My work has evolved from a preoccupation with the most basic form and function of theatre. I’m always looking from an extreme distance and with a deep curiosity about why it happens. What are the rules? If I take away an element that seems to be essential to this experience, what is revealed in that absence?
One of the biggest challenges in my work is time. I’m asking for more time from the audience than is polite—or even reasonable—to ask. I’m interested in time as the
essential element of live performance. This is the only way in which it differs from other narrative-driven, audience-centered art. The time it takes to make the work live is equal to and coterminous with the audience’s experience of it. We ask to share time with the audience, and I’m interested in everything that suggests—that time has value, that it encompasses complex consciousness, accepting that it may include a wide variety of experience from enjoyment to boredom, sleep, hunger... When we get past the minutes and seconds, is there room for biological, or even geological time in the theatre? If theatre is a radioactive isotope, then what is the rate of decay?