ventura and the Transformation of the Modeling Industry The modeling industry has undergone a significant transformation in recent years, embracing a global perspective that challenges traditional beauty norms and champions diverse cultural identities. This cultural shift has elevated models from various indigenous communities, allowing them to bring their unique heritage to mainstream fashion through campaigns, editorials, and runways. Among these trendsetters is Shaira Ventura, a 23-year-old from the Tausug community in Sulu province, Philippines. Ventura made waves by gracing the cover of Vogue Philippines in April 2024, captivating audiences with her natural elegance and modest charm. She represents a powerful shift away from conventional standards, highlighting the rich diversity and cultural heritage that indigenous models bring to the global fashion scene. The Tausug Heritage The Tausug, known as the “People of the Current,” possess a rich history and vibrant fashion culture that reflects their identity and traditions. For Tausug women, traditional attire includes the Batawi for formal occasions, often made of silk or velvet with intricate designs and gold button adornments. For daily wear, they wear the Sambra or Supa Supa, paired with Sawwal pants and an embroidered wrap called Kindang. Men wear the Badjuh Lapih as an upper garment and Kuput as pants. This sartorial legacy is woven into their cultural identity, influenced by Islam since the 13th century. The Tausug’s cultural roots run deep, with a history shaped by the establishment of the Sultanate of Sulu in 1475. While Islam is central to Tausug identity, they also retain elements of pre-Islamic practices that enrich their unique cultural heritage . A Journey of Balance and Faith Ventura, a newly registered nurse, grew up as the eldest child in her family, with three younger brothers. She describes her role as a caregiver and mentor to her siblings. “Being the eldest, I have to be the role model for my brothers,” Ventura explains. “When my parents are not around, I step in as a secondary parent, cooking for them, ironing their clothes, and attending school events,” she adds. Her journey into modeling began at age 12 through pageants, which led to opportunities with local designers. With her family’s support, especially her mother’s encouragement, Ventura balanced her cultural values with her aspirations, determined to pursue modeling while keeping nursing as a potential career path. Her modeling career is guided by her faith and cultural practices around modesty. In her hometown, she wears a hijab and adheres to traditional norms that emphasize covering her face and body except among close family members. “There are criticisms, but I keep in mind that my personal beliefs are more important than any criticism over appearances,” Ventura states. When Vogue Philippines approached her, Ventura expressed her requirements for modest attire, declining any styling that felt uncomfortable. “If it doesn’t feel right, then I don’t pursue it,” Ventura says. Her selection for the Vogue cover honors her authenticity and commitment to her values. Challenging Stereotypes and Celebrating Culture Ventura’s rise has also given her a platform to challenge stereotypes about her Tausug community, often misunderstood as combative due to media portrayals of Mindanao. “Someone once identified me as Tausug, saying they could tell by my expression, insinuating that I looked like I was ready for conflict,” Ventura recalls. She emphasizes that negative perceptions are overblown and do not represent the reality of her homeland. “It’s true that we can be fierce when defending our rights, but I grew up there and never encountered trouble.” “Tausug women can be fighters. We protect our rights and adapt while staying true to our values. Modesty and respect are the foundations of how we conduct ourselves,” Ventura asserts. Ventura also shares insights into Tausug customs around marriage and the evolving role of women. Traditionally, courtship led to prompt marriage, but today, women are empowered to choose their own spouses, aligning with Islamic requirements for mutual consent. Her parents serve as her role models, embodying both tradition and progressiveness. Ventura’s father, a mechanical engineer, and her mother, a school nurse and former aspiring model, support her unconditionally. She admires models like Kendall Jenner and Bella Hadid, appreciating their confidence, even though she does not emulate their style directly. Inspiring a New Generation As Ventura continues to pursue modeling, she recognizes her role as a representative of her Tausug community. She aims to inspire women by showing that a conservative background is not a limitation but a testament to respect for tradition. To young models with cultural concerns, Ventura offers encouragement to remain true to their practices and values. Shaira Ventura has become more than just a model—she’s an icon of honor, resilience, and cultural celebration. By bridging the worlds of tradition and contemporary style, she inspires her community to honor their roots unapologetically and reminds us all of the strength found in embracing who we are. Shaira Ventura isn’t just walking the runway; she’s leading a new generation to wear their heritage with pride. 1/5 Images provided by: Shaira Ventura Previous Next

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. Previous Next

Previous Next < Back 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 Previous Next

Previous Next < Back Sybil Wa A Creative Light of Care, Dignity, and Commitment Image credit: Matthew Lella (left image), Chris Lee (right image) While architecture is often associated with physical structures, its true essence lies in serving the people who inhabit them. The spaces we occupy shape how we live, interact, and feel a sense of belonging. Whether private or public, architecture reflects a society’s priorities: what it protects, whom it welcomes, and how it defines access. For architects—especially those working in the public realm—their responsibility is both technical and deeply social: to create spaces that are inclusive, responsive, and rooted in human dignity. Few embody this perspective more clearly than Sybil Wa, whose work across civic, cultural, and residential projects is grounded in the belief that good design starts with understanding and dialogue. ROOTS AND RESONANCE Architect Sybil Wa, a Canadian of Chinese descent, conveys this commitment in her role as principal at Diamond Schmitt , an award winning firm based in New York, Toronto, Vancouver, and Calgary. Born in Canada to parents who emigrated from Hong Kong in the 1970s, Wa traces her understanding of identity and community to her upbringing. At home, Cantonese remains the dominant language—a dynamic that encouraged her to improve her fluency, allowing her to communicate more deeply with elders, connect with family, and navigate the everyday nuances of Chinese culture, from conversation to cuisine. Wa is especially recognized for being one of the design team behind the reimagined David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City. The project, which began in 2015, culminated in its official reopening in 2022 after eight years of development. As Wa described, it was a deeply collaborative process—“much like a symphony, where there are so many musical voices that together have one effect: a truly integrated result.” SYMPHONY OF COLLABORATION: RETHINKING THE "STAR ARCHITECT" Although architectural projects are often attributed to a single “star architect,” Wa resists this notion, placing greater emphasis on the collective. Drawing from traditional Chinese and broader Asian values—where success is seen as a shared achievement—her approach highlights the intricate coordination between design, technical systems, and human experience. Rather than positioning architecture as a solitary vision, she sees it as a collaborative response shaped by the needs of artists, stage crews, audiences, and the emotional resonance of the space itself. “There was a lot of dialogue with many inspirations,” she explained, “but the right response is the one that meets the community’s needs and experiences.” PERFORMING ARTS FOR ALL: REDEFINING ACCESS AT DAVID GEFFEN HALL This principle of responsiveness is evident not only at David Geffen Hall, but also in other major performance spaces Wa has helped bring to life. She was part of the core team behind the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts in Toronto, Canada’s first purpose-built opera house, where acoustics and transparency were balanced to make the arts more accessible. In St. Petersburg, she contributed to the design of Mariinsky II, a contemporary expansion to the historic Russian opera house that delicately negotiated context, heritage, and modern function. More recently, her work on the University of Virginia Center for the Arts to establish a civic hub that brings together community, students, and artists in a shared cultural space. Across these projects, the through line is clear: architecture as a civic gesture—where the building is both a container and a connector. When asked about her views on the role of performing arts spaces in relation to architectural equity, Wa reflected on attending a public concert in Central Park. “I was astonished to see how diverse the audience was during the free concert. It was as if the subways emptied into the park.” She realized that “the building is built to protect the arts, a roof over the head, but it also becomes a barrier in contrast to outdoor spaces.” This revelation made her aware that every time she drew a door or a wall, she was creating a barrier. At the same time as protecting and housing something, you’re also creating a barrier to it. DRAWING THE LINE: BARRIERS, ACCESS, AND THE ETHICS OF SPACE She consulted the census data of New York City and its boroughs to understand who could potentially attend the performance space. The goal became inclusivity, envisioning an audience of multiple generations and ethnicities. The city’s census, she noted, “inspired our image of the audience. This is New York City. It is a uniquely diverse metropolis and it is important for Lincoln Center to connect with broad talent and audiences,” she asserted. As a result, the renovation of David Geffen Hall became a pacesetter for what a performing arts center can be. The team prioritized accessibility, flexibility, and public engagement, transforming the space into a more inclusive and dynamic cultural hub. Key