the river, the body


We ARE water beings living on a water planet: 70% of the earth’s surface is covered with water; 60% of the adult human body is water, carried by blood, lymph, and the water within each cell. We cannot survive without fresh water. In 2016 the Housatonic region saw the worst drought in recorded history. Our once casual relationship to water, and our often-unconscious relationship to our own bodies are comingled in the growing climate crisis.

RIVER/BODY is a site-specific, multidisciplinary, community-engaging dance performance project inspired by the Housatonic River. Working with professional and local student performers, RIVER/BODY uses movement and dance to reflect the ways that our experience of environment is in fact a living process supported by bodily sensations, movements, perceptions, emotions and thoughts. My intention with RIVER/BODY is to vividly express our wild, fluid bodies and their consanguinity with the wildness that surrounds us.

RIVER/BODY will take place in August 2017 in Northwest Connecticut and Massachusetts at several sites along the Housatonic River.

This is an open call to  dancers, artists, river enthusiasts in the Northwest Connecticut and Tri-State region to contact me about how you can become involved in the creation and performance of RIVER/BODY.  I welcome your ideas, your passion your bodies!  Please email me at





Pauline Oliveros



For my dear friend and mentor, the brilliant, generous, wise and kind Pauline Oliveros, who passed peacefully last Thursday.  We are listening Pauline, remembering your instructions, remembering your sounds and presence.  You are with us forever.


Lines For Winter

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself —
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

~ Mark Strand  ~









I took this picture earlier this fall, when I was still full of optimism and expectation. I watch her in all seasons, changing her aspect, her colors, but always the guardian, overlooking Winchell Mountain in Millerton, NY with her antlers cocked skyward. She is now just bones and branching fascia, but in October, she was flowering, still green and luscious.

Then I was awaiting the election of our first woman president, the great and wonderful Hillary Clinton, and the end of her ugly, deplorable opponent.

I do not feel hopeful now.  I feel angry and watchful –  “on the muscle,” as we say in the horse world, when the horse is spooked and ready to fly or fight.

So let’s fight.  Let’s stand up and show the world what activism and outrage really look like.  Let my gorgeous beast be just one of our protectors, as we come together to protect her, what surrounds her, and each other.








united we stand



A piccolo played, then a drum.
Feet began to come – a part of the music.  Here comes a horse,
clippety clop, away.

 My mother said, “Don’t run –
the army is after someone
other than us.  If you stay
you’ll learn our enemy.”

 Then he came, the speaker.  He stood
in the square.  He told us who
to hate.  I watched my mother’s face,
its quiet.  “That’s him,” she said.

 ~ William Stafford ~

 (The Way It Is)