Theater feels to me like magical realism – you can go your whole life never knowing it’s there, but poke around, and suddenly you’re noticing posters and storefronts all over the place. Lured in as a teenager by theater’s ability to conjure a sense of home and family, I found myself surrounded by vibrant, visceral exploration.

I’m here for the camaraderie, the intimacy, and the adventure. But more than anything, I love that the art of theater-making is rooted in the task of community organizing: Reading plays on couches, procuring unconventional performance spaces, orchestrating semi-secret apartment shows, and building creative havens for collaborators and audiences during uncertain times.

I am hungry for wild, murky, unruly stories, for rehearsal processes of magic and mayhem, and rigorous projects that push the boundaries of our medium. Good theater feels to me like a team sport. I want to fight for the life of a show – fight hard, struggle deeply, and win.

Here are some questions that keep me up at night and get me out of bed in the morning:
– How do we make art that feels both chaotically dangerous and keeps us safe?
– What are rehearsal practices that build healthy camaraderie and encourage lasting connection between artists?
– What kind of projects will make my kid siblings think I’m cool? (:P hi Lilian and Julian, I know you’re reading this...)