I was born into a loving middle class family at the end of the 1980's. My Father was trained at the Opera and had an extensive background in musical theatre, he laid down his dreams of Broadway spotlights to have a family and serve his country in the navy at the time of my birth. My Mother is a poet, story teller and comedian. They way she can weave and sew words together, inspires me. My parents decided to raise my siblings and I in unconventional ways. They home schooled us. Which was difficult for me growing up, and at times I can still knock on the bitterness of being different or "uneducated" (in the traditional sense of the word). However I applaud my Parents for not indoctrinating me, and presenting the controversial idea of teaching me how to think and reason for myself.
I didn't like most music when I was a youngster, often times crying when my parents would drag me to concerts, I would pretend to have to use the restroom to avoid the piercing noise of pop culture. It wasn't until I was about nine years old when I began to find music I enjoyed. Beginning with surf rock, ska, reggae. At eleven I began taking guitar lessons, wanting to learn blues and jazz. I then was introduced to the harder side of life, through my adolescent years I knotted my hair into dreads and thrashed to heavy metal in polyester pants and tight t-shirts. I liked the raw edge of all the styles that began to shine light on the soil of my artistic development.
My sister was involved in a mime company 45 mins away from where we lived called "Silent Light". I too often mocked her for the white faced drama she would sculpt with her hands. I think I just liked making her cry because it was the only way I could cause her to relinquish her elder sibling control of me. My sister had the opportunity to study under the late and great Marcel Marceau two summers before he passed, but my mother coaxed her into spending four weeks under the direction of PUSH Physical Theatre (and 8 years later She is performing as a company member). Upon watching the culmination performance of that particular summer apprenticeship I fell in love with movement theatre, I dove into anything I could get my hands on. I have studied a wide variety of techniques ranging from corporeal mime to ballet, pilobolus non traditional partnering, American modern dance and now am in the midst of my own movement research. I owe my family much gratitude for an unending supply of inspiration and support for taking risks.
How does my story connect to agriculture and art? We begin as a seed in our Father's bodies, who plant and sew into our Mother's wombs. In great labor we are each "harvested" from the soils of our parents love (or in some cases accidental, miraculous emergencies of lust). Much like a seed of a plant, or a seed of an idea that grew into Michael Angelo's "David". We all are planted as a nothing, then as the seasons take their course we grow into something more than we could ever think of. A human. A tree. A masterpiece work of art. Each of these things pollinate, and take time to become what they are. Which is life. This is the art of growth.
I didn't like most music when I was a youngster, often times crying when my parents would drag me to concerts, I would pretend to have to use the restroom to avoid the piercing noise of pop culture. It wasn't until I was about nine years old when I began to find music I enjoyed. Beginning with surf rock, ska, reggae. At eleven I began taking guitar lessons, wanting to learn blues and jazz. I then was introduced to the harder side of life, through my adolescent years I knotted my hair into dreads and thrashed to heavy metal in polyester pants and tight t-shirts. I liked the raw edge of all the styles that began to shine light on the soil of my artistic development.
My sister was involved in a mime company 45 mins away from where we lived called "Silent Light". I too often mocked her for the white faced drama she would sculpt with her hands. I think I just liked making her cry because it was the only way I could cause her to relinquish her elder sibling control of me. My sister had the opportunity to study under the late and great Marcel Marceau two summers before he passed, but my mother coaxed her into spending four weeks under the direction of PUSH Physical Theatre (and 8 years later She is performing as a company member). Upon watching the culmination performance of that particular summer apprenticeship I fell in love with movement theatre, I dove into anything I could get my hands on. I have studied a wide variety of techniques ranging from corporeal mime to ballet, pilobolus non traditional partnering, American modern dance and now am in the midst of my own movement research. I owe my family much gratitude for an unending supply of inspiration and support for taking risks.
How does my story connect to agriculture and art? We begin as a seed in our Father's bodies, who plant and sew into our Mother's wombs. In great labor we are each "harvested" from the soils of our parents love (or in some cases accidental, miraculous emergencies of lust). Much like a seed of a plant, or a seed of an idea that grew into Michael Angelo's "David". We all are planted as a nothing, then as the seasons take their course we grow into something more than we could ever think of. A human. A tree. A masterpiece work of art. Each of these things pollinate, and take time to become what they are. Which is life. This is the art of growth.
