“Untitled” is a written dance. The dance is literally the movement of ideas and words that I type live and then project on a small screen. The piece itself describes the problems it grows out of. I enter an empty, dark stage. I turn on the projector, open my computer, sit and begin to type:

Begin / Again / Being / Begin

I step into the studio to create this solo and I cannot begin because the word why keeps getting in the way.

I began dancing when I was five.

When I think about five, I think about the smell of leather ballet shoes, the tinkling sound of Chopin on the record player.

When I am alone, I dance.

And when I dance, I am free and strong and wild and sexy and I take up space and I am bold and quiet and subtle and flowing and chaotic and gentle and destructive and grounded and centered and off center and a banshee and music takes me over and I am crazy and seductive and neutral and aldfjd;fjda;lfjlghlakgjdlfjadlfj’ldfjlakdfjldkfjlfkjldakfjl;afjkahdfkhadlfkjkdjhglkajlgjgl;kjadlfkj;lfdkjalfkjflkjdafljdlfkjldkjlafjdlkfj and words are not necessary. But when I think about making art, the word why feels necessary. Because I am obsessed with the movement of ideas, the choreography of language. And I am obsessed with history and the ways we move forward.

When I began this solo, I wanted to take advantage of the space in which it was performed. I would change this section depending on where I was. In this case I am on a page, in a book. I imagine all of the wild ways I could expand this place. I could make the words jump off the page, dangle from strings, or take little airplanes into space. They could be animated or accompanied by music or lodged in the imagination of the reader. They could band together with other entries and create a word union, fighting for more money and benefits. They could sing to us or start rearranging themselves or I could climb into the page and dance with the letters. I could curl inside an O and slide down a C soaring out into space at the end. At some point I would need to climb back out of the page. I would stand up and take my first steps out into the studio and into the unknown. I’d be accompanied by history, but, ultimately, alone.