When I was a child, I would cry and scream injustice until my head swam with swollen dizziness. I would exhaust tears with crumpled hands weaving in and out of eye-sockets. I would bawl until I passed out from the strain. Memories of such times have begun streaming back with potency, in dreams and nightmares, the feeling of a childhood spent upset, of wet faces, screeching persistent mouths, simple demands made outrageous on a daily basis. Crazy childhood violence is packaged in recollections of sweaty miniature hands, memories I can taste, live childhood embodiment swimming like an hallucination in my head, the tears and snot in my mouth.

My mother once compared herself to connective tissue – “a fibrous and most diverse tissue” – the stuff that goes in between the landmarks of our internal organs and connects them. I have inherited this skill, making connections between things that may not appear to have a common element. I am aware of the inevitable interconnectivity of things – the particular concoction of elements and events which borrowing from all my histories, has led me here and inspired Constellations, my most ambitious creative project to date – a sort of conscious grasp at something to live for.
Over the last year I have been imbued with a real feeling of necessary action.