A Minor Spectacle

The performance exists only as long as the shutter is open. I am not documenting the play; I am intercepting the brief, trembling gap between the cue and the reaction. The gesture, rehearsed to the point of exhaustion, suddenly becomes foreign to the actor when faced with the lens.

The smallest movement becomes a manifesto. I frame only the hesitation. The performance is the thing that happens when the script is forgotten and the air in the room becomes heavier than the words.