I’ll post new photos of the infected area in the comments

2025

performed as part of Choreographer’s Evening at Walker Art Center

I've become bored with the mythology of my own rejection. I like to press that feeling up against the cinematic suspense of these times; really heighten the melodrama. It's like complaining about a papercut whilst inside a forest fire. Like, but how can I make this about me? I wanted to make a dance about those feelings; something that would be fun to make and you'd enjoy watching. Oh, and can somebody tell me: does the ennui start to take on a warm patina with age, or is it more like a weeping rash that doctors can't cure?

Photo: Kam Herndon