Photography may be the worst possible medium in which to document dance. Dance is essentially and by definition about movement through time and space (even in its stillness). Photography can almost be defined as the very antithesis of this - an effort to freeze or suspend movement and interrupt the flow of time. Photography creates an eternal present. Thus using photography to document dance is often akin to using a blowtorch to preserve an ice sculpture. The chosen tool can't but destroy what it seeks to preserve.
Rather than depict or document dancers or their choreographies, I’m seeking to create a hybrid art form that cannot be reduced back into the elements that comprise it. These graphs of light and movement cannot depict nor be credited to the dancers because dance cannot exist within a single captured moment or photograph; I am also moving the camera mid-exposure with, and in response to, the dancers. Nor can it be credited solely to the photographer because the work of the dancers is so integral to the creation of these images, as is happenstance. I never know exactly how motion and light are going to be captured in these longer exposures - our mind won't render the world in this way. And so, the dancers become brushes, fabric and light become paint, and the camera - an always unpredictable canvas. In this way these images become a photographic fusion or adaptation of Pollock's action painting and Klein's body painting.