As both a filmmaker and architect, I’m drawn to stories that explore the intersection of space, memory, and identity. 15 Lines grew from my reflections on how the places we inhabit shape our sense of self and belonging. Inspired by the gaps in many African American family histories, the film imagines what it might mean to uncover a deeper legacy—one that redefines the present. It’s a story about ambition, inheritance, and the quiet courage it takes to choose one’s own path.

"A Mess of Memories” emerged from deep reflection on my journey of healing —messy, tangled, yet transformative (and continuously evolving). I often ponder: will I recognize myself without the familiar shadows of trauma, fears, and mental health struggles?" I aspire for this film to inspire individuals to recognize their healing journey, acknowledge their deservingness of healing, and realize that it is never too late to embark on that path. In every film I feel called to do, my goal is for it to authentically portray everyday Black people living fully and with complexity. This work is intended to be richly imbued with Southern Black culture because, as a Southerner myself, I aim to expand the representation of our stories on screen because the south in fact does have something to say. This rich tapestry of family drama, interweaving comedy, emotional confrontations, and introspective surreal moments allows for a profound exploration of human relationships and personal growth, revealing the complexity of our shared experiences. - Ebony Blanding (writer/director)

On average, 20% of men in their 20s start experiencing hair loss. Thanks to modern technology, there are many options to address this change, but some may choose to embrace nature’s course. This is the journey of our lead character, Travis, in Baldy: a story about a Black man finding self-acceptance. As a Black man who is a Director, I am drawn to stories about us, yet too often we are portrayed as victims of trauma that never fully heal, survivors of tragedies we barely escape, or as superhumans with extraordinary powers. Baldy offers a different perspective, focusing on the everyday Black man grappling with his identity, which is deeply connected to his physical appearance—starting with his hairline. Our film is a comedy with touches of surrealism that reflect Travis’s inner anxieties. I aimed to highlight genuine male bonding, especially through Travis's interactions with his barber, who not only boosts Travis’s confidence with a haircut but also playfully teases his receding hairline. The moments between Travis and his father, as well as with his roommate, are crafted to feel intimate, showing a broken man being supported and healed by the trusted men in his life. Baldy was shot during the final stages of the work stoppage caused by the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strike. Being on set and bringing this story to life reminded both the crew and me why we are passionate about this craft and why we love making movies. Despite having only three days to shoot and limited rehearsal time with some cast members, every actor brought their characters to life with authenticity and depth, making them feel like real people you might meet in Brooklyn. I hope the audience is entertained and finds empathy in Travis’s journey of identity and confidence.

The film follows the tenacious journey of Martinican sculpture artist Laurent Valère who set out since 1997 on the trail of an 1830 slave shipwreck that occurred during a tropical storm on the shore of the city of Diamant, in Martinique. This ship illegally deported enslaved Africans after the 1815 Vienna abolition of the slave trade. Laurent Valère is the first to tell the story of African victims of this historical tragedy through visual art with his monumental sculpture "Le Mémorial CAP 110". Le Mémorial CAP 110 became one of Martinique’s most important public memorial landmarks since its inauguration in 1998, on the occasion of France's 150th anniversary of the 2nd abolition of slavery. Valère’s quest takes us to a vibrant polyphonic transatlantic meeting of influential cultural change-makers in the Francophone black diaspora to highlight the ways that the story of the 1830 slave shipwreck, that of maroons and that of slave resistance have been for decades, and continue to be, prominently brought to light in the public sphere thanks to an incredibly rich body of transatlantic exchanges and alliances that have developed over the years. The rich array of sounds, sights and transatlantic encounters opens a door to understanding how this fraught history plays out in their cultural and artistic responses to contemporary forms of systemic inequities and human rights abuses, as they aspire to imagine and build better, more just, more inclusive worlds for everyone. Copyright © 2024 by Michigan State University

As a child of the 1950s and ’60s, I don’t recall ever seeing a family comedy featuring people of color. I never questioned why there were no bright, beautiful, happy little brown boys and girls on the children’s and family shows we all loved. I just watched and laughed. The story, sounds, and images in this film, though reimagined, are drawn from my childhood — from a time when there were only three TV channels and families across America watched the same shows together in their living rooms, and laughed.

