Your hands look cold. Are they clammy? She will always remember your go home touch. The antiseptic smell of the examination room, the buzzing lights above the examination table, the sharp crinkle of the white paper beneath her. Where you violated the borders of her humanity. Crossing lines, entering her for scientific proof. Like carbon dating the undocumented. You have your research photos, your Hottentot parade, your bush man in a zoo cage, your stolen cancer cells, your syphilis experiments. Foreign bodies in white lands are forbidden. White hands in foreign lands are science. Probing, peeling, scraping, hypothesizing, proving, professing, displaying, exporting, exploiting. Ethnography (as pornography.) Charts and measures and identities as boundaries. She does not belong here. Science says.
HOW CAN YOU OWN AN INVISIBLE LINE?
Tags: France, Congo, undocumented, detention center, immigration, violation, human rights, black body, female body, ethnography, exploitation, science experimentation, Ota Benga, Sarah Baartman, Henrietta Lacks, Tuskegee syphilis experiments, human display, female nipple, colonialism, 120 words, postcards from an artist,
DISLOCATE: POSTCARDS FROM AN ARTIST
Holla back, call and response, talking to the screen. April pens a series of postcards, poetic open letters, to the people, places and objects in a selection of this year’s films. These films have inhabited her dreams, salted her tears, stoked a hopeful anger. Art imitates life inspires art in this uninvited collaboration with the filmmakers, an exquisite corpse from film to word. Share on Facebook • Share on Twitter • Share on Google