The Brooklyn Rail

NOV 2021

All Issues
NOV 2021 Issue
Critics Page

Tectonic plates meeting

They and them being We-Me.
They were sitting by the black chair, on the floor
There they were, with their legs stretched out and their marigold yellow shorts as consistent as the center of the fire that now sits next to this orange heart.
The oceanic dusk to dawn linked by white shells, spiraling white moons

“image omitted” abounds in the archive; no space for the data they contain. 

(avoiding capture) protection can be the form (to give it shape) coding opacity (putting things in roses) 

Weme commencing a score of compassion and wisdom.
Cords gathered and cut, arms extended for listening and...

Generational conversations that happen within and through histories of erasure

What are the terms of saying yes to this?
We-Me was not consented,
They are not an accident
Weme invited itself.
“This” was born inside it: 
Weme is the whole issue. 


We-me is a braid.

Weme crushing out together.


Braiding is already becoming, just a mode of generating a place to meet and fall into the entanglement of our twisted ethics. 


Languages are tectonic plates. La tierra es el límite. Sound is fire (y silencio agua).

The ethical complexity of a We is beyond the full grasp of any or all. 
Claiming any all explodes the ground. 

The ground is ritual and ritual has limits.

“São as pequenas práticas de vida que fazem com que coletividades atravessem perigos de morte. Não são os heróis” (Helena Vieira 2021)

Victoria Santa Cruz tells us that division is a consequence of not feeling the mechanics that govern us, of not connecting with the deep experience that is our everyday lives: when we don’t connect, we don’t integrate, we just divide and accumulate. Transformation, she suggests, over division, is where we find rhythm.
 (^ I want to sit and sleep and eat with that sentence for so long. No question, no division of the claim.)

If we do not connect to the rhythm, if we are not playing, singing, dancing, moving, acting in call-and-response; we do not just divide, but destroy. 
How do we sing, dance, move, act, call-in, respond-to, listen-with, inside this very action (writing).

Transformation, she suggests, over division, is where we find rhythm.

A matter of timing:          (I feel lost when there is no space for my time)


The healing process itself is a commitment. (Denise Ferreira da Silva, addressing Black poetics of ancestrality) 

A spectrum has two endpoints, always inferring whiteness.
Witness as cure is the white promise.
A false sense of everything.
i.e. being quiet is not the same as silence. 
All this is to say, we must listen to the unheard inside. In our every action. No one is spared from erasure. 
Then we get together, in our partial perception, bringing the territories that make up our bodies to a single place. i.e. this page: ejercicio de cuerpo-territorio (Lorena Cabnal).


What does it mean to swallow your silence?

The swirling matters of voice-sound refracted. Sound waves hit the folds of a vibrating door toward the outside and then bounce back down into the bodily depths, being left unheard.

Voice is a wave-particle/transitory-material insistence on being. 

When voice is cut        (muted)
it refracts down into the underground,
dwelling in the subterrain of the body. 

Waves mutating beyond language in the dank soil of the undergrammatical: a trans-becoming of pain and endurance, moaning in its voluptuous monstrosity. 

The throat is the faultline through which voice tresspasses, becoming an extension of the body.
Voice is always a production of trash    … Is always a libation (a touch).        Is always an alchemical pouring out… 
               excess, overflow, offering, swallowed by the earth or 

flushed into the sewage, dumped into the ocean, where sediments of memory are imprinted. If memory is matter then it cannot be destroyed, but transformed.

“You are contaminated / with our ancestrality / careful, you are contaminated, you are on indigenous land” Brisa Flow, Passado e Futuro Presentes, Free Abya Yala.

Past and future relationality are not inherently determinate, but rather becoming-ancient in an ongoing reconfiguration of enfolded contamination, within and through histories of erasure. 


Voices storytelling, practices of recall. 

[18/9/21, 10:48:00 PM] Ain I feel like I’m with y’all in spirit

We sing for our memories to rise in the evening and our acknowledgment to come in the morning, for our song transforms the dusk. The We is set in motion here (now you are it with Me). 

WeMe, a name: 🔥🧡💜🐚💙🐚💜🧡🔥
What does it mean? A dusk to dawn. Fire, orange/purple hearts, shells, blue like ocean, shell like trans, a palindrome of symbols, it begins and ends therefore in fire (remember? Is sound). It announces itself by its colors (a fanfare), rushing itself into the fore, as the presumed receiver of every photo and song sent out. (phone buzzes)

[12/18/20, 8:42:21 PM] Getting there
[12/18/20, 8:42:52 PM] For this beautiful setting of food & drink & ritual

[12/21/20, 9:24:35 AM] yes! we are a little gossip. a gathering of loves. gossip... origin meaning god-siblings.

‎[4/17/21, 11:21:31 AM] ‎image omitted
 [4/17/21, 11:21:38 AM] Tripping hazard

[4/23/21, 10:36:05 AM] I speculate the agent I’m about to face is a dyke
[4/25/21, 7:41:10 PM] What’s the bounce ppl?
[4/25/21, 7:41:15 PM] The vibe*

[5/4/21, 7:17:47 PM] WeMe
Ya’ll and e beyond cutie
And I am thankful a d grateful for each and all of you

[5/21/21, 8:32:29 PM] ❤️
[5/22/21, 11:31:25 AM] Magical beings, what’s the vibe?
[5/22/21, 11:38:50 AM] We’re calling
[5/22/21, 11:39:01 AM]  What are you calling?
[5/22/21, 3:40:34 PM] HEYYYYYY gangling ghosts!
[5/22/21, 3:41:20 PM]  SHALL WE GATHER TOMORROW EVENING? at Sy/ilvias Tearoom for a double screening?

[7/10/21, 10:42:33 PM] Ain 😍

[7/25/21, 5:48:33 PM] I used it for art
‎[7/25/21, 5:48:39 PM] ‎sticker omitted
‎[7/25/21, 5:48:51 PM] ‎sticker omitted
[7/25/21, 5:48:57 PM] Sounds liberating
‎[7/25/21, 5:49:05 PM] ‎image omitted
[7/25/21, 5:49:07 PM] 🔨 🌊🔥
[7/25/21, 5:49:23 PM] Wow!! It was enormous!!!
[7/25/21, 5:49:49 PM] Were there microphones?
[7/25/21, 5:58:36 PM] I love that piece

[7/27/21, 6:04:37 PM] An infinity of We-Me marriage for green card

Fuck all other conceptual art practices
[7/27/21, 7:51:29 PM] Lol
[7/27/21, 7:51:31 PM] Love
[7/27/21, 7:51:37 PM] It would be hot
[7/27/21, 7:51:48 PM] I love when conceptual art actually gets you rights.



Weme is a braid, a dancer, a folder, a sounder, an empress, crushing-out together.


The Brooklyn Rail

NOV 2021

All Issues