Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short is an unscientific observation of other, filtered and demonstrated through self. Consequentially self is not only exploited, but amplified. Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too shorthas meaning and because there is meaning, there is love, death and everything that lives in between. Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short is a flashback, kind of. Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short – transitory in nature – is a dance, a poem, a self-help book, a live performance. Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short is about stealing and about being stolen from.

Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short was made by collecting colors in places and scenarios where color palettes are saturated and subdued, by the creation of over 50 drawings, by scores written to build ephemeral structures, by lying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling – wondering about the presence of text in the body. Is the embodiment of text movement or gesture? Does it really matter? Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short listens. Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short is a meditation on the presence of sound where space is available.

Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short descends from American suburbia and made from an obscured impulse, slathered in a desire to be seen. Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short was built in Bed-Stuy and Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too shorthas been created for the – coined term “downtown” – dance venue, for the gallery, for the museum, for the architecture and audience of the New York State Theater.

Empress, Empress fall down your skirt is too short is redundant, is conceptual, is corny, is ultimate.

Created and performed by Christine Elmo in collaboration with Maggie Jones. Lighting design by Kate Foster.

“Series of Deft Negotiations Involving Ill-Advised Attire” – Claudia La Rocco, New York Times

“She draws, she writes, she moves, and now – at the Chocolate Factory – she’s pointing her toes” – Gia Kourlas, Time Out New York