Reflections on my Germinate Residency

Germinate is a space grant residency program created by Malashock Dance to support choreographers, companies, and collectives who call San Diego home. The program offers free access to studio space so artists can explore new ideas without the pressure of producing a finished work. I was fortunate to spend two weeks inside the beautiful studios at Malashock's studio space in Liberty Station from January 12 through January 23, 2026.

I began this residency the same way I often begin a new year, with books, quiet time, and the intention to listen more deeply. The entire process of a daily choreographic practice was new for me, so I gave myself permission to release any expectations. Instead of gripping tightly to a desired result, I wanted to stay open and let creativity unfold in its own time. I had started a daily journaling practice on New Year’s Eve, and I carried that into the studio each day. One quote from Robert Henri stayed with me throughout this period.

"The object is not to make art. The object is to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable."

My goal was to quiet the noise in my mind, to temporarily set aside the demands of work, finances, the news cycle, and all of the outside pressures that pull at my attention. I wanted to create a mental space that felt sacred and open.

I also knew that my inner critic would surface. The voice that questions talent and worthiness. The voice that whispers that art is not a good use of time or that the end result needs to justify the effort. This internal conversation is familiar to so many choreographers and dancers. I expected it to arrive, and I reminded myself that I would need to turn down that voice if I wanted to make the most of my time in the studio.

To steady myself, I set a few simple guideposts:

• This is only the beginning

• This is a work in progress

• There is no good or bad

• Creativity is free play with no rules

• We are not playing to win

• We are playing to play

• There is no attachment to results

I was joined by three dancers who generously agreed to explore this work with me. A trio has always presented a particular challenge, and it is something I often avoid. The shifting balance among three people, the dynamics of stability and instability, and the relational and spatial negotiations that happen inside a trio felt like worthwhile terrain to explore. I was tempted at moments to expand the cast, but ultimately, I committed to the challenge of keeping it to three.

Accipiter Dance is dedicated to creating performance work that encourages dialogue and invites deeper inquiry into our personal and collective relationships with the natural world. This residency became an opportunity to continue that artistic throughline. The work, tentatively titled “Erosion,” expands on the metaphor of natural forces to explore both physical and emotional erosion. In my professional life I work in natural environments, dealing with sedimentation, erosion, sea level rise and similar. These experiences inform the heart of this piece.

I am interested in the parallels between the slow reshaping of landscapes and the gradual wearing away that can occur within human relationships. I worked with imagery of forceful impacts that echo extreme weather, paired with the quiet, almost imperceptible accumulation of change that happens over time. Natural forces shape the land. Emotional forces shape us. What remains after erosion has done its work can be beautiful or barren, but it is always a reflection of change.

I returned often to the writing of Terry Tempest Williams, whose work has inspired me in the past (see my blog post about my work, Birdwomen, also inspired by her essays). Her book “Erosion, Essays of Undoing” speaks to many forms of erosion including democracy, compassion, science, and trust. Several of her passages became touchstones for my movement research.

"Whatever I know as a woman about spirituality I have learned from my body encountering Earth. Soul and soil are not separate. Neither are wind and spirit, nor water and tears. We are eroding and evolving, at once."

"Do we dare hold our severed hearts in our hands as both an offering and a sacrifice..."

"Now I follow them, as though this is a normal occurrence, three pelicans on land who are skirting the lake, each foot stoically placed in front of the other. I take off my shoes as an act of solidarity and walk behind them, these righteous novices of the salt desert, walking themselves toward death."

"Weathering breaks things down. Erosion carries them away. There is no sanctuary from the warming Earth. There is only change and an eroding future where we are twirling-twirling-twirling and collapsing into finely honed humans who dare to fall and fail in the name of love."

These quotes appear here out of context, but I feel the themes resonate in the work. I did not share every concept with the dancers during creation, but as I reflect now, I can see how deeply these ideas shaped the piece. They were present in the movement, even when unspoken.

The initial concepts that guided my studio explorations included

• Stability and instability

• Proximity and drifting apart

• Pursue, reject, and retreat

• Elements of earth, wind, and water

• Crumbling and reforming

• The divine feminine

• The cyclical nature of things

• Return and site fidelity, the instinct of migratory birds to return to a place even as the ecosystem changes around them

The imagery that surfaced in the movement included

• Landslides

• Geologic instability and structures

• Lava

• Eddies of water

• The carving of landforms

• And always birds, which consistently find their way into my movement vocabulary

Throughout the process I welcomed feedback from others. My Germinate residency included dedicated time with Malashock’s Artistic Director, Christopher Morgan, whose insight and care in offering feedback was invaluable. I learned how much I benefit from verbal processing with someone I trust. My conversation with him left me feeling grounded in my approach and excited to push further.

I also made space for discussion with my dancers once the draft of the piece had taken shape. Their experiences inside the choreography enriched the work and offered perspectives I will carry with me into future creations.

In the end, do I think I made a perfect work? Absolutely not. Is it the most beautiful or most meticulously crafted piece I have ever made? Not at all. But I am deeply proud that I stayed committed to the process. I challenged myself, and I accomplished what I set out to do. I would not say that I have discovered my artistic voice, because I believe that voice is something we all continue to uncover throughout a lifetime. What I can say with confidence is that I am getting closer to a vocabulary and structure that feels clear and resonant, and unique to me. And I am inspired to keep learning.

I am grateful to Christopher, to Molly Puryear, and to everyone at Malashock Dance for this opportunity. And I am endlessly thankful to my dancers, Cara, Elise, and Carise, for their time, energy, and generosity throughout this journey.