In Accumulation – Influx 32 the confrontation with my memories builds up a ritualized movement. A video is screened while the audience arrives at the performance space. It shows me writing a letter to the man who is in prison with charges for murdering an older brother of mine. After five years of his imprisonment—and more than 13 years of my brother’s passing—, the action of writing captured on video releases a silent monologue with its broken tempo, full of pauses and restarts. The dance, by its turn, reveals constriction, sobriety, and self-control. The result can be read as a martial/funeral ritual influenced by the duality of references from my deceased brother and from his murder.

32 is the number of days since I started crafting the structure shared with the audience at the Judson Church in the Spring 2013.

In Accumulation – Influx 32 the confrontation with my memories builds up a ritualized movement. A video is screened while the audience arrives at the performance space. It shows me writing a letter to the man who is in prison with charges for murdering an older brother of mine. After five years of his imprisonment—and more than 13 years of my brother’s passing—, the action of writing captured on video releases a silent monologue with its broken tempo, full of pauses and restarts. The dance, by its turn, reveals constriction, sobriety, and self-control. The result can be read as a martial/funeral ritual influenced by the duality of references from my deceased brother and from his murder.

32 is the number of days since I started crafting the structure shared with the audience at the Judson Church in the Spring 2013.

In Accumulation – Influx 32 the confrontation with my memories builds up a ritualized movement. A video is screened while the audience arrives at the performance space. It shows me writing a letter to the man who is in prison with charges for murdering an older brother of mine. After five years of his imprisonment—and more than 13 years of my brother’s passing—, the action of writing captured on video releases a silent monologue with its broken tempo, full of pauses and restarts. The dance,
by its turn, reveals constriction, sobriety, and self-control. The result can be read as a martial/funeral ritual influenced by the duality of references from my deceased brother and from his murder.

32 is the number of days since I started crafting the structure shared with the audience at the Judson Church in the Spring 2013.

In Accumulation – Influx 32 the confrontation with my memories builds up a ritualized movement. A video is screened while the audience arrives at the performance space. It shows me writing a letter to the man who is in prison with charges for murdering an older brother of mine. After five years of his imprisonment—and more than 13 years of my brother’s passing—, the action of writing captured on video releases a silent monologue with its broken tempo, full of pauses and restarts. The dance, by its turn, reveals constriction, sobriety, and self-control. The result can be read as a martial/funeral ritual influenced by the duality of references from my deceased brother and from his murder.

32 is the number of days since I started crafting the structure shared with the audience at the Judson Church in the Spring 2013.