THE LAST MEAL is a cinematographic approach of duty of memory. Through this film, I wanted to lead towards an engaged reflection of the scars left by de past by Jean-Claude Duvalier’s dictatorship on an entire generation of Haitians between 1971 and 1986, as well as on their descendants and heirs of intergenerational trauma. I used cinema to bring to life the courage, resistance, honor and strength of the survivors of the high place of torture that was Fort Dimanche prison. Long held in taboo, silence and oblivion, this film finally gives a voice to survivors of horror. For almost 10 years, I spoke with survivors of the former Duvalier’s dungeon. Thus, the majority of incarceration scenes brought to the screen are inspired by their stories. So that we can finally celebrate the true heroes, this film aims to be an outlet for an entire nation, both for those who experienced the dictatorship up close and for generations to come. I wanted to make an intimate film whose story takes place in two different eras. The first takes place in Haïti in 1974, when the main character, Reynold Celestin, is imprisoned in Fort-Dimanche. The second in 2011 in Montreal, when Mr. Celestin entered palliative care. This coincides with the return of the former dictator to Haïti after 25 years of exile. Although these places and eras are different in space and time, they both represent spaces of confinement where Reynold is condemned to die. These are two confinements which echo each other. Two cramped, austere and distressing environments. When constructing the film, it was important that the cinematographic treatment of the two spaces was similar since dramatically, the hospital room is an extension of the Fort-Dimanche prison’s cell. I like to say that I placed the story in the middle of a culinary drama! The hot vapors coming from Tati Dado’s kitchen added to the visual of The Greater Antilles food contract wildly the “anorexia” atmosphere of the prison and hospital. My intention was to create the indecency of food in the face of starvation. The issue of the main character’s death, broken by dictatorship, is directly linked to his deprivation of food. I wanted the viewer to feel the temptation Reynolds feels in front of the meals that his daughter Vanessa serves him at his bedside. That we can be hungry for him! Understand the food distress in which he finds himself, to grasp the starvation which refers to he “hunger of the soul”: His appetite to finally live a true and meaningful relationship with Vanessa. I wanted to show the progression in the father-daughter’s rapprochement by staging the physical space of the hospital room. In fact, from the scene where Vanessa visits her father for the first time, until the last scene, she gradually gets a little closer. Whether literally or figuratively, the rapprochement of father and daughter reflects the fragility of the forgiveness process. At the time of a sad assessment of life, there is still hope for the father who wants to repair his disastrous relationship. I wanted death not to mark the end of the bond between the two, but paradoxically, she initiates in reconciliation. This film is a kind of tragedy heading towards the light.

I want to bring awareness to the Icons like Richard Pryor, Redd Foxx, Fred Berry, Johnny Guitar Watson and Reynaldo Rey that have never been given their flowers, and I have the rights to all the film projects looking forward to showcasing their stories on feature film productions.

Way Back Home's subject matter comes from a place that’s close to my own experience. My own grandmother passed away some time ago and her house was passed down to my father. For the past 19 years, we’ve been making trips down to South Carolina, where we would sort, clean, and donate 55 years of accumulated belongings. From the outside, the house looks like how I remember it, but it was the inside that broke my heart. The wallpaper hung off the walls, the wood began to rot, and the ceiling was now exposed to the point where the rafters could be seen. The house wasn’t the only noticeable change I felt while I was down there. The gentrification I witnessed living in the north had made its way down to Charleston. Our block was no longer the Black middle class safe haven it was when my family bought the house in the late 50s. I couldn’t help but ask myself, “would we have to sell?” This movie was born out of that frustration. Like many communities, owning land is a sacred thing. Specifically in the Black community, to have property that can be passed down is one of the few ways we have been able to create generational wealth. It is my hope that this film creates honest conversations on the impacts of gentrification.

