A site specific dance with Alonzo King LINES Ballet in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco. At night I dream that you and I are two plantsthat grew together, roots entwined,and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth,since we are made of earth and rain.Pablo Neruda, Regalo de un Poeta
Continue Reading →The thing about catching bodies in motion against those gritty San Francisco Chinatown backdrops, I’m threading this beautiful needle between the pristine and the profane, right? The classical line meeting the cracked sidewalk. It’s not some precious art school contradiction; it’s the only honest collision that matters. And we’re doing this from on top of […]
Continue Reading →
Two hands rise, separating into yฤซn and yรกng Left and right like a yฤซn and yรกng fish Movement springs from extreme stillness, opening then closing Relax the shoulders and sit on the leg as if embracing the moon Two hands form into yฤซn and yรกng palms Two palms crossed over for locking joints Wait for […]
Continue Reading →
Love Me. Love my Umbrella. James Joyce. I’m standing there in Golden Gate Park with my Leica and two dancers decide to play with gravity under an umbrella built when the last century was still drawing breath, and what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do when two bodies make architecture […]
Continue Reading →
San Francisco itself is art, above all literary art. Every block is a short story, every hill a novel. Every home a poem, every dweller within immortal. That is the whole truth. William Saroyan The Wave Organ’s this crumbling concrete jetty that some madman stuck pipes into so the bay could gargle its own tidal […]
Continue Reading →
Painters have canvas and pigment, writers have words and delusions, musicians have strings and wood and air. But dancers? They’ve got meat and bone and the ticking clock of their own deteriorating ligaments. Every arabesque is a negotiation with gravity and mortality. You can’t separate the art from the artist because the artist is the […]
Continue Reading →The Photograph is an extended, loaded evidence โ as if it caricatured not the figure of what it represents (quite the converse) but its very existence … The Photograph then becomes a bizarre (i)medium(i), a new form of hallucination: false on the level of perception, true on the level of time: a temporal hallucination, so […]
Continue Reading →