When do you work best? 

Early mornings, 6 to 9. Late nights after 9 pm. The in-between times when no one's asking anything of you.

How has your practice changed over time?

I'm less afraid of not knowing and more interested in what I don't understand than what I do. The rooms become more playful — space for people to try things, fail, try again. The playwright's guiding questions lead, and the story is in the center of the room. 

What fuels you?

Finding something in rehearsal we didn't know was there. Unexpected bravery. Listening for what lies beneath. A shift of approach or attention that deepens a scene or opens something up. A stunning moment that hits just so, that takes my breath away.

What material do you work with and why? 

New plays, mostly. Work that doesn't fit easily into categories. Playwrights who ask difficult questions through language. Plays that allow me to build a world outside of the expected, with actors, dramaturgs, and designers who are lit up by the challenge. I’m drawn to work that is unsettling and leaves the audience with something significant to chew on. Creating space where uncomfortable things can be faced together. That's the point, isn't it — the together part.

How do you get unstuck? 

Read the play again. Go quiet. Immerse myself in water. Sketch things out. Stay up too late, let my mind drift. Write things down without editing. Look at paintings, films, anything that's not theater. Often the answer arrives from the periphery.

Where do you find inspiration? 

Experiences that collapse the distance between the artist and the audience. I just went to Jon Batiste’s show and was immersed in communal love, joy, grief, and awakening. Being in nature. Did you know that you can hear the humpback whales sing to each other underwater just offshore in Hawaii? If you didn’t drop down even a few feet into the deep blue, you would have no idea. A piece of art that shifts how you see things. 

Who has influenced you and your work? 

Les Waters taught me about trust. Trust your designers and your actors. He also taught me about listening. Listening to the play. Get his book The Theatre of Les Waters: More Like the Weather. Akira Kurosawa for his world building and use of spirit, Kiai, and Ma. adrienne maree brown for her frameworks around collective visioning and transformation. Tony Taccone. Now I know what he means when he says “Next!”

Who do you hope to influence? 

Young directors and young artists who want to make weird and challenging theater. People who are passionate about building a world that centers creative spirit.

Why are you an artist? 

Don't know what else I'd do, honestly. I love the learning part — you never stop learning if you're doing it right. Love the courage it requires from everyone in the room. Theater lets you create intimately with others. It’s almost absurd, really. We get to immediately build communities where we face difficult questions, be vulnerable, and find possibility in that. Seems important. Essential, actually.

What advice would you give other artists? 

Keep going. Trust yourself — your instincts are probably better than you think. Listen to the artists on your team and sift for gold. Simple to say, difficult to believe in the moment, worth working toward.

What question would you like to ask other artists? 

Where does your courage come from? Because I don't think we generate it alone — we give it to each other, somehow. I'd like to know how that works for other people.