On My Own Terms
In my exploration of art and identity, I find myself drawn to the spaces where intimacy and openness intersect—where not everything is fully visible or explained, and where meaning is allowed to unfold naturally. These spaces feel closer to how I experience connection and identity, particularly as I work to unlearn the pressure to define everything with clarity or finality.
This exploration found an early starting point in On Our Own Terms, a collaborative video project I created with Dori Förster as part of the 5x4x3xqueer series. Over the course of a weekend, we created a space to experiment and share ideas, without a strict plan or predefined outcome. One of the moments from this process, which was not captured on camera, involved taking turns dancing for each other—just once. This act, shared privately, became a moment of connection and vulnerability that shaped how I thought about the project afterward.
In the video itself, we chose not to show the dance. Instead, we offered an audio narration of how each of us experienced the other’s movements, paired with partial views of the observing artist’s eyes and face. At the time, this felt like a way to balance what we shared with what we kept private, though the full implications of this choice didn’t become clear to me until much later. Looking back, I realize this decision shifted the focus from the physicality of the dance to the act of witnessing—an exploration of perception, connection, and the boundaries between what is revealed and what remains unseen.
This choice also reflected a desire to resist the flattening of queer identity into something tokenized or oversimplified. In a cultural landscape where visibility is often demanded but rarely nuanced, the project became, in hindsight, a way to explore what it means to share on one’s own terms. The interplay between what is shared and what is withheld challenges the reduction of complex identities into symbols or narratives designed to fit pre-existing frameworks. Instead, it invites a slower, more reflective engagement—one that holds space for the complexity of queerness without attempting to define or resolve it.
Thinking about On Our Own Terms and how it connects to the broader themes of my work, I realize this project isn’t about having answers—it’s about asking questions. What does it mean to connect on your own terms? How do you decide what to share and what to keep for yourself? And how do you hold space for something that feels uncertain or unfinished? These are questions I keep returning to, and I imagine I’ll be carrying them with me for a long time.
This essay—or even the project itself—is not an attempt to conclude these ideas. It captures a moment, reflecting where I stand now, while allowing space for thoughts and interpretations to continue evolving. The work will shift—how I understand it, how others encounter it, and the meanings it might take on in different contexts. It would be naive of me to assume that my work exists outside the influence of time, cultural shifts, or the diversity of perspectives it may encounter. Rather than pinning it down to one fixed purpose or meaning, I want to let it exist as it is—unfinished, responsive, and open to change—not grand in its scope, but attentive to its place in an ongoing conversation.