I think of myself as an aliveness artist. My work is devoted to making things felt. Song can go where speaking cannot, carrying grief and praise, ecological rupture, loneliness, death, belonging and the unseen into the body. Music, poetry, theatre, and collective art enter through porous skin. The heart and belly sense. The bones awaken.

For me, this is also a practice of re-sensitizing and re-rooting, tending what has been numbed, severed, or forgotten through generations of uprooting, assimilation, colonization, and disconnection from land, ancestry, and one another. Through grief, song, culture-building, and remembering, I am interested in how we become more available to our bodies, to one another, to the living world, and to mystery.

Something changes when we experience art together. A line is sung and a room echoes it back. Separate voices become a living body of sound. We move from witnessing into participation.

Perhaps this is some of art’s oldest magic: carrying us beyond the thinking mind and into ways of knowing that can only be felt.