Care in/as Resistance: Excess, Chorus, and Liminality in Sonia Boyce’s Feeling Her Way
Emily Collins
In the latest edition of Feminist Media Histories, the editors observe how the recent conceptual troubling of care has enabled feminist media histories to productively reconsider both our contemporary moment of mediated care and earlier enactments of care by different communities through media (Banner and Zeavin 2023). In imagining safe, inclusive, and interdependent spaces, artists working at the fulcrum of various media and social worlds have much to contribute, since maintaining a practice in neoliberal conditions amidst a “crisis of care” (Fraser 2016), means forging alternative ethics and aesthetic techniques that nurture sensitivities, relationalities, and resourcefulness (Millner and Coombs 2021). Using the case study of Sonia Boyce’s multi-media multi-sensory artwork at the 59th Venice Biennale, Feeling Her Way (2022) this paper examines the relationship between experimental approaches to sound, listening, and social practice art that amplify forgotten histories and marginalized voices, opening alternative possibilities and configurations at the nexus and mutual constitution of resistance and care. As the first Black female artist to represent the United Kingdom in Venice, and winner of the festival’s top prize, Boyce embodies a care practice that intimately and intently engages with resistance through an aesthetics of excess, the potentiality of the chorus, the politics of bearing witness, and the nourishing transgression of liminality.
Keywords: Sound, Listening, Resistance, Care, Worldbuilding
Recent scholarship in sound studies has shown that sound and listening are dynamic sites for producing alternative knowledge paradigms and disrupting dominant systems of power, narratives, and hegemonic epistemologies. However, much of the work on sound as a form of resistance and social justice commentary largely surrounds field recording-based practices, aural textures of protests, underground dance cultures, and musical lyrics. I take this opening as a starting point and impetus for positioning this paper at the intersection of sound and resistance in multi-media multi-sensory socially engaged art environments. At this location, I argue, practices of both resistance and care, within aesthetic contexts and beyond, emerge that affirm transformation, diversity, and disruption to the status quo.
I often think about what it means to “meaningfully resist.” The phrase invokes how care work is deeply entangled with and mutually constitutive in processes and practices of resistance; to extend and enact care in our contemporary moment means to unsettle and oppose traditional paradigms and dominant modalities where care work is regularly rendered invisible, undervalued, and exploitative. Resistance and care take shape in expansive and intimate forms, and when registered through sound and listening – as modalities of affective, material, social, and political relations – can provide new insights, grammars, and epistemologies of 21st century communities of resistance and care. Artists, like Sonia Boyce in Feeling Her Way (2022), who engage with these sonic modes within the context of social practice art, where interdisciplinary collaboration and relationships are vital, are forging new spaces, opportunities, and notions of care, activism, collectivity, and protest.
Left: Sonia Boyce, artist commissioned by the British Council for the British Pavilion 2022 – Image credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Right: Boyce standing in room 5 at the British Pavilion, 2022, Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Contemporary thinking about care, which began in the articulation of gender’s effects on labor, politics, and ethics, has extended to ecological terrain – large-scale human and nonhuman processes, including economies, ecologies, and planetary systems – as well as media practice – in the multi-faceted relationship between creators and subjects and the work and its audiences. The much-quoted, early definition of care comes from Berenice Fischer and Joan Tronto (1993) who describes care as a species activity that includes "everything that we do to maintain, continue, and repair our ‘world’ so that we can live in it as well as possible” (19). This includes our bodies, our sentient selves, and our environments, all of which can be interwoven in an intricate life-sustaining web contingent on attentiveness, responsibility, competence, and responsiveness. Although grounded in this relational ontology of care-webs, María Puig de la Bellacasa (2017) pointedly departs from this characterization, shifting from the realm of the domestic to planetary scale systems. Bellacasa connects theories of care with posthumanist technoscience, naturecultures, and epistemology in thinking with care as a “critically disruptive doing” and a vital requisite of collective thinking in interdependent worlds that compels a thick vision of caring (12). Consequently, care, and its accompanying ontological relationality, labour practices, and knowledge politics is disruptive as well as transformative, concurrently necessitating and animating both theory and praxis.
