Created in response to the growing misuse of ambulance services in Québec, this risograph-printed zine offers accessible guidelines to help readers better navigate the healthcare system and reduce non-urgent 911 calls. The cover depicts an ambulance driving on a road shaped like an ECG waveform with inverted T-waves to symbolize both cardiac strain and systemic breakdown. While originally printed and saddle-stitched, the version shown here is a digital rendition.




















This stamp series commemoratives Montreal’s disappearing architectural landmarks. Each stamp illustrates the facade of a neglected building from the late 19th to early 20th century that once carried deep cultural and social meaning. By preserving them in miniature, I hope to encourage reflection on collective memory and support efforts toward their preservation and adaptive reuse. Each stamp is priced at $1, echoing the symbolic 1-euro initiatives used to reclaim abandoned buildings.
Inspired by summers spent in rural Sweden, this pictogram series captures the rhythms of an off-grid lifestyle: drawing water from a well, foraging for chanterelles, hand-cutting grass, and listening to music on a wind-up record player. Though unconventional and inefficient by modern standards, these routines shaped some of my most cherished memories. The pictograms serve as visual keepsakes and as an invitation to reconnect with slower, more grounded ways of living.
This working prototype is based on the mantis shrimp’s powerful strike. A tensioned spring steel arm, secured with a pin-and-loop mechanism, stores potential energy. When released, the energy is transferred to a steel strip and 3D-printed claw. On impact, the claw loaded with a cap gun pellet produces a spark and a bang. Below is the technical drawing developed to prototype the system.
This project draws on lichens as symbols of resilience and environmental balance. My classmate and I created a traditional Korean bojagi using jogakbo patchwork, dyed with fermented willow leaves and bark. Rather than using lichens directly, we treated fermentation as a metaphor for symbiosis, producing five distinct dye batches through lacto and yeast processes. We incorporated Danish udklipshedebo embroidery by cutting and stitching the cloth, and the finished bojagi wraps a hand-bound book that documents our research and experiments.
This collaborative textile project culminated in a hand-stitched ruana, with each panel dyed using the national flowers of our teammates’ countries of origin: hibiscus for Korea and jasmine for Syria and the Philippines. Denmark was referenced through floral smocking integrated along the edge of the hood. The ruana aims to foster a more attentive relationship between the wearer and the natural environment, drawing inspiration from the bioindicative qualities of lichen and the canna indica’s capacity to filter.
















I created a zine that draws attention to parallels between the Gestapo in Nazi Germany and ICE in the United States. Using photographs of my classmates’ eyes, the work evokes secrecy, surveillance, and erasure. To counterbalance the weight of the subject, the zine adopts the tone of a satirical “guide” for identifying aliens, exposing the absurd logic that underpins exclusion while pointing toward collective resilience. Made from a single sheet of paper, the zine folds into a miniature format that can be discreetly shared within a community. When fully unfolded, it reveals a bright orange poster reading “We are all aliens. Fight ICE with fire.” A date and meet-up coordinates are vertically split across the poster’s edges, becoming legible only when the sides are brought together.







