It is a late summer afternoon. The heat of the sun pierces my flesh but the rocks underneath me are cold and cavernous. They feed on my warmth. I feel the blood coursing from my toes and congregating in my head as I lay on the downward slope. I can only focus on the shrill buzz of the mosquitoes that are feasting on my body, a meal that has dropped itself before them, and displayed on a picnic blanket no less! I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here. My pulse is loud in my temples but I am at ease, in fact, I feel powerful. 
The performative human body is my material of choice. Unlike other tangible media, it molds to my beck and call. Its gestures and movements are guided by my instinct and desire to communicate with an audience. These movements prompt the essence of a narrative, often one that is ominous, threatening, and unspoken. This narrative exists nonlinearly. It unfolds and repackages time and physical encounter. I may begin with a pre-existing story and use it to subvert its own archetypes or to comment on something else entirely. Conversely, I may begin with abstract movement in a deliberate setting as a way to formulate a thought or to offer an ambiguous narrative for the viewer to unravel.
Pieces exist as ephemeral performances and then separately in archival forms ranging from video, to photography, to installation. Both are a means to present the work, but they are distinct entities. The ephemeral performance is a visceral experience for myself or my performers. It is often private or presented to a small audience. The archival documentation becomes a work in itself due to editing or display. It becomes an iteration of the live component and can be accessed by a wider audience. My photographic work, sans-performance, still retains a rhythmic quality, like a body flowing through space. There is an intentional, choreographed way that I navigate the viewer through my work as well, determined by the sequence or installation of the images.
Whether live or documented, my work acknowledges the viewer and sometimes even requires an action or contribution from them. Through interaction or gaze, the audience partakes in conversations with my work. As a response, my work embraces the external voyeur. This spectator who normally goes unseen, and delights in observing without consequence becomes acknowledged. The acknowledgement is subtle, sometimes manifesting as indirect deception, but can cause a change in consciousness in the so-called voyeur. The sense of control teeters between the work and the viewer, leaving no one at ease and no one in power.