improvements included patron and artist amenities like ADA-compliant features, gender-neutral restrooms, and a nursing room, while the addition of ground-floor public spaces and a transparent glass facade fostered openness and connection with the city. The reimagined hall now supports a wide range of performances and everyday uses, with adaptable theatrical lighting, improved acoustics, and a welcoming design that invites all visitors to feel at home. “What we tried to do is enable a multitude of types of artistry, events and programs, and we have seen that the audience responds and grows,” Wa noted. THE ARCHITECTURE OF MUTUAL CARE Wa considers herself an “advocate” when asked what type of architect she is. She became an architect at a young age and has accumulated over decades of experience. She described her early career: “I had no business doing what I was doing, except for the fact that I cared about something.” Skills can certainly be learned from various sources, but Wa emphasizes the question: “Are you taking care of someone or something?” In our increasingly complex societies, where the needs of diverse communities continue to evolve, the role of architecture—and the responsibility of architects—grows ever more indispensable. While buildings may rise from concrete and steel, it is the architect’s thoughtful investment of time, study, and insight that transforms them into spaces of meaning. By carefully interpreting and responding to a community’s needs, architects do more than design structures; they shape experiences, safeguard dignity, and create environments that reflect and serve the people who inhabit them. For Wa, an architect “is a trusted partner, an advocate for what is going to happen on a project.” When asked if there is anyone, living or dead, that she would have liked to collaborate with, she briefly mentioned the late philosopher Hannah Arendt, an influential figure whose background was shaped by mentorship, committed to public life and moral thinking. HOUSING AS OPPORTUNITY: RETHINKING STABILITY AND COMMUNITY As the chair of the Toronto Community Housing Design Review Panel, Sybil Wa was asked how architects could address the social needs of affordable housing residents. She explained that “the goal of housing is geared towards supporting people who need assistance temporarily. But within the community, they are connecting to more opportunities, more training, and more support, that would allow them to have something more permanent as a solution.” Her approach, shaped by values found in many Asian cultures, emphasizes well-being as a collective endeavor. For Wa, stability comes from shared responsibility and mutual care—principles she brings to housing that fosters connection rather than isolation. This philosophy is also present in Toronto’s affordable housing model, which brings together public funding, city-owned land, and partnerships with both private and non-profit developers to create housing that is inclusive and financially sustainable. “I do think that security is very important. People should feel secure and that the place is safe to live in,” Wa noted—pointing to a more expansive definition of stability, where feeling rooted within a community is just as vital as owning property. Her work demonstrates how thoughtful design can strengthen social bonds while meeting practical needs. QUITE LEADERSHIP: THE POWER OF HUMILITY AND COLLECTIVE ACTION While affordable housing developments have long carried a certain stigma, Wa’s work invites a reconsideration of how we define and support these communities. When housing is designed as a framework for opportunity—where residents are supported in building stable, independent lives—it becomes clear that the conversation should not center on deficit, but on potential. In that light, perhaps what deserves closer attention is not the communities themselves, but the systems that shape their conditions and our perceptions of them. The values guiding Sybil Wa’s work in housing—stability, dignity, and mutual care—are the same principles that shape her cultural and civic projects. Whether reimagining a world-class concert hall or helping steer affordable housing policy, she brings a consistent focus on access, responsiveness, and the architecture of daily life. Her emphasis on working together runs through it all—not only in how she collaborates, but in how she credits the process itself. There’s a humility in that stance, an understanding that architecture is rarely the work of one voice, and that attentive engagement is as critical as leadership. It’s a perspective rooted in her cultural background, where belonging is tied to responsibility, and care is a shared task. Wa’s leadership doesn’t draw attention to itself, but its impact is unmistakable. In its clarity, patience, and steadiness, it carries a kind of incandescence—felt not through spectacle, but through the spaces it makes possible. Sybil Wa and Princess Anne.png Sybil Wa.png Sybil Wa.jpeg Sybil Wa and Princess Anne.png 1/4 Images provided by Sybil Wa Previous Next

Previous Next < Back 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 Previous Next

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