Light Without Statement: A Reflection on Molds’ Lab-yrinth

This is a projection-heavy project. The set and projection sit at the core of the overall visual narrative.

The performers’ movements interact with the set and music, creating an emotional and sensory experience that needs no words.

For lighting, I chose to minimize narrative and avoid competing with the extraordinary projection content and the immersive scenic tent that temporarily houses the audience.

My role, as I see it, is to observe without imposing a narrative, to provide visibility without distraction. Throughout the process, what I’ve kept returning to and expressing to my collaborators is this: how can I support your design?

My job is to fill the gaps, to complement what already exists in the space, the soundscape and the landscape. Like moonlight on a quiet night, the lighting can guide attention and without making a statement or casting judgment.

When the emotion of grief eventually washes over the space, I support it with light and effects, encouraging the emotional flow and helping fill both the room and the heart with sensation.

Nothing too complex. If I had to choose one keyword for my approach to lighting on this project, it would be: support.

To support the team.

To support the emotional truth.

To let it be.

On Luck, Learning, and Letting Go

Many people have told me they think I’m very lucky. Lucky to have worked with some of the best designers in the country, lucky to have mentors who are kind to me, generous with their time, and willing to teach. They say opportunities like this are rare, and I completely agree. I’ve been incredibly lucky.

But I’ve been reflecting on this a lot lately, and I think part of this “luck” also comes from authenticity, sincerity and bravery. My mentors know how committed I am to learning, that I don’t waste their time. When I started theatre program, I had absolutely zero knowledge about technical theatre or lighting. Even by graduation, my experience and skills were still super limited. But I knew that, and I faced it.

I’m not afraid to show my raw, unpolished self, like a kitten showing its belly. I try to let go of ego and be open to judgment. I ask stupid questions all the time, but that’s how I find real answers and clarity. One of the designers I assisted once told me, “You’re very honest. You don’t pretend to know things you don’t.”

Of course, I’ve felt hurt when people told me I suck. But I took those moments as lessons, not as fixed definitions. I saw them as feedback, not fate. I knew I had a lot to work on, and I worked on it. I’ve learned to separate my feelings from the fact that there are things I need to improve. Just because I sucked three years ago doesn’t mean I suck today, or will tomorrow. Growth is a flow.

Maybe that’s why my mentors were willing to invest time in me, because they saw someone who’s sincere, grounded, and willing to grow. Like watering a flower, you do it because you believe it will blossom.