The historical relationship between critique and care elucidates the conspicuous tension in the academy between theory and praxis that is subject to multiple and divergent contemporary re-imaginings. From bell hooks’ “theory as liberatory practice” (1991) to Bruno Latour’s “matters of concern” (2004), Bellacasa’s “matters of care” (2017), the Care Collective’s “care manifesto” (2020), and Fred Moten and Stefano Harney’s (2013) “undercommons” and “study,” praxis as care work, and vice versa, figures prominently. This manifests, particularly, through an emphasis on the outwardness of intellectual work, as it moves beyond and outside of academia, the self-reflexive, situated and collective pursuit of justice and critique, with attention to dynamic processes and historicizing, the differentiated materiality of knowing, and the commitment to the everydayness of both critique and care in their profound mundanity and consistency. Prior to these iterations, care ethics, radical love, and its healing potential when directed to the self, had long been theorized in Black feminist thought. Attending to these lineages, Sara Ahmed (2014) references Audre Lorde’s (1988) assertion that self-care is not about one’s own happiness but about finding a way to exist in a world where certain bodies were never meant to survive and thus whose very existence become forms of radical praxis. In the beloved oft-quoted line, “caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare,” Lorde compares her experience of battling cancer to her experience of battling against anti-black racism (181). This profound analogy demonstrates how racism is an attack on the body, on a deep and metabolic level, against the cells and immune system, where a world against you, turns your body against you. In seeking to remediate these attacks, redirecting care away from its “proper objects” to bodies deemed unworthy of care, self-care creates communities that “reassemble ourselves through the ordinary, everyday and often painstaking work of looking after ourselves; looking after each other” (Ahmed 2017, 240). It is an act of protest, a “technique of governance,” and a “turning away from injustice” (239). Inseparable to these perceptions are public and communal constituents – the assembly and interdependence of fragile communities, reconfiguring self-care beyond the individual and the threshold of indulgence.
Undoubtedly, the discursive explosion of care has seeped into creative practice and aesthetic discussions, generating insights about how care ethics are embodied and material while prompting us to rethink dominant approaches in contemporary art. If care is a triad of labour, ethics, and affect, the relationship to art is palpable, as a mode of work (artwork) that, in the context of sound, listening, social practice, and activist art, involves thinking about social, political, and cultural conditions through the engagement with material forms – bodies, artefacts, substances – and their ephemeral counterparts and practices – affect, sound, listening, and performance. In their careful engagement with the world and the singular ways in which this engagement is enacted and presented, artists and their artworks can entangle audiences in relations of care. As I will argue through the example of Boyce’s work , the spatial, temporal, and material design of an artwork, as well as its conceptual strategies and speculations, can reconfigure our relationship to the world and the way we engage with materialities, histories, voices, modes of listening, and space. Yet, an art object’s function and ability to be transformative – for the people it involves as medium and the audience that experience its presentation – is not a given. Rather, the potential to be transformative– to generate a more caring approach and engagement with the world– hinges on its capacity to evoke complexity, multiplicity, and relationality.
Carol Gilligan (2011) describes an ethics of care as a “different voice” joined with self-relation and emotion:
“an ethic grounded in voice and relationships, in the importance of everyone having a voice, being listened to carefully (in their own right and on their own terms) and heard with respect. An ethics of care directs our attention to the need for responsiveness in relationships (paying attention, listening, responding) and to the costs of losing connection with oneself or with others.”
Gilligan calls for an approach that is charged by relationality, agency, personal experiences, and the capacity to challenge power structures. Moreover,as Gilligan notes through sonic metaphors, this expansion can be undertaken specifically through the act of listening and the medium of sound. It is not coincidental that Gilligan draws on sound, listening, and voice in theorizing an ethics of care. Rather, it reflects Gilligan’s understanding that sound is relational and embodied, recognition of listening as a form of healing, meditation, and attentiveness, and an engagement with politics of voice as inextricably connected to the idea of subjectivity in the public and political sphere.
Sound scholars Julian Henriques (2011), Marie Thompson (2017), Annie Goh (2017), and Pedro J.S. Vieira de Oliveira (2020) discuss the politics of interconnection, reflexivity, and situatedness in sound and listening, embedded with potential to produce (alternative) knowledges and disrupt subject-object relations that are inherent and implied in these processes. Albeit in different ways, they argue that the experience of encountering sounds cannot be divorced from its political, social, and material conditions. Vieira de Oliveira (2020) explain
“the materiality of sound, or the relationship that emerges from these encounters, is not abstracted from the space in which it takes places, or in other words, sound is living and lived phenomenon. Hence the subject of listening which encounters and is affected by vibration, can only become so within a given space, a given context, a given set of political, economic, cultural, social, material, spiritual, and ontological conditions” (76).
