These films all started in the dirt. I buried filmstock with rat shit, rotting strawberries, failed artworks. Basically whatever I could scrounge from the garden, bathroom drawer, compost, or hidden under a child's bed. I smeared it with breastmilk, old lipstick, sweat, and tears. I scratched it, dragged it, left it out for the snails and the weather. I wasn’t trying to make something beautiful. I was testing what would happen if I let the world intervene. These early works were feral, bodily, and unresolved. They taught me a lot about process, patience, failure, and letting go. But they didn’t teach me that ruin is a form of collaboration. That mess is method. That the gothic lives under the lawn. I already knew that. These works just helped me remember...
