I’m a queer ex-Evangelical artist from Texas. 

I create imaginary kaleidoscopic worlds to escape the trappings of life but from which life’s problems cannot be escaped.

A LIST OF PROBLEMS:
Religion.
Capitalism.
Depression. 
Loneliness.
Religion again.
The inability to communicate in a world that runs on words and not on feelings. 
     Maybe even the lack of a desire to communicate. 
Alienation. 
Vampires.
Clowns.

I make art for myself and trust that the audience will follow. 
Because I was once an audience. 
And sometimes I was fed. And sometimes I was not. 
More often, I was not. 
I found it in the alleys, and the basements, and the loading docks. 
I found it in artists and companies who understood implicitly that art is bread. 

Not in the places where art is a subscription. Like HBO. or Cinemax. 

And so I make my own bread. And the audience follows.
And many of them make bread for me in return.
And it is in that space that we find each other and build a future and a home.
And it is messy. And it is dark. And it is underfunded. But it is real. And it is nourishing. 
I also make actual bread, but that’s beside the point. 

I’m excited by theatre devoid of nuance. 
In which philosophies are not cast aside in favor of respectability. 
We live in an age on the brink of destruction. 
We must make theatre for the brink of destruction. 
Destruction cannot be avoided with nuance. 
Nuance is what drove us to the brink. It is moderation. Moderation is a tool to disguise harm. 
Destruction can only be avoided with violence. 
With screams. With fists. With thoughts. Naked thoughts. Bare. Unafraid of scrutiny and unafraid of didacticism and—

Theatre is walking into a room and getting railed for an hour. 
Stumbling out into the darkness perhaps unsure of meaning but sure of feeling.
Love and hate and fear and joy exist simultaneously. Or are otherwise just around the corner. Out of sight. 
But there. Together.
Always.