This month’s member spotlight is a feature on Alia Quart Khan (she/her)! Alia has been a resident of Vermont since 2020 and is living in Randolph. She works in the arts, film, and community cultural development sectors.
Alia is the founder of On Goldfish Pond Creative, a cultural studio focused on community-centered storytelling. She welcomes connections with artists, educators, historians, and community partners interested in collaborating around storytelling, film, or cultural programming!
To learn more or get in touch, visit ongoldfishpondcreative.com or email ongoldfishpondcreative@gmail.com. Photo credit: Ben Deflorio.
Tell us a bit about your background before arriving in VT and what brought you to the state.
I was born and raised in Geneva, Switzerland. My name, Alia — which rhymes with dahlia — was inspired by the former Royal Jordanian airline Alia, a name my mother discovered while traveling.
I was raised by a Canadian mother from Quebec and a Pakistani father who grew up around the world as the son of a diplomat. My high school graduating class represented 87 nationalities.
Rural central Vermont has now been home for nearly five years after what began as a six‑week pandemic visit with family in Brookfield.
My professional background is in film, communications, and cultural organizations. I spent formative years in Montreal and Los Angeles working in film publicity and awards campaigns with festivals, studios, and creative teams behind both studio and independent films.
What began as a pause became a pivot. Vermont offered space — literal and emotional — to rethink how storytelling functions outside industry ecosystems. I became interested in a new question: what does cinema look like when it serves community first?
How did you get into your career?
Story has always been my entry point. From devouring books and watching soap operas at a wildly inappropriate age to inventing imaginary worlds for my younger sister and me to play in, storytelling was always part of my life.
That curiosity carried into my studies in cultural studies and political science before earning a master’s in film and television and a certificate in film and tv development.
In Los Angeles, I worked behind the scenes on film campaigns and festivals, learning how narratives are positioned in the public sphere. Over time I realized my real interest wasn’t just amplifying films but creating spaces where audiences and artists could engage in dialogue.
That realization eventually led me to found my Vermont-based consulting studio On Goldfish Pond Creative and develop Hollywood, VT, a film series that treats cinema as a civic gathering space.
Why are you a member of the Vermont Professionals of Color Network?
Because visibility matters — and so does community.
Being a young-ish professional of color in a rural, predominantly white older state can sometimes feel isolating — even slightly like being a fish out of water. The Network creates spaces where we are not anomalies, but peers.
It offers solidarity and strategy: a place to exchange resources, share experiences, and remind one another that our presence here is valuable and necessary.
Vermont’s future depends on who feels they belong here. Supporting one another professionally strengthens that sense of belonging.
What aspects of life in VT do you find most fulfilling?
I value the intimacy of Vermont — the way conversations ripple outward. In a small town, ideas don’t disappear into noise. If you build something thoughtfully, people notice. They show up.
Professionally, I appreciate the chance to create impact at a human scale. In Randolph, I can curate a film event and watch neighbors talk to each other differently afterward. That kind of civic engagement is harder to feel in a large metropolitan market.
Living close to landscape and seasonality is also grounding. It reminds me that creative work doesn’t have to move at Hollywood speed to matter.
What advice would you have appreciated receiving about being a professional of color in VT?
I wish someone had said: your experience here may be nuanced, but your perspective has real value in this ecosystem.
You may be hyper-visible in some rooms and invisible in others. You may sometimes feel like you’re translating between worlds. But you will also find people who are curious, supportive, and eager to collaborate.
My advice is to build your own table — or question whether tables are even necessary.
Whatever you create, don’t build it alone. Seek out networks like VT PoC early, protect your energy, and remember that your perspective is part of shaping Vermont’s future.
What professional challenges have you faced since living in VT?
One challenge has been navigating visibility. In rural spaces, being a woman of color in leadership roles can mean being both highly visible and occasionally underestimated. Assumptions can surface about background, “fit,” or what kind of work belongs here.
Another challenge is scale. Vermont’s arts ecosystem is intimate and resource-limited. Funding pools are smaller, networks overlap, and innovation can sometimes be met with cautious skepticism.
Coming from a larger media market, recalibrating expectations while maintaining high standards has required adjustment.
There is also the quieter challenge of representation — the feeling that when you’re one of few in the room, you have to perform competence flawlessly.
What strategies have helped you navigate those challenges?