Goh, Thompson, and Oliveira think sound as embodied situated practice, which underscores an orientation towards both sound and source, placing emphasis on the stories and narratives from which sounds sprout and sustain, ensuring that the webs of connection and historical relations are counted, and making explicit the listening body. Oliveira thinks with Edouard Glissant’s (1997) work on Relation to develop an approach towards sound art that should (and must) engage listeners in a process of Relation with the sonic object, enabling the emergence of otherwise aesthetic experiences, while at the same time weaving aural imaginaries that correlate to the sites and spaces of these sonic encounters. By attending to sonic events and phenomena at their sources, in whatever form or way this can be reached, as well as their recontextualization as phonographic object or performance, the multiplicity of meanings across aesthetics, affect, geographies, and space yields different materialities while never neglecting their political tensions and context. Oliveira’s argument thus posits sound art as a privileged form of articulation that is attuned to political and social matter, suggesting that it is through the liminal spaces within these encounters that its materiality and relational qualities are brought to the fore. In what follows, I hope to demonstrate how Sonia Boyce’s work is a form of sonic articulation that does not divorce sound from context and meaning and in turn is attuned to the aesthetic, political, and social matter of sonic events. By focusing on Boyce’s use of excess, polyphony, chorus, bearing witness, and liminality, I aim to prove how these strategies might advance new critical perspectives and cultural entanglements of sonic resistance and care in contemporary artwork.
Left: Room 1 in the British Pavilion featuring four performers - Errollyn Wallen, Tanita Tikaram, Poppy Ajudha, Jacqui Dankworth – 2022 – Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Right: Room 2 in the British Pavilion featuring performer Jacqui Dankworth – 2022 – Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Emma Ridgeway (2022), curator of last year’s United Kingdom pavilion at the Venice Biennale, describes Feeling Her Way (2022) in various art historical distinctions: a site-specific installation, an expanded multi-media collage, and an unruly collection. These dynamic descriptions testify to Boyce’s abundant decades-long practice that has undergone numerous mutations and experiments in genre and form. Important to understanding the history of this site and the significance of the piece, Boyce is the first Black female artist to represent the United Kingdom and was awarded the top prize at the Biennale. Anchoring the installation is the Devotional Collection (1999-ongoing) – a living archive that evidences the cultural contribution of Black British female musicians to international culture and includes over 1000 items related to these performers, such as album covers, posters, and other ephemera. These items evoke notions of collective knowledge-building, counter-archival practices, and individual subjectivities knotted with public imagination. In the centerpiece, Boyce stages an experiential experiment in improvisation and vocalization through a series of shifting and evolving audio and video channels featuring five Black female musicians as they innovate, collaborate, and play with their voices, at times in harmony but more often in dissonance. On multiple screens, visitors watch these singers vocalize shrills, screams, murmurs, and humming, together with melodies and chants throughout several open rooms accompanied by gold embellishments, vibrant patchwork wallpaper, and glittery mosaic photographs from production day. Through typical museum wall didactics, we learn that the performances were recorded at Abbey Road Studios in London, famous for recording countless albums by many well-known internationally acclaimed musicians. In these performances, Boyce brings together five intergenerational singers, Poppy Ajudha, Jacqui Dankworth, Sofia Jernberg, Tania Tikaram, and the composer Errollyn Wallen. During the days of production, the singers were asked to respond to prompts by Wallen and the recorded footage from the sessions was cut and presented in the main room on separate screens, while extra, unguided, individual performances done later during the recording sessions, are on display on additional screens in separate adjoining rooms.
