O N  M A K I N G

My childhood was full of making music, paintings, scrapbooks, and one-woman theatre productions. I would build the instruments myself, hang a bed-sheet for a backdrop, and sell tickets to the show to my family members and our cat—this doesn’t feel far off from my art practices today. My long-standing relationship with DIY problem solving is still very central to my creative processes, now evidenced in my work as a dancer, dance-maker, collage-maker, and writer. I consistently find these multiple modes of creating bleeding into one another and filtering themselves into the live performance experiences I aim to create.


My making is deeply directed by experiences of trauma, leading me to creatively consider concepts such as dissociation, false memory, catharsis, and fog.

I find clarity in making messes, and work to overlap and fray the edges between these ideas, senses, and kinesthetic sensibilities. The choreography prioritizes sensation over shape, often with a goal of disorientation or physicalized multi-tasking, quickly transposing from billowing sweeps of limbs and torso to oddly exacting gestural rhythms. These vacillating systems build asymmetrical, multi-layered collages that seem to always be teetering on the brink of dissolve, only held together by the thoughtful choice-making of the performers or a strip of blue painter’s tape.

I use these processes as a tactic of survival and trust them to bring challenge, grounding, and resolution to my life. For me, my artistic practices serve as an attempt to situate myself in relationship with a post-trauma moving body, a lineage of artistic mentors, the greater world, and my own self-perception. Our communal practices are vital to sharpen our problem-solving skills and fill out our sense of selves as our time in the studio directly relates to the every-day; a cyclical endeavor from collaging, choreographing, and beyond.