I am a storyteller and a people person, and I speak through my work.

 

It’s that simple to me. It started out with the little girl who liked to bang around the house in her tap shoes and enjoyed the thrill of an audience applauding for her under the heat of the stage lights; the little girl who spent hours tapping away at her mother’s computer, writing short story after short story, asking every “what if” she could. Those “what ifs” have translated into how I create choreography and stories now, always playing games with myself and trying to take the work seriously - without taking myself too seriously.

 

Through my collegiate education, artistic development, and professional experience, these traits have developed further: when I dance, when I choreograph, and when I write stories, I am searching for an inkling of humanity. This inkling can be something beautiful, something decadent, something grotesque, or something whimsical. If I can make someone gasp with my work, lean back in their chair, cry, or jump for joy, then I have accomplished my goal.

 

If I can weave a narrative and make someone feel seen through them seeing me, then I have done my job. This is what fulfills me and sustains me, carrying me from one project to the next.