New York, US – Instagram
“Ghost Dance,” Black and White film, my Grandfather’s Nikon EL2, 2015, Oakland, CA. It isn’t easy to be understood when you are a female shaman. My practice with film helps. It allows me to be present and absent, instinctual, ritualistic, in-between, and experimental. This photograph is in the driveway of a garage jazz concert. That summer night before I left. Lightheaded and dreary bodies sway at dawn. Streetlights take over for the fading sun. Shadows strengthen. Nighttime. Passer-bys lured in with a cool saxophone. Heavy hitting cymbals scratch across the image like unforgiving talons. Dancers’ moods merge with music. Shoes are thrown off. Bare feet on concrete. This camera is a portal into the world as I feel it. The ancestors and spirits of the land showed up that night in Oakland. Do you know how deep roots go? Ghost Dance.