Tukayote Helianthus: Unkillable
RECOVERY, EMOTION, DANCE, PHOTOS, AND TUNES.
NO ANESTHESIA. NO BULLSHIT.
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This Valentine’s Day almost swallowed me whole until I said fuck that and rewrote the story. After 26 years of centering the day around someone else, I chose myself. I walked the city hand-hearting strangers, giving away balloons, trolling grumpy men, and letting love move freely through me. No rushing. No fear. No performance. Just emotional sobriety, a calm nervous system, and a big, unapologetic heart shared with the world.
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Pure play downtown. A sober night dancing to Confusion. Improvised movement, loud bass, zero agenda. Just fun, presence, and creative freedom.
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I woke up anxious and didn’t run. I faced a trigger and didn’t spiral. Thirty-seven days sober in the hardest season of my life, I chose movement over meltdown and discipline over drama. This dance isn’t performance. It’s proof. Identity death cracked me open, and what came back is steadier, sharper, and done selling out.
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A full-length exposure-therapy photowalk down Cornwall Ave with a 40mm lens and no agenda.
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A feral meditation and interpretive dance about shadow, surrender, and radical love. “Devastate Me” is a vow to keep giving my heart—no armor, no regrets—even when it breaks.
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I’m living with an open heart and solid boundaries—and it feels really damn good. This piece is about choosing joy over fear, curiosity over conformity, and ethical connection over codependency. It explores relationship anarchy, sobriety, self-trust, and the subtle art of the Irish goodbye as a way of protecting peace, staying aligned, and keeping the people who pull the magic out of you.
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A 5.7-mile loop through Bellingham, chasing circles instead of destinations—abstract color, quiet focus, and the joy of noticing what’s been there all along.
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A black-and-white photo journey through the Tacoma glass museum with a very special woman I have loved for a very long time. We are reconnected and have a wonderful relationship.
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A black and white photowalk through downtown and the Bellingham waterfront, chasing lines, contrast, and quiet geometry.
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After four years of silence, I took my body back—at night, on a downtown parkade, dancing without permission or apology. This wasn’t nostalgia. This was recovery in motion. A declaration that joy, movement, and instinct get to live here again. Free as a fucking bird.
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