My practice is concerned with the body as a site of contention: from our somatic locations we experience the world uniquely. Drawing on ritual, shamanic practices and indigenous spirituality, I work with sound, vibration and performance to express my lived experience and responses to the world I inhabit.
Rhythmicity Me. Dancer. Artist. Dancing. Tap tap tap. Sounds and vibrations resonating. Shifting. Sorting. Processing data: colours, shapes, textures, tap, tap, tap. Beat. Beat. Beat. One, two, three, more and more, continuing. Continuously creating, constantly shifting. Sorting. Beat. Beat. Beat. Sound. Tapping to the beat there is sound, there is vibration, there is inherent within the action a sense of time, space, shifting. The action of placing toe and then heel and then toe and then heel and then toe again and again as a way of marking time, holding space, internally shifting. Sorting. Data is complex. Perceptually I see - but sight does not enable me to feel, to embody, to know. I only know when I let it flow through my feet. Sound. Vibration. Shifting. Sorting. Beat. Beat. Beat.
Rhythmicity Me. Connecting. Seeking. Finding self-sitting and tapping. Tap, tap, tap. Never still. Never. Light falls in the space before me. I wait. I listen. I move still moving still shifting still sorting data. Process of being. Being Me. Never the same. Always moving. Always shifting. Time. Space. Full of vibrations. This space is vibrating wildly. I sit still and I am calm. Processing. Feeling.
Feet on the Ground. Sound. Never both feet at the same time. Always shifting. One two three four, and one… Counting used to be calming. Now it feels restrictive, tame, difficult to maintain. Never the same. Each and every moment is different. I am different now. Every second shifting space and time. Never the same. Standing still I see things clearly now. The centre does not yet shine.
Time. This time is mine. Rhythmicity Me is in this space and time. The centre begins to shine. I shift. I move. I walk slowly. I find another space, another place. I sense the vibrations. I process. Tap, tap, tap. Never still. Sometimes I hover between the beats, between the ticking of the clock, the pendulum swing. Inside the rhythm is where I choose to be. Inside the rhythm I can be Me. Beat. Beat. Beat.
Moving into another space I wait. Time sits with me. Patiently paused. Bare feet on the wood beneath me. Feeling the grain under my toes, heels, balls. The sway and flow. The energy of the Maple tree held in the wood. Beneath my feet. The wood vibrates. Energy flows. Wood is never truly dead. We dance together the Maple wood and I. Vibrations bounce between us. Sound fills the space. Resonates around the place. Beat. Beat. Beat.
Light lands and I watch carefully. Light illuminates the dark places. Softly. Tread lightly here. No need for noise. Soft. Softly. Tap, tap, tap. Before me images arise, they swirl, they hover, they collect inside my head. Each one marked by the passing of time. Tap, tap, tap.
Objects loom large. I walk around to find a place to locate myself. I stand. I stamp my feet. Beat. Beat. Beat. Strong vibrations bounce between the objects and I. Somewhere between us the vibrations hover. They resonate. The room is full. Yet there is so much space. Shoes on I hit the floor. I break the tension. I shift. I move on. Always moving. Never still. Time to move. Time to shift. Time waits.
Moving shapes and forms. People. Taking up space. Talking. Moving constantly. Never still. Tap, tap, tap. Between us the vibrations flow. Feeling. Feel it in the bones. Feel it through the floor. Feel it in the air. Feeling free I cannot stop. Tap, tap, tap. There is so much to say. I say it loudly now. I share. I make sounds and vibrations. Beat. Beat. Beat.
The day was bright as I walked into the gallery. I was excited. I had been looking forward to the day for an age and today was the day – WAIWAV Day was finally here. I took what I needed for the day with me as I walked barefoot into Room 1: a gallery stool to sit, a wooden board to tap on, and my black tap shoes. The gallery was quiet – it had only just opened. I could hear the echoes of people talking but in Room 1 there was just me to start with. I placed self in front of a painting and started to move my feet, making sounds, beats, responses. A few people wandered through the space and I was vaguely aware of them but I was in my own world now. Tapping.Responding. Processing. I moved from painting to painting, room to room, sometimes talking and interacting but mostly people seemed to quietly observe or simply walk on by as if I was always sitting there making noise. I love interventions. I love the way people almost ignore you; trying not to stare, whereas others get their phones out and take pictures or videos and then move on as if saying to themselves, nothing to see here. But the sounds I make follow them – they resonate and echo around the spaces and I feel expansive, huge – I imagine sound vibrations reaching into all the corners, resonating in bone, canvas, wood and flesh. I play with the echoes in some spaces, enjoyingthe way the sounds bounce about the room. I sometimes find myself trying to be quiet as if I don’t want to invade others experience but how can I not? Sound travels. I travel. I move to this room, that room, delighting in the different forms; something different seems to happen when I respond to sculptural forms and these take me somewhere else entirely. I follow the contours, feel the textures, sense the form. In the Henry Moore room I cannot stop from smiling. What a joy this day has been. It's not often you get the chance to tap dance in front of art works in gallery spaces. Lucky me. Happy me. Rhythmicity Me.