I've been directing plays and creating solo performances since I was a kid in my parent's basement. Then: in high school classrooms, wedding function halls, black box college theaters, fringe venues, and now online. As a director, instead of focusing on a particular school or technique, my goal is to make mindful theater. What that means is cultivating in myself and in my actors the ability to be present with what is happening during rehearsal. Following your gut to follow the audience.

Stepping back and letting the answers come from the actors or from my own bodily impulse is a huge part of the process. I'm very interested in what happens to us as actors, directors, and writers when we take off our theoretical hats and look at theater from the point of view of an audience member that's out there to enjoy themselves, to be moved, but also to ask uncomfortable questions. In the same way that no two snowflakes are alike, I believe that no two pieces of theater should be directed in the same style. Rather, we should sink our teeth into the story and poetry of each piece and see what it requires, whether that's the kind of training that comes from musical theater, poetic tableaus, or a kitchen-sink drama.

Artists I admire include Peggy Shaw & Lois Weaver, Sarah Ruhl, Annie Baker, and Miranda July. Though they are quite different at first glance, what these writers have in common is a willingness to go on lyrical flights of the imagination while still being firmly grounded in the uncomfortable questions that come up with everyday reality and even documentary and biography. My definition of a perfect play is one that would make imagination fly to celestial heights – where a pool might appear in the orchestra pit as Othello spills his guts!

I love classical acclaimed plays as much as original solo performances. I believe if theater doesn't lead us to a more compassionate world both in terms of our relationships and ourselves, it is not theater at all. This doesn't mean every piece of theater has to be about making the world a better place; the comical, the dark, it's all up for grabs. But in the rehearsal process, if it doesn't lead us to genuine connection and joy, the process has failed because theater in its origins is ritual.