Though I create dances, I actually don’t consider myself to be a choreographer, or even a dancemaker. Making dances is never really my goal. I find my dances to be more of a byproduct – an artifact, a momentary crystallization – in a larger process of inquiry.
I am continually in awe of what it is to be human – a trillion tiny cells working in concert to create this miraculous form of strength and fragility. In constant flux between thinking and feeling, knowing and uncertainty, isolation and connection. Yet, as unique and individual as our lives may seem, they all share a much larger story, rooted in our common physical presence in this world and the inexorable relationships that creates.
This place of shared space is where my work begins. My dances often find their way into existence through the unfolding of a physical scenario, initiated by the question, “what happens if…” Then I follow whatever presents itself, in pursuit of discovering something new.
My goal is to instigate movement rather than dictate it – to arrive at a new place of understanding through the creative process rather than manifest a predetermined idea. It’s this new understanding, or the process of finding it, that becomes the dance. For this reason, I prefer to think of myself as a movement artist, working serendipitously with my collaborators to explore the space that lives between narrative and abstraction, between self and other.