I live on a car-less island. I like to improvise. I feel more and more I am a sonic activist for peace, and the freedom of creative expression. My cello grounds the frequencies of the spectrum with the rhythms of time and motion. My voice calling for a resonance of the soul, crossing the definitions of matter, to offer sound, to offer listening. I often improvise with dancers. I listen with my eyes and my body, to the dancer as a living score. I am researching the creation of individual song remedies. I am learning to write creatively by writing. I write film scores. I recently created a cello quartet for a short film honouring Abenaki filmmaker, printmaker, and singer Alanis Obomsawin, who has made documentary film about sacred land crisis from behind the blockades.
It is this kind of piece that compels me to score.
I am learning from my work, that I have only touched the surface of peace in my relationship to my daughter's father. That I have a sound emanating from me that is the sound of anger, and an expectation that men will fail me. It is the hidden message of excluding men from my creative work. I have recently completed a collaboration with a male dancer an Azerbiajani dancer who trades lineages in the name of peace. The subject was his political incarceration. I went right inside the experience, it was like dancing with trauma. Finally he whirls ecstatic, and I whirled with my cello.
Now I am making an installation with a turntablist. More circles turning. My loving ongoing discipline is raising my compassionate daughter to dream.