I do time-based work within a large variety of contexts. The common thread for any or all of these myriad actions is this: the ability to hold a space.
Many of my recent performances have taken the form of site-specific public intervention, live-art tableaux and playful, participatory art actions. Whether highlighting our senses of taste/smell/touch or underscoring the aspect of “transaction” and transformation, these pieces work to complicate the relationship between the role of the “artist” and “spectator.” Direct contact with audience-members or audience-as-participating-performer deliberately makes these roles malleable and interchangeable.
The stage is such an infinitely mysterious, inspiring, mesmerizing, nebulous, and — dare I say it? — terrifying space. Working on stage, I’ve presented stories and songs about children, love, hurt, wonder, being, and being present. Sometimes not speaking at all, but letting actions and images (as in the case of incorporating video) speak for me. Even inviting silence. And in so doing, trying to demystify the performance process, from the stage. A lot of heart stuff. Liking to connect with people. Challenging the ways we can connect. Testing the limits of vulnerability. Even fucking up, which is something that does happen — and has provided some of the most interesting performance moments. I.e.: being able to hold a space, in communicating words, images, silence — NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS.