Laurie Cameron
Ten years ago, in the Fall of 1993, Jason enrolled in my beginning dance class at Pomona College. I remember thinking, at the time, that he had such a wonderful, long-limbed body that might lend itself to dance, but assumed that, like most of his peers, he was there to fulfill an arts requirement.

One of the first creative assignments that we did was based on the concept of time - how we use it, and how we can manipulate the audience's sense of it. Students were asked to create two movement phrases - one using extreme slowness, and the other, extreme quickness. When Jason performed his two phrases, the world as I knew it instantly changed. We sat spellbound watching what seemed like an infinity of sustainment, outdone only by the urgency of his quick phrase, which jolted us out of our seats. I doubt that any of us will ever forget that perfect moment, where for us, time just stopped. We were watching an artist, and we all knew it.

Jason and I spent hours working together in the studio - playing, discovering, excavating, and reworking. I never tired of watching him move, and he never tired of trying new things. I am grateful for every moment we spent, and often thought that what I was watching was infinitely more interesting than much of what we dancegoers were paying a lot of money to see in the established theatres around the country.

Jason has now sailed into his own eternity of time. He is a dancing angel. He vanished so quickly, but his artistry is forever. - Laurie Cameron