When Does Freedom Begin Director’s Statement Since the early 1990’s the mid-sized city of Bridgeport CT which has been a place of over-incarceration, where so many have a family member, friend or neighbor who’s been locked up. And it’s not just the men. Women are the fastest growing population in the prison system today and eventually, most of those loved ones will come back to the city. That’s when the healing and the rebuilding really begins. I wanted to illustrate that there is no road map for coming home. For everyone it is different. Freedom can take a long time and there are many obstacles, the greatest of which labyrinth of probation and parole. Nonetheless, it’s possible to return home and remain free. ..and this is what drives the film’s protagonists. What inspired me to make this film was the effectiveness of many formerly incarcerated leaders. Because I have multi-year relationships within the formerly incarcerated community in Bridgeport, the city seemed like the ideal location to illustrate what community activism can look like. I felt that if their stories were given a spotlight, they could inspire others as they have each inspired me. Roland Whitley was the star of his high school football team but couldn’t read or write when he graduated. Roland learned to read in prison and is now making an impact through mentorship and has taken on the football team at his old high school and at others across the city as his projects. Tiheba Bain had been a young working mother with two small children when she went in, but shortly after her release she founded the organization Women Against Mass Incarceration, focused specifically on the unique problems of incarcerated women. …And Louis Reed, although he stumbled and got rearrested, has now found a path to the national stage seeking to reform probation and parole laws which are the biggest driver of reincarnation. "When Does Freedom Begin" is not based on exceptionalism. It’s about ordinary people, leading the fight for empathy, reform and freedom. It’s a crash course in activism as the protagonists illustrate how to make a movement, exploring the impact of prison on families and children, probation and parole as drivers to mass incarceration, the difficulty of reentry, and the importance of freedom, love and forgiveness. As a first-time filmmaker I’d had the opportunity to experience the power of film when I co-produced a super-short film that became one of the rallying cries for the fight to raise the age of criminal responsibility in NY State from 16-years old. I was volunteering at the Fortune Society’s prison education program as a special advisor after a career change out of the art world and into policy. Being Canadian, I didn’t understand the U.S. mania for locking people up and I was appalled by the long prison sentences. In this journey I first met Louis and Tiheba nearly a decade ago, then Roland, and was deeply impressed that although they were now free, each had such a deep caring for those still in prison and a willingness to support them. I’d never seen this steadfast forgiveness and unwavering love of family and community. "When Does Freedom Begin" is a mostly verite film; a weave of the three lead protagonist’s stories buttressed by mentees, friends and co-workers who help to illustrate these stories of change. We did conducted interviews about the protagonists’ pasts, those stories are meant to provide more dimension to who they are today as the audience sees them coming to terms with the harm the they have caused and the forgiveness that is necessary to move forward. At an earlier time I was an art curator and art writer, and over these years I became an expert in historical and contemporary photography, so in making the film I’ve been leaning into this sensibility by incorporating a sizeable body of photography taken in the 90’s in Bridgeport when crack was rampant, and more recent works by a young photographer who made photo essays about the protagonists when were in the early stages of filming and have been incorporated into the film. The result I feel adds a richer texture to the visual treatment of the protagonists. Filming with a group of individuals who are almost all exclusively formerly incarcerated required care and thoughtfulness to ensure that we did not retraumatize anyone, as the effects of living in a cage never really go away. The entire production crew, editors, community advisors and myself, have all been justice impacted or hold strong beliefs about the inhumanity of the carceral system. Maintaining our steadfast support of all the protagonists allowed for open conversations about what reentry really means. We were challenged though when Louis was rearrested a short time after filming began due to bad checks for child support arrears accrued while he was in prison. This was devastating for him since he lost his job and felt that he’d let so many people in Bridgeport down, but he rallied. Then shortly after Louis’s rearrest, the film’s experienced co-producer and my dear friend Elinyisia Mosha died while in production on another film in Africa, as I continued to fundraise, but I persevered. Tiheba, Roland and Louis believed in me as did my editor Laure Sullivan and the other crew and I knew I needed to continue, and that these stories had to be told. The goal of my film is to break down the negative stereotypes perpetuated around people who have been imprisoned. I hope that it will be a signpost for others to find and use their voices and lift up the more than 7 million people who are living in prisons or on supervision, who need to be free.