Imagine you are in a place of worship—for you, this place could be any-place, not just a church or temple. In this place, through a window, a stream of light comes to meet you in a very precise way.

This moment is so simple, yet so honest, embodied, and full of grace.

That is the feeling I aim to bring to my audiences, in each work: a simple piercing of light. I am interested in every component of this experience: the person, the place, the apparatus, the light.

I work across installation, image, live and immersive performance, emerging media, poetry, and prose. All my art is marked by aesthetic precision and clarity—the joy of looking at just a few things with loving attention.

I invite audiences to lean into the unknown with me, with delight and curiosity, without fear.

I have worked in close community with astrophysicists for many years, and I consider astronomy to be my scientific home, my container for peering into darkness. Astronomy excites me with its shapeshifting and exploration, how playfully it slips into the sublime and the divine. And though I work with cutting-edge science from present-day scientists, my work also rumbles with ancient questions.

I do not build my dreams alone; no one does. Among my collaborators are astronomers, producers, fellow artists, and the universe itself. My audience members are always on my mind, and with care for them, I take my time.

I am grateful for the long continuum of other artists who have practiced in this assembly—of art, science, the ancient, the divine. Etel Adnan, Muriel Rukeyser, and Hilma af Klint have been important ancestors for my practice. I hope that years from now, or centuries, an artist or a whole community will go looking for their own artistic ancestors, and I will be there, just as these women have been there for me. If you are reading this text from that future, know that I am with you, in archive and in spirit.