An erasure of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, 1848
And furthermore what cannot be a citizen is great and godly and I am aware of what cannot be a body nor do I want one
Nature armed medicine and did not make republics nor designated gender, nor property
Governments reasoned, slipped behind previous gods to collect regret A gathering of claimants—our rights’ sacredness betrays us
Every day he tries to turn occupation into limbs to drown us but you and I have matches in our pockets, unending remedies—a love which implores our bodies to rest to fight
I annulled your friendship and instead—gleaned from blood—I drew a Guadalupe faith of impractical limits
My tongue’s seed bursts a sea of jasmine buds, thick leaves in every valley—I blow a concha shell and mountains flower snakes and instead—gleaned from blood—I give love I make no more maps
In my process as a choreographer, usually the image comes first: a spinning white plate, an underwater queen, a weeping bounce house, spaghetti hair. When constructing and deconstructing that image in the studio, I practice a sort of radical presence encompassing my body, my spirit, and the image. I aim at breaking open the symbolism in a way that might reveal something about the human condition. That research recycles back into my body and distills into a kernel of physical information that I use as a psychic barometer to navigate a more lengthy research period. The more time I have in this state, the more I am able to articulate tasks that I feel will guide the dancers toward surrender.
The photographs and notes shown here document this process through three works: Tropical Depression, a work in progress set to premiere in May 2019 at Miami Dade Live Arts; Carne Viva, first shown at the American Dance Festival (ADF) in 2016; and Make Believe, first shown at ADF in 2018.
Bound, a growing installation—a woven material data map—charts, maps, and traces multiple forms of entanglement in the face of anthropogenic climate change.