Community has been essential.
Joining boards, volunteering locally, and building reciprocal relationships helped shift perception from newcomer to collaborator.
The Vermont Professionals of Color Network has also provided grounding. Having spaces where context doesn’t need explaining is powerful.
I’ve also learned to translate my past experience into Vermont language — focusing less on industry scale and more on local impact. Personally, I prioritize sustainability: pacing projects and remembering that trust is built over time.
Tell us about the work you’re currently doing.
I’m the founder of On Goldfish Pond Creative, a Vermont-based cultural studio focused on community-centered storytelling.
Our flagship initiative, Hollywood, VT, pairs Vermont-connected films with public dialogue featuring artists, historians, and civic partners.
Since launching last fall at the Randolph Playhouse Movie Theatre, the series has hosted nearly full events including: a flannel forward screening of Baby Boom benefiting the Orange County Parent & Child Center, a free holiday screening of White Christmas supporting The Arts Bus, Hitchcock’s The Trouble with Harry, Sweethearts Dance featuring a Zoom appearance from Academy Award–winning screenwriter Ernest Thompson, and in March a 30th anniversary screening of The Spitfire Grill with special guest Bess O’Brien who was the Vermont casting director then and now is one of the states most acclaimed documentary filmmakers in partnership with COSA Orange County, a restorative justice organization.
What drives me is the belief that storytelling can function as civic infrastructure. Cinema can be entertainment, but it can also be a gathering place.
In a time of polarization, I’m interested in creating third spaces where neighbors can sit together, reflect, and reconnect through shared cultural touchstones.
What opportunities do you see for your industry in Vermont?
Vermont has an opportunity to position itself as a hub for place-based storytelling.
The state’s film history, creative talent, and strong local identity create fertile ground for cultural programming that is locally rooted yet outward-facing.
There is also room to strengthen collaboration between artists, economic development leaders, schools, and small businesses.
Arts and storytelling can contribute not only to culture but also to tourism, workforce retention, and civic engagement.
How can Vermont better support its BIPOC residents?
Consistency matters. Support shouldn’t appear only during moments of national reckoning.
Professionally, Vermont can strengthen mentorship pipelines, increase access to capital for BIPOC-led businesses, and ensure representation in decision-making roles.
Belonging is also built through everyday interactions. Curiosity should replace assumption, and difference should not be treated as novelty.
Small gestures — invitations, introductions, acknowledgment — matter. Structural change does too.
Anything you’d like to share with the VT BIPOC community?
I encourage fellow BIPOC creatives and professionals to claim space in Vermont’s cultural landscape — through entrepreneurship, artistic collaboration, civic leadership, or public dialogue.
Through Hollywood, VT, I’m always open to collaborating with Vermont-based BIPOC artists, historians, educators, and storytellers.
The more voices reflected in our cultural programming, the stronger our communities become.
Have you had any mentors or support networks in VT? How have they
impacted your journey?
Mentorship in Vermont has often been informal and relational. Colleagues across arts and civic organizations have offered guidance through conversation and collaboration.
The Vermont Professionals of Color Network has been especially meaningful as a space for peer mentorship.
Can you share an experience in VT that highlighted your cultural identity?
There have been moments when I’ve been asked, “What brought you here?” in ways that carried both curiosity, assumption and unintentional othering.
Over time, I’ve come to see those questions as opportunities to expand the narrative of who Vermont is for.
What role does community play in your life here, and how have you engaged with the local BIPOC community?
Community is central. In a small town, professional and personal life often intertwine.
I serve on local boards, collaborate with small businesses, and regularly walk into events recognizing many of the faces in the room. That intimacy carries both responsibility and possibility.
What advice would you give to young BIPOC professionals starting their careers in Vermont?
Build networks early. Don’t wait to be invited — introduce yourself.
Seek collaborators who respect your perspective, protect your energy, and remember: Vermont is still becoming. You are part of that evolution.
How do you balance your professional life with personal interests and
self-care?
Living in Vermont helps.
Time outdoors, long walks, seasonal rhythms, and the slower pace create space for reflection. I try to build projects aligned with my values rather than chasing scale for its own sake.
For me, sustainability is success — along with horseback riding, time outdoors, and the steady, sassy and silly companionship of my emotional support Chihuahua–Terrier, Rupert Jasper Fennec, Esq.
