We will regularly be presenting a featured artist, writer or performer who is exploring questions of identity and personal narrative through their medium of expression.

The map is your representation. No rigid lines, no defined routes. You direct it on your own account.

Third culture. To me, the phrase conjures up images of mould growing in Petrie dishes. The third generation of such a mould, perhaps, carefully reared in a sterile laboratory environment. Someone once told me that the phrase third culture referred to children such as myself. Children of twentieth century migrants, children who belonged neither to the culture of their parents, nor the culture of their host land. People like myself who created a new, hybrid third culture, a marriage of the heritage of our parents with the culture of our adopted homeland. But what happens when you have not one adopted homeland but two or three?

We will regularly be presenting a featured artist, writer or performer who is exploring questions of identity and personal narrative through their medium of expression.

The map is your representation. No rigid lines, no defined routes. You direct it on your own account.

While studying abroad in Paris as an American college student, I got to thinking a lot about eye contact. Mainly because I never got any.

Some days, on the street or in the metro, I would­ stare down every passing person, waiting for someone to return the favor. Before you start thinking I’m that creepy subway guy, just hear me out.