A while ago, not far from here, in the stormy story sewer, swam a hungry fish with keen fins and greedy gills, eating what she found: fact or fict, she didn’t care. Seaweeds, seawords, swords, mouldy pirates’ t-shirts, she ate it all up. From sky high to hell low, bible to belly, fairytop to fairytail, she swam and ate and swam and ate. Occasionally red faced pleasure cruise passengers would throw tiramisu or pieces of flame grilled steak overboard for her. Once she got caught on a fisherman’s hook but she escaped with a scar to prove it. After several years she looked back at her body and realised she was no longer a fish but a ship with huge fun- nels and roaring engines and greasy cabins. Appalled at this cumbersome situation, she resolved to lose excess baggage, and cough cough bleurgh, she spewed out the entire contents of her body. Then she swam off. Two restaurant managers who happened to be out sailing in the sewers, came upon the potent smelling remains of the fish’s insides. The bottled it up and became very rich selling fish sauce.
I drink old stories, stir them up with the outrageous/wonderful/bad shit that goes on under our noses and spit them out: the bitter sweet spot between hymn and public broadcast danger warning. I like words. Phonically, meaningfully, in sense and nonsense. Working with video, text, props, sound, music, performance --- it's all about the mixing together of these things into a hotpot. I aim to exalt the local; to harness the transformative and emancipating force of fantasy fiction; to use old and new narratives to let us interpret our experience and ultimately give us joyous and indignant agency in the world.