In this image, what is remembered in my body begins to move. The memory is not mental — it is somatic. It lives in muscle, breath, spine. And through dance, it releases itself.
The glass doesn’t contain the movement; it amplifies it. Colour follows the arc of my arms, the turn of my torso. The body becomes a site of remembering that is physical, rhythmic, alive. I am not performing choreography — I am letting something stored within me surface and pass through.
For me, this is what re-membering can become: not only recognition, but release. When you look at this image, I hope you can feel that movement in your own body — a reminder that memory is not only held, it can also be transformed through motion.
In this image, what is remembered in my body begins to move. The memory is not mental — it is somatic. It lives in muscle, breath, spine. And through dance, it releases itself.
The glass doesn’t contain the movement; it amplifies it. Colour follows the arc of my arms, the turn of my torso. The body becomes a site of remembering that is physical, rhythmic, alive. I am not performing choreography — I am letting something stored within me surface and pass through.
For me, this is what re-membering can become: not only recognition, but release. When you look at this image, I hope you can feel that movement in your own body — a reminder that memory is not only held, it can also be transformed through motion.
