Artist/Author: André Stitt | Editor: Blair French | Reference: P4228 | ISBN: 978 1 920781 36 1 | Type: Publication
Over three days in August 2007 Cardiff-based performance artist André Stitt undertook a major ‘akshun’ work at Artspace. Utilizing Joseph Beuys’ famous “I Like America and America Likes Me (or ‘Coyote’)” performance of 1974 as a template through which a performative engagement with acts of arrival and the attendant trauma of colonialism could be developed, Stitt shared a caged-in area of the gallery with a dingo, exploring forms of possible connection between the human figure and dog. This book provides extensive documentation and critical reflection upon one of the most significant and sustained performance works undertaken in Sydney in recent years.
“Sadly, as people of color we experience discrimination everyday. It’s exhausting. And when it happens, we often question ourselves, thinking: Did that just happen? Am I being too sensitive? And when we can identify that it is discrimination and speak to it, we’re often questioned and others often don’t believe us or brush us off, calling us too sensitive or angry. The burden falls on us to prove that we are being discriminated against. This book is here for you to take detailed logs of your everyday aggressions so that you can show off your receipts–proof.” Aram Han Sifuentes
Artist/Author: M. NourbeSe Philip | Editor: Setaey Adamu Boateng | Reference: P4223 | ISBN: 978-0819571694 | Type: Publication
In November, 1781, the captain of the slave ship Zong ordered that some 150 Africans be murdered by drowning so that the ship’s owners could collect insurance monies. Relying entirely on the words of the legal decision Gregson v. Gilbert-the only extant public document related to the massacre of these African slaves-Zong! tells the story that cannot be told yet must be told. Equal parts song, moan, shout, oath, ululation, curse, and chant, Zong! excavates the legal text. Memory, history, and law collide and metamorphose into the poetics of the fragment. Through the innovative use of fugal and counterpointed repetition, Zong! becomes an anti-narrative lament that stretches the boundaries of the poetic form, haunting the spaces of forgetting and mourning the forgotten.