Sweeping pendulum limbs, staccato tip toes skipping into a heap on the ground. Metronome hearts, beating through rising and falling rib cages. Gazes fixed on an invisible moving target, with the steadiness of a hawk, scanning for a branch to land. Primal, glistening deep blue swaths of paint stains are all that remain. Dragging inky palms, catching a fleeting moment of contact. Evidence of continuous attempts to move into what is not certain. 

Observing. Motion into static. Static into motion. Interpreting mid-collapse; a cluster of pulsing bodies. Reference versus memory. Past brought into present. Brush strokes focused and free. Brush strokes frustrated and tortured. Destruction into conception. Searching strokes, laying a web of catharsis. Evidence of continuous attempts to move into what is not certain. 

Two parallel experiences intermingle when drop cloth that was placed beneath painted dancers is stitched together with drop cloth that I used beneath me in the creation of their depiction. Both, remains of fluid human movements, conscious and subconscious. These surfaces are our stories, testimony of our curiosity and perseverance in the face of chaos.They collect traces of our underlying animal instincts, and perhaps our perpetual and inexplicable urge to transmute the experience of being here in a physical body.