When do you work best?

This is a meaningful question for me because I’m in a season of my life and career where I’m unlearning old patterns and slowly reshaping what work and purpose mean to me. I don’t have a clear answer yet. For a long time, I was conditioned to believe that stress and overwork were signs of dedication—almost a source of momentum. I’ve worked within that structure out of necessity, driven by limited resources and the constant pressure to produce. Lately, I’ve been realizing that I do my best work when I’m deeply connected to myself. When I slow down enough to listen, tune in, and follow the sensations moving through my body, my work feels more honest, sustainable, and aligned.

How has your practice changed over time?

My practice has evolved from working on the surface to exploring deeper layers of experience, emotion, and memory. Over time, I have learned to draw from this depth with intention, allowing my work to grow in complexity and resonance. Today, my art reflects this journey—transforming what was once hidden into a source of nourishment and connection.

What fuels you?

My dreams are a profound source of motivation—not only the dreams that reflect my aspirations, but also the ones I experience while sleeping. These nocturnal visions help me stay connected to my humanity. Through that connection, I am able to remain attuned to others. They remind me that relationships matter, continually calling me back to awareness, empathy, and meaningful connection.

What material do you work with and why?

I work with the body as both source and resource, honoring and amplifying research as an experiential process. My approach integrates embodied awareness, somatic intelligence, narrative exploration, and the pursuit of wholeness through movement.

How do you get unstuck?

When I feel stuck, tension builds in my body. I have to slow down to notice what’s needed. Sometimes I stay with it and follow through, even if it’s uncomfortable. Other times, I step away and engage in something outside my work, which often helps me find a bridge to return with fresh insight.

Where do you find inspiration?

Inspiration is everywhere in life; it’s simply a matter of being receptive and open to it. The constant source of my inspiration, however, is my children—Aminata, Sokhna Diarra, and Massamba. They remind me of who I was at their ages and, in many ways, who I still am: a risk-taker, a dreamer, and an inquisitive, intuitive being.

Who has influenced your work?

I’m influenced by people who are going after what nourishes them.

Who do you hope to influence?

I hope to inspire the bold, adventurous go-getters, the quiet, thoughtful thinkers, and the free-spirited, easy-going souls. My work is meant to reach and influence everyone, in whatever way resonates with them.

Why are you an artist?

I make through movement because it is how I know the world, honor my joys and pain, and stitch together the fragments of myself that cannot be spoken. Every gesture, every breath, every rise and fall is my being—my prayer, my rebellion, my witness, my celebration. I am a movement artist, and I will continue to create, for movement is life, and life is movement.

What advice would you give other artists?

I wouldn’t call this advice. It’s simply what has carried me. Stay close to your intuition—let it speak before you explain it. Move beside fear, not ahead of it, not behind it. Remember to laugh—laughter keeps the door unlocked. You are not waiting for possibility. You are it. So lean—lean again, and keep leaning into yourself.

What question would you like to ask other artists?

In a previous life, who were you?