Both sites, the recording studio and the gallery, are recontextualized as public performance settings, exceeding their usual scope – a private recording space, which is not often video recorded and represented publicly, and the pavilion that is not acoustically designed for sound or listening. In this reconfiguration, the confidential, intimate, and sacred space of the recording studio is opened and offered to audiences and the gallery space becomes a setting to open one’s ear to this multisensory installation. Indeed, there is significance in the choice to site:Abbey Road Studios is known for its prestigious status in the history of Western music recording, for defining and expanding the possibilities of what a recording studio is and can be, however, within the constraints of Western, white, male endeavours. In situating in this space, Boyce usurps and reclaims it in the context of ia Black female led production, and an experiment grounded in improvisation and play. Within this process of recontextualization, the dynamics of their performance and the material space of the artwork are further recast in an aesthetics of excess – of their voices, language, and affect in one sense, and in the materiality of the ostentatious design with flashy inordinate wallpaper and geometric gold trimmings mounted in corners and as seating. Their patchwork arrangement emulates the simultaneity of sounds and the multi-textuality of music, but perhaps more pointedly, as a demonstration of the coexistence of difference. On these shiny gold surfaces, the visual and the aural reflect and diffract, rerouting each course of light waves and vibrations while altering audience perceptions of both. These gold structures are crafted to resemble the shape of pyrite, a mineral referred to as “fool’s gold” – a phrase used to signify the misconstrued value of something – and conspicuously used here to signify the shifting economies and perceptions of value. Ddespite its “proper’ worth – or, as described in the British Council Guidebook (2022), beautiful objects relegated to ‘other,’ the unique crystalline forms of pyrite raise questions about passing judgement by negative comparison. By elevating and amplifying pyrite and these women, cultural and aesthetic value is reassigned to both. Furthermore, illustrative of the oscillating vibrations of sound, the collage style of the wallpaper with intersecting triangles of pink, green, orange and gold imitate the uncontrollable, overflowing quality of sound, merging and overlaying across time and space. Visitors can see themselves reflected in these gold and colourful surfaces, an affordance both facilitating their own sense of immersion and making them aware of their presence as audience and witness. A key component of the installation, thus, is its immersive mechanism: spectators are present in this environment, and cast as self-reflexive subjects within the collective.
Left: Room 3 in the British Pavilion featuring performers Jacqui Dankworth and Sofia Jernberg – 2022 – Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Right: Room 3 in the British Pavilion featuring performers Jacqui Dankworth and Sofia Jernberg – 2022 – Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Jillian Hernandez (2020) argues that to “exceed is to trespass,” and moreover, that excess is abundance, possessing more than what is deemed essential. For Hernandez, excess, rather than connoting the negative, unnecessary, unproductive, or deviant qualities the neoliberal gaze endows, disrupts the systems of race, class, gender, and sexual normativity it seeks to maintain (11). An “aesthetics of excess,” Hernandez postulates, embraces excess where the social political order imposes austerity, determining who is entitled to luxuries as well as what those luxuries can be. To present one’s body this way is to make oneself hypervisible but without the necessity or commitment to gain legibility or legitimacy (11). Vocalizations in Feeling Her Way – playful, candid, intimate, and free of the impetus to make sense – subverts the expected social codes of performance and the interpersonal. In other words, Boyce, the singers, and the composer do not seek to justify their work by adhering to expectations of legibility or legitimacy, but vocalize, adorn, and collect in ways that make sense to their own practices of healing, remediation, and devotion. Boyce subverts any sense of predictability for the singers and the audiences who cannot foresee the next prompts or their successive vocal responses–a maneuver exemplified by the general lack of lyrics. The few words that are sung, prompted by Wallen, become conduits for affective vocal experimentation. They elongate and meditate on the words with snarls, growls, gasps, whines, and more, eliciting moments of frenzied mutual elation – together in excess and joy. Without language to guide their enunciations, the emphasis shifts to their affective relations and social dynamics. Meaning is inferred otherwise – in volume, pitch, tone, and duration which reflects their emotional landscapes and the collective imaginations of the group. They perform outside of oneself and otherwise in an act of rebellion, transformation, realization, and healing.
This freedom with sound – to experiment and express audaciously – is not contained within the constraints of the architecture, time, or space posing questions of what freedom can look and sound like. In this model, freedom takes account of our relationship to others and is part of a collective endeavour. Rehearsal is given eminence as opposed to a perfectly composed and performed musical piece. Fred Moten and Stefano Harney (2013) call rehearsal a form of “study,” that is, what you do with other people, like talking, walking, dancing, jamming, a kind of communal intellectual practice (110). Rehearsal, as an intellectual and bodily practice of improvisation, is in constant dialectical motion with others and the wider conditions and contexts through which it is formed and thus a mode of sociality that engenders emancipatory and marginal forms of shared knowledge formation. Freedom, rehearsal, and creative play all emerge as subversive modalities to disrupt social norms (gender, class, and genre), aesthetic expectation, and intervene in dominant hierarchies. In this context play particularly emerges as a mechanism to achieve freedom – two ideas often constrained by their discursive limits – freedom as a condition that is often conceptualized within political science or philosophical terms related to self-governance, rights, and liberation, and play as an activity relegated to childhood, simplicity, and naivety. But here, play enacts a becoming, shifting subjectivities, as the singers imagine themselves in new forms. For instance, Wallen, the composer, prompts, “Really strong, and don’t try and think about making a nice sound.” The singers are encouraged to shed conventional expectations and transport their voices from familiar territory. They are also asked to mimic or evoke a massive lion and then a situation demanding urgency and volume, “Imagine you’re trapped! Run, run, run, run, run, run, run!” In a softer tempo, Wallen asks them to repeat, and sing, “I am queen,” the most conspicuous of their enunciations that breeds the most divergence. Their responses are vociferous and guttural, emanating from deep within each singer. For women to be performing this way is especially disruptive and unsettling – to publicly vocalize without compliance to conventions of language and music, and without the aspiration to pronounce narrative, accentuate subtly, or appeal to the spirit of the audience earning empathy, hopefulness, exuberance, or joy.
