Her work is scaling the dying rock. The snake is speaking music. We are dancing in the wild walls of blood and sound, and darkness raises the white sand, and failure is the bottom gold and the future for the dry shadow of the body. Everything shines, and nothing is young. If fire is the future and winded midnight is asking that a man fall to black tables, then the troubles one hears and hears are the taut and twisting stories of control. (June 1, 2013)
: Metronome, violin, voice
: Tape-manipulated singing bowls
