This is the physical manifestation of erosion meeting precision, meat meeting myth at the absolute crumbling edge of America. Sutro Baths was always a monument to hubris, some gilded age dream of swimming pools carved into coastal apocalypse, and now it’s just honest ruins, which is when things finally get interesting. These dancers aren’t in […]
Continue Reading →The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself. William Blake, Letters I […]
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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
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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 […]
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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 […]
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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 […]
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