Both the aural and visual constituents of the piece denote and sustain difference amongst the singers despite the shared elements of their identities. In listening, we learn that the musicians Boyce invited to participate in the exhibit have distinctive musical styles. across the different monitors that feature each singer, in the main space and in the smaller adjoining gallery rooms, each singer is represented in a filtered differentiated coloured wash. Poppy Ajudha is in blue, Jacqui Dankworth in purple, Sofia Jernberg in orange, Tania Tikaram in red, and Errollyn Wallen, the composer, in yellow green. These visual cues work to emphasize their diverse vocal interpretations. Their freedom emanates from their polyphonic vocalities in harmony without complete uniformity, or in other words, a form of counterpoint – musical lines or voices that are harmonically interdependent yet independent in rhythm and melodic contour.
Theories of polyphony within music and literature also elicit conducive frameworks for considering the structure of this work. Mikhail Bakhtin’s (1981) notion of polyphony invokes the plurality of independent and unmerged voices which grants agency and validity to their diversity and simultaneity. While Bakhtin uses the term in the context of literary writing to liberate the voices of the characters from straight dictation and authorial expression, it aligns with the conceptual approach invoked here, wherein different bodies and voices are empowered in service of an overshadowing narratorial presence. However, as Bahktin posts, the author’s creative conceptionwhich is invariably based on a central theme or idea, fundamentally catalyzes the polyphony and dialogism. While difference is given value instead of being suppressed, accounting for a variety of pluralities and identities that form collective expression, the dialogic relationship is between and through the author, composer, or, in this case, artist. In the context of Boyce’s installation, where the singularity of each vocalist is deliberately emphasized through in the colour-washed filters and visual representations, their difference is not flattened but maintained.
Left: Room 4 in the British Pavilion featuring the Devotional Collection - 2022 - Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Right: Room 5 in the British Pavilion featuring performer Poppy Ajudha - Image Credit– Cristiano Corte © British Council
Centring multi-vocality is therefore a central aspect of the exhibition. However, there is also the consideration of the arrangement as a chorus – a body of organized singers, as opposed to a single performance. Although referencing the line in dance numbers, Saidiya Hartman (2019) celebrates the chorus as an articulation of living free, “an arrangement of the body to elude capture, an effort to make the uninhabitable livable” (265). Being in chorus encompasses much more than the composition or choreography. It is always relational. It is a practice of movement even though there is nowhere to go, a “dance within an enclosure” she says, turning it into an artform and a radical form of living otherwise (347). Hartman states, “The chorus is the vehicle for another kind of story, not of the great man or tragic hero, but one in which all modalities play a part, where the headless group incites change, where mutual aid provides the resource for collective action, not leader and mass, where the untranslatable songs and seeming nonsense make good promise of revolution. The chorus propels transformation. It is an incubator of possibility, an assembly sustaining dreams otherwise” (347). Hartman’s perceptive insights communicate the capabilities and synergies of the collective, while creating and ensuring space for “all modalities” of “infinite variety” (210). There is both a joyous and a transgressive element in being together, unified but distinct. Indeed, Boyce’s work urges for more inclusive understandings of community, one that is vocally oriented and sonically approached where differences arise from within and are cultivated in the collective space that she constructs and allows to flourish. Sounding together, compared to sounding as one, becomes a means for unifying in the public and collective sphere. This encourages careful choreography among the singers, listening and responding to the composer and to each other, and the audiences, listening intently and conspicuously.
