Raised in a landscape of domestic violence, I have seldom spoken of it directly as my own story, for I believe that everything is a reflection.Domestic violence and structural violence are mirror images. They are all repetitions of patronage and oppressive power at every level; from the family to the state itself.

.

Consequently, almost all of my works speak on structural violence.

I use the body and performance as tools, not to preach, not to dictate,

But to offer something that people might never have seen or felt existed, and make it clearly visible on the stage. My work offers neither conclusions nor answers; It works with the internal state of the audience, positioning us on equal ground.

.

My artistic approach is rooted in Devising Theatre. I start with a concept, realize it into images, and weave them into chapters for the audience to process it themselves. It is like viewing abstract art; There is no explanation, yet it makes you feel something.

.

The things that can’t be spoken are the things that must be said, because if we remain silent, it is as if we are accepting them. This, I believe, is the duty of art.And though it is exhausting, though I grow weary of repeating the same old things again and again, as long as the structure remains unchanged, I still have a reason to be on the stage. For me, to make art is both to release and to hope; to hope that society will change. At the risk of sounding overstated, if a single audience leaves the theatre feeling something, questioning something, then the art has done its duty. But after all this time, I have always spoken for others, rarely for myself.

.

“Dialogue with a Flower-Crowned Man of Thorns” is the first time I have turned the question inward; How did a person raised in violence, who survived through art, become an artist who works like this?

Through dialogues with a group of artists, through materials that once were in my past works; oil drums, aluminum wire, plastic sheets, road barriers, plates, and through a body that remembers everything, even as the mind tries to move on. This piece is not a vent, nor is it a confession. It is the opening of a dialogue with myself, with my collaborators, and with the audience sitting before me.

.

The creative process originated from establishing a space of equality between myself and the ensemble, through interviews, experiments in the rehearsal room, the recreation of past scripts, and allowing stories to emerge from the dialogue between the body and the materials, rather than from a predetermined topic.

.

This project is a pause, a pause to think, to wait, and to prepare to go on. It is a crossroad of in-betweenness where unknowing meets the threshold of clarity. It is another journey, one I seek to anchor here.