Falling. Falling into the chasms of a topic is what propels my practice. I encounter these gaps in the fragmented approach upon which my practice builds: Choreography, writing, video, installation, and painting come with a specific way of looking at the topic, ways that might not be recognizable within other media. They lay bare different aspects, confront me with different questions, make me engage with different modes of thinking and being.

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After all, gaps expand time and space. They allow me to dwell with topics and questions that are difficult to be with. Gaps come with space in which relationships and attitudes lose their presupposed structure – gaps are spaces in which they can be refigured. Not that they would suddenly reinvent themselves; rather, it is in the dwelling that they stretch thinking, they stretch affection and they stretch possibilities to relate.

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Gaps invite me to investigate a different mode of being. One, in which there is space to moan, space to desire, space to do, and undo. I like to be undone by the chasms around us, to be undone by the tensions and frictions of the questions that arise out of them. Gaps are what make me fall apart; gaps are what make us fall together. It is in this tension between the falling apart and the falling together that I think of my work as a dedication to the fragmentized, paradoxical body and its possibilities to relate to other bodies in modes of constant oscillation and affect: It is about the relationship between a body and the social space within which it moves. It is about the relationship between the individual and the many. It is about the power of social norms, the inhibition, and the discipline resulting from this and it is about the origins of change and emancipation. It is about the relationship between the ideal body and the physical reality of that body. And it is about the realization that this relationship is different for every body.

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It is about how together we can be in flux.