Upcoming Events:

Whitewolf Sonic Princess
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Red Line Tap, Rogers Park

Recent Events:

meniscus
Performance in collaboration with Ginger Krebs
Epiphany Episcopal Church
July 10, 11, 8 pm

<---Ghost in the Machine,
Sept 1, 2007 East Bank Storage Facility

--->Hold the Broth, Please, Dress Rehearsal, Silverspace

Ten Nights Dream, June 1,2,3, 2007, Links Hall. Directed by Ayako Kato

"Dancing with Objects and Other Things", SAIC MFA Show, May 2007, Gallery 2. Directed by Michelle Tupko

Blushing Poppy with Taiko Drummers, December 18, 2006, Chicago Cultural Center Directed by Nicole LeGette

What to Forget<quicktime> 06.05

Text written 07.04

Sunlight in a moonbeam

the expanse of dry land like the sea, so that it stretches out before me, around me, behind me, through me, so that the sky is pressing down and I am rising up in it-this white sand sea. This golden red sand sea, the brightness of the sky with no interruption. The quiet so loud. the nature heard. spoken, so I am lost. No longer human. No longer human. Why? Rather be a tree, a bird, a leaf, or bug crawling through a crack in the ground. I do not wish to be human anymore. but lost in this sea of desert sand, where the word opens up in the empty expanse of nothing. Where there is nothing and no one, and I am not human. This is the beginning? or the end? or an illusion?

disruption

there are pieces of foil on the ground, littered, cans, bottles, scraps of things. Metal. Wood. Plastic. More and more, cords, electrical remnants, lights, wheels, mechanical objects broken. Rusted. Clothing, bits of food, remains which the birds and beetles consume. Flesh, somewhere. With nature, consuming, trying to erase. The wind has blown these bits, they are scattered, strewn, the wind is a low moan, a continous low whistle. It is loud, it is chiling. It is ceaseless, relentless, you want it to end, want it to stop and moving these bits of leftover humankind around, sometimes suddenly,a piece will be picked up and

dragged

some bits just flap, flap, flap with a rhythm of their own. the wind will whistle through some things, unable to lift them.

Swinging, an arm swinging - a mechanical arm, metal, that is caused by the wind, not strong enough to push it round and round, but just enough to give it motion. It makes a noise, slight. It moves in the scape of no-one. there is no human present. we are still looking in on a scene where no person has been. But the presence of them is now apparent. the sound of the arm swinging is so close, so hidden by the shrilling sound of wind, that relentless sound. The arm is banging slightly another object. Each time it swings, it is hitting this thing, what is it, my heart balanced on a rock - each time the arm swings it hits it slightly, sometimes it doesn't quite reach, but I see how this thing(my heart) balanced on this rock (my heart) will eventually be displaced by the steady push of the wind, the steady push that causes the arm to swing, to swing, to swing, in this beat, this motion.

WOOD FIRE June 2007

imagined community

One that shares my feelings of new beginnings, one that shares my passion for new ways of seeing, that challenges me to push beyond my current knowledge- one that provides safe and critical discourse, that creates ritual, that creates silence, creates space, creates knowledge, creates understanding. One that pushes me forward, but allows to go back also - one that has the arms to hold me and the courage to listen. A community that wants to show the world a new vision, this way of seeing, or searching and finding the creative spirit in all humanity. One that is hopeful of the future and excited by the present (gift).

derive 10.05

So many thoughts pushing through the bottom, wanting to take the literal-ness out, trying to make disconnects with time and idea.

Wanting to jumble elements of storytelling to leave some space open for realization, for softness, for instigation and investigation.

Exploring relationships between things. Dividing lines, things that come between us, bring us closer together. It is possible . It is probable.

If we keep pushing the slow unfolding of our selves is revealed. Effectiveness of language. Of movement. Of sincerity. Of commitment. Levels of awkwardness. Seemingly trivial things become the focal point. Message becomes meaning. Lies become truth. Inevitable happens.

We do not know the outcome of our story. Wanting to see the crystal ball. Belonging to no one but all of humanity. Sharing. Effortless. Being. Breathing. Swallowing. Assuming-no-erase assumptions, come together in a moment and relax in the tangled web of bodies on top of one another.

Do not be afraid of this touching. Do not be always. Love in a triangle, erased in a moment. Release. Forgotten memories. Float, sun shining on the face, ears below the surface. Exclamation. Start. Breathe.