There are inner forces in my life that seem to be unrelated to conscious thought, and it is from within those unseen realms that I uncover my voice. My body is my house: the bones and blood of me linking my inner core to the physical world around me. Throughout my life I have been twinned with nature, sometimes feeling no different from a tree, a stream, a boulder. I have always tried to be free within the company of the earth, to let me insides open up within the strong presence of the sensual world: licking pebbles, rolling in leaves, howling in the forest, burying my face in moss.
I relate to the wise women of old who understood the natural forces. They knew how to taste plants, listen to the water, smell the storm, feel the body. They knew the magic of everyday and for this they were condemned. The works that I create are the narrators of my innermost core, and sometimes I make them bound by love, and sometimes I make them bound by lust, and sometimes I make them bound by terror. Many times they make themselves through some ancient song that only my bones and blood can hear. All that I do know is if I cannot create, the noise within me becomes deafening, and I can no longer hear my own heartbeat.