I make work at the threshold where sound, text, and movement refuse to behave as separate forms. My practice is driven by what I call sonic dramaturgy, where voice, archive, and body operate in relation rather than hierarchy. Choreography and sound design emerge together as co-constitutive forces. The body is not scored by sound, and sound does not accompany movement. They produce one another. I am interested in how performance can hold contradiction without resolving it, how it can stage rupture and intimacy within conditions shaped by survival, and how it can make space for what exceeds legibility. My work is grounded in Black queer life, not only as a social condition but as an interior one. I am concerned with what is carried quietly, what is felt before it is spoken, and what accumulates in the body as memory, tension, desire, and refusal. I engage the archive not as a stable record but as something lived and sensed. Gesture, breath, rhythm, and vocal residue function as archival traces alongside recorded material. These traces hold the weight of lives that are often misread, overexposed, or rendered illegible. What interests me is not only how Black queer life appears, but how it feels from within. I return to these materials as a living score. They are sounded, moved through, and re-voiced. Movement becomes a way of thinking, a way of staying with what cannot be resolved into language. I am drawn to the body's internal pressures, the pause before speech, and the excess that can't be contained. What matters is not preservation as fidelity but activation. The archive presses into the present through sensation, through timing, through weight. It is not behind us. It lives in the body.

Process is central to how I build performance. Through improvisation, physical scores, vocal layering, and durational structures, I construct environments where language and movement destabilize each other. Words repeat until they fracture or thin out. Movement phrases begin to falter or resist completion. A breath interrupts a thought. Sound gathers and lingers. In these spaces, the body is not illustrating meaning. It is holding it, resisting it, and sometimes refusing it altogether. Listening becomes choreographic. Movement becomes sonic. I work through accumulation, return, and revision rather than fixed outcomes. A phrase reappears altered in the body. A gesture carries something it cannot fully name. A sonic loop reshapes physical timing and attention. Movement interrupts itself, refusing continuity. This approach allows the work to remain porous, responsive to the present while staying accountable to the histories and interior lives it engages. The work does not arrive. It shifts. Improvisation allows me to remain in relation to what is unfolding in real time. It creates space for risk, for vulnerability, and for the possibility that something unplanned might surface. Performers listen with and through the body, responding across sound, text, and movement simultaneously. The work becomes a negotiation shaped by attention, by care, and by the willingness to remain with what is unresolved. Presence is not assumed. It is produced.

Collaboration is central to this practice. I work with performers whose bodies and voices are not neutral. They carry histories, desires, and contradictions that enter the work and alter its direction. Their interior lives are not hidden. They press outward, shaping the performance in real time. This is not collaboration as support. It is collaboration as structure. Authorship becomes distributed, contingent on the relationships formed through embodied and sonic exchange. I am not interested in resolving tension. I am interested in sustaining it. I create conditions where audiences are asked to listen and watch differently, where understanding remains partial, and where responsibility is shared. The work invites audiences to sit with dissonance, to encounter Black queer life not as spectacle but as something lived, felt, and continuously negotiated. At its core, my practice engages Black queer archives as sites of interior and relational life. I work with materials shaped by care, disappearance, survival, and refusal, not to stabilize them, but to let them move through the body and into the present. The goal is not to reconstruct the past but to allow its presence to unsettle what we think we know. I build environments that resist closure. Something emerges, shifts, and remains unfinished.

The work insists on its incompleteness. It asks to be encountered rather than consumed and to be carried forward as an ongoing relation grounded in Black queer interior life.