publications

Drawing is still writing

Meteorites

They made an aunty of me– 
busy, looking, picking, hiding
retrievable
treasures for later

“Life is at times bitter but often pleasant”

Light Passes

“The more I work with light in performance and dance, the more I associate light with something both ephemeral and contextual. Light is a synonym for perception, grounded in its own histories and relationalities. I feel light as a limitless vocabulary of possibilities that reaches well beyond the task of making things visible or creating an effect. It digs deep into psychosomatic body memories of place and experience, warmth and sensation

...

Through the leaves, through the window to the page. A shimmer of possibilities in seemingly impossible states. 144 years after the invention of the light bulb. A glitch in the social order after sundown. A remembrance of the circadian rhythm. Light as it passes through, as it flows”

“Ask the dust about stories held in the light. Ask the dust about whispers in the shadows. Ask the dust where stories go in that refracted light of a city transforming its identity  

[…]

for us, the light sparkles in bittersweet tones through archival documents and photographs of razed neighborhoods from the untold past. It sparkles in the voices of people who once called those places home”
 

“A sudden image of a ghostly figure moving slowly in the flames of my lens, in a room containing what looked like an ancient electrical transformer, all valves and thread-worn wires. Some fictional appearance escaping at the edge of the frame”

“There are two phrases I repeat in all the press texts of non-visual dance pieces and the opening remarks of the performance evening: “completely dark” and “pitch-black”. To achieve that darkness is work. Only when finding that kind of darkness became a desire, did I start to notice the red LED in the fire alarm, the space in between doors and the wall where the hinges lie, the bending of light coming from street lamps through the window and up and around the theater curtain and other tiny cracks in the institutional walls. Sometimes that process of finding and covering those sources of light makes me feel as if the construction of functionality attempts to disown darkness from the language of light: the fire alarms upstage left and downstage right are working, their red LEDs are on; the breaker panel on the wall in the theater room near the tech booth shows electricity is flowing, its green LEDs are on; and when it is not flowing, the lights change to red.

[...]

So does that mean darkness is proposed as a space of dysfunctionality?

Is it a proposition of the impossibility of working without light, or rather without the possibility of sight?

What kind of limiter of imagination is that?”

“Someone trying to read while the lights go on AND OFF
Eyes at work
Conversations on satellites
Things to touch in darkness
Eyes looking with lids shut
Someone always looking through the camera
Always old technology devices laying around
Five people in the forest at night
Four people on a sofa looking at a wall petting objects on their laps
Two fishes and several rats
Hands feeling eyeballs”

Addressed to its intended

...if only there was an island cat on this Cemetery island who would walk up to me and with its scruffy holy tongue lick a piece of me, that would be my skin, and there, skin to tongue, living with the living, creature to creature, speech to touch, inner surface to outer surface, we would truly speak.

no wonder

how mice
eat the glue
off paper, read
with their teeth