Role: Artist Timeline: ~3 months, February 2025 - May 2025 Context: Mirrors of the Infinite exhibition, Black Creatives Collective at University of Miami

INRACT is a short film created for the Mirrors of the Infinite exhibition. As president of BCC, I felt a responsibility to not only contribute but to challenge myself artistically.

The piece was guided by the exhibition's pillars: Others, Spirit, and Self. My proposal stated: "My project will visibly focus on Others and Spirit, but aim to suggest that Self lies within the viewer." I wanted to create an experience where people could see themselves reflected in the cycle of losing and finding.

This was the first truly artistic piece I'd ever made with no rubric, no client brief, no rules. It was just me, my vision, and a lot of trial and error. I started with one vision and ended somewhere completely different. But I needed every messy step to arrive at the final piece.

The Mirrors of the Infinite exhibition was born from a desire to reconnect the Black community on campus. The exhibition's core symbol was the prism, representing how one light splits into a spectrum:

Light → Others (Ubuntu philosophy: we are who we are through others)

Prism → Self (the vessel, transparent and shaped by light)

Spectrum → Spirit (the energy and complexity we release into the world)

My challenge was to take these vast themes and ground them in a visual piece that felt honest to me.

The biggest challenge was me. I had a massive vision for a 3D animated short film with a prism-bodied character and full storyline. But I didn't have the technical skills, time, or resources to make it happen.

I'd never created something purely for self-expression before. Most of my creative work had been tied to assignments or client needs. The wide-open freedom forced me to confront myself as an artist: if nothing is holding me back, what do I actually want to say?

My grand vision was too ambitious for the deadline, and self-doubt and disorganization slowed me down. I had to pivot and reduce scope to something achievable while still true to the concept's heart.

The core tension was balancing ambition with feasibility. How could I create something evocative and layered within my limits of time and skill?

Visual Language: Liminal, grainy, high-contrast, dreamlike spaces that feel suspended in time.

Symbolism: Each scene tied to a stage of the cycle—LOST → FINDING → FOUND → LOSING—so visuals carried meaning without dialogue or characters.

Scalability: Environments had to be achievable in Blender without months of rendering time.

Tone: The guiding principle was vulnerability. The film needed to feel like an honest reflection of searching, not a polished showcase.

The final piece condensed into two core environments:

The Void: A liminal space filled with symbolic objects (house, book, mirror, hourglass) floating with an orb at the center. These represented fragments of self: family, memory, image, time. Entering the orb opened the next stage.

The Ocean Floor: A still, dark seabed where glowing orbs descended, triggering growth. Plants bloomed, life emerged, and fish swam by, marking the beginning of something new.

Together, these scenes created a meditation on the cycle of losing and finding. Even in reduction, the film carried the spirit of the original idea.

Trust myself earlier. If I had leaned into my instincts sooner, I would've saved time and stress. Self-doubt was the real blocker, not technical limitations.

Scaling down is still powerful. You don't need to make the "big thing" to say something meaningful. The two-environment version resonated because it was focused and honest.

I am an artist. This project proved I have things to express, not just skills to show. The difference between creating for clients and creating for myself became clear—both are valuable, but this taught me I can do both.

Plan scope more realistically. My first vision was too much for the time. Next time, I'd map the workload better from the start and build in buffer room for pivots.

Invest in rendering resources. Limited access slowed me down. With more power, I could have attempted additional scenes or iterated faster.

Embrace imperfection earlier. Instead of fearing the unfinished, I'd approach iteration with curiosity. The messy middle is where the real work happens.