When mental health and epistemic injustice meet in my throat, they become some kind of poetic habit (like the costume of priests). I performed this piece through the mouth in Ivry, bridging bad seeds and ladds. And then did it again to punctuate and witness in my own way the French Black Mental Health Month organised by Collectif Perspective at La Parole Errante in Montreuil…. all this before Covid 19 locked us down.
Still waiting for a recording….despite it being essentially a sound work, here are a few lines. A tribute to PTSS, post traumatic slave syndrome, a complex intergenerational and historical trauma, located surreptitiously, and now traceable according to epigeneticists, in mutations that take place at the molecular level. Lets see if and when the DSM-V committee, takes notice. That said, trauma in the new world has never precluded the creation of art in community.
still on the water
an atlantic winter storm holding close
ornate and immersed in a sleep