Abridged History of Polk County, Fl (Banana Lake)
(2025)
Photo by Kyle Stephen Dunn
Photo by Kyle Stephen Dunn
Photo by Kyle Stephen Dunn
Photo by Kyle Stephen Dunn
in this performance i consume two pounds of oranges as a ritualized, embodied act: ripping, sucking, and letting the citric acid run down my body and burn my skin. the collar and chains constrain me, forcing me to kneel as well as constricting my throat, making the act of swallowing a struggle of power and endurance. a black light exposes the juice and discarded peels in front of me. audio from saddle creek in florida, layered with human groans, echoes from behind me. as the performance continues and more juice spills, the smell of orange overwhelms the space. facing me from the opposite side of the room is a single chair, illuminated from behind by a dim spotlight.
in my work, i frame florida through its contradictions. the state’s fertility is inextricably tied to its destruction: oranges dry up from greening disease while phosphate mining destabilizes the land, opens sinkholes, and produces radioactive waste that the state now proposes to use in roads across polk county. the titular saddle creek embodies these contradictions as well. once a phosphate mine, later a nature reserve, and eventually a cruising spot, its layered history reflects the state-sanctioned violence inflicted on the land and the ways queer desire persists in spite of it.
the mining itself also directly shapes the fruit i consume-- less phosphate in the soil produces more acidic oranges, while phosphate-rich land yields softer, sweeter fruit with less citric acid. queer bodies, like the land, are policed, restricted, and left precarious under the state’s current fascist authority. the citric acid of the oranges, amplified by the stripped soils, becomes a physical echo of the state’s violence, chemically burning and corroding my skin. these actions materialize the ways queer oppression and ecology intersect under floridian structures of control.
“I make the body of Polk, and I make it bleed.
I make it burn, and drip, and squelch.
I make it rot.
Φωσφόρος είναι Εωσφόρος”
in my work, i frame florida through its contradictions. the state’s fertility is inextricably tied to its destruction: oranges dry up from greening disease while phosphate mining destabilizes the land, opens sinkholes, and produces radioactive waste that the state now proposes to use in roads across polk county. the titular saddle creek embodies these contradictions as well. once a phosphate mine, later a nature reserve, and eventually a cruising spot, its layered history reflects the state-sanctioned violence inflicted on the land and the ways queer desire persists in spite of it.
the mining itself also directly shapes the fruit i consume-- less phosphate in the soil produces more acidic oranges, while phosphate-rich land yields softer, sweeter fruit with less citric acid. queer bodies, like the land, are policed, restricted, and left precarious under the state’s current fascist authority. the citric acid of the oranges, amplified by the stripped soils, becomes a physical echo of the state’s violence, chemically burning and corroding my skin. these actions materialize the ways queer oppression and ecology intersect under floridian structures of control.
“I make the body of Polk, and I make it bleed.
I make it burn, and drip, and squelch.
I make it rot.
Φωσφόρος είναι Εωσφόρος”
Orange Pulp
(2025)
analyzing the connection between the groundwork set by the florida legislative investigative committee in the 1960s, and the destruction and disappearance of queer spaces in florida today
TBE
(2025)
Ursa Minor
(2022)
