My work is a series of live booby traps.

Part of me craves the fixation of a million tiny riddled details within a maximalism of aesthetics;

the other part of me loves the impossibility of being able to perfect my tasks, due to the unexpected attack of elements - LiikEeee

cheeto dust slippery floor cake or water-filled fishing boots or rotten popcorn-throwing crowds or my precious interrupting cat.

I’m not afraid of danger. Or risk. Or fucking up.

That is where I’m my most taken-off-guard self, my most impulsive self.

I love leaning into the gross, random, and thoughtfully inappropriate.

I dream up overwhelmingly elaborate sets and costumes and movement and speech that feed and ambush my masochistic tendencies.

My body is this eagerly trained work horse that ends up diverging into a thrashy chaotic mountain goat.

I’m a fan of the curveball.

The unexpected humor that spontaneity brings.

The personable, the intimate.

The inevitable loss of control of the work that results in

unforeseeable interpretations.

At its root, I believe collaboration is the best of these

serendipitous concoctions.

I adore co-developing a common absurdist group language with

a wide swath of artists with mutual curiosities.

I am my most favorite self when I'm co-producing uncorked, unhinged

devised performance art.

and pursuing finessed madness.

Queering presumption, and thus, the process.

and defintely feeding on the interactively influenced experience.

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