The performances, the happenings, the moments that can’t be pinned down or hung on a gallery wall. I think it up. I make it. I document it. Dig through it. Try to understand it. All because this work tells me something I need to know about the places and communities it came from.
Once I really understand how environments got to be the way they are — physical, social, political — I start to see the cracks. The places where it could have gone differently. Where it still could go differently.
This isn’t just about preserving the past. An archive of photos and fading memories and half-remembered conversations I probably should have walked away from earlier. It’s about using this work, this practice, as proof that what we’ve got isn’t the only option.
That the way things are isn’t the way things have to be. It’s about proving there are other ways to live, other ways to be — ways I maybe just haven’t had the imagination or the guts to reach for yet.
How did I… you… we… end up here?
What forces shaped these spaces?
Who decided things had to be this way?