The delicate interplay between the individual and collective is crucial. Both the musicians and the audience members are invited to improvise, navigate, and negotiate their relationship to the piece. Movement between and through the spaces, the individuated performances through to the archive and back to the collective ensemble encourages visitors to likewise “find their way” through the space, within the rooms, amongst the screens, and geometric gold seats. Referring to herself (Boyce), the musicians, and potential audience members, the title gestures towards a letting go of expectations, following one’s instinct, as situations change, and working with others in iterative stages. Standing in front of the screens, watching, and listening to the singers’ performances, the audience becomes aware of the other sounds filling the space, from the other screens in the adjoining rooms. As the music bleeds from one room to the next, mixing and mingling, the uncontained voices stir questions of what it means to be in assembly, collectivity, and relationality outside of control, unity, or cohesion.
By centering the embodied voices and embeddedness of Black female musicians and allowing the audience to bear witness through the visualization of their interaction, Boyce participates in the complex process of rewriting, rereading, and re-sounding history. This approach invites consideration for what the recording of this performance affords, beyond mere accessibility and longevity. While listening is often linked to witnessing – a relationship that has a long history of entanglement with surveillance, testimony, and truth, here, the representation of their performance through images and screen serves as record of enactment and embodiment, where listening facilitates conceptualizations of alternative histories and futurities. Because of this visualization, Boyce enables audiences to clearly identify the singers (as Black women), the location of recording (in the historically renowned studio), and the unfolding process of the performance (in provocative and indeterminate cues from the composer), all of which have various political implications. In watching their hesitations and rumination, triggered by the call and response structure, we recognize that the singers draw from their lived experiences rather than their formal training or aesthetic expectations. Witnessing this unfolding, where their vulnerabilities and personalities push through, we come to better comprehend what was entrusted to Boyce to represent with sensitivity and care. Although Boyce moves from performance to representation, the efficacy or edge offered by performance versus representation is not lost. Since she employs specific strategies and conventions, including some from social practice art, the audience does not watch voyeuristically, liberated from accountability or implication (Goldman 2017). Rather, the audience’s conscious act of witnessing is punctuated in the seating arrangements and pyrite reflections where we become privileged witnesses to this spectacle of imagination and becoming. Derek Goldman (2017) explains how socially engaged art often foregrounds the knowledge of audience’s presence and act of witnessing, acknowledging that a substantive event has occurred in which all those present are implicated and potentially transformed. In this shift from spectating to witnessing, Feeling Her Way focalizes the politics of performance and the inherent relationality of bearing witness as a form of sharing, listening, co-existing, and connection.
This transference also incites a layering or doubling of encounter, interaction, and relation – first in the collaboration and arrangement of the singers in Abbey Road Studio and then, although mediated, in the exhibition space between the audience and the performances. Through this course of development, resoundingly depicted in the production stills embedded in wallpaper design and in the experimental nature of the performance, a gap persists – a liminal space. Somewhat of a central concept in performance studies, liminality is a term that stems from anthropology with reference to rites of passage, ritual, and the space between the sacred and the profane. Jon McKenzie (2001) notes that the liminal is often theorized as the middle phase, the in-between as one moves between states, and emerges into the next phase anew. The transgressive element within this framing, in the passage and mobility between boundaries and borders, is especially cogent. Reiterating the politics of bearing witness, in viewing this recontextualized polyphonic rehearsal, we observe the singers in a potentially liminal space of personal discovery, attunement, and becoming. If this artwork is as transformative as social practice art promises, then this staging serves as both record and conductor of liminality where both the singers and audiences are placed between two states of being: They inhabit the liminal sonically as the vocalizations foster a moment of (at)tuning – in-between unfamiliarity and awareness. For Vieira de Oliveira (2020), sound art itself is a liminal space between the “materiality of the sonic object and its aesthetic-relational qualities” (71). The process of situating sound art this way takes place at the borderlands, he argues, amongst sound, its histories, reproducibility, and recontextualization as an artwork, appeals to forms of sonic collectivism, taking into consideration the fluidity of the political, embodied, and lived materiality of the sonic. This idea manifests in Vieira de Oliveira’s thinking with Édouard Glissant’s concept of Relation, “a process of convergence that manifests itself inward, while concomitantly always reaching outward,” and a “liminal process that exists by and at the process of entering it, thus demanding that one eschews the desire to attain or to obtain a finished picture” (77). The singers’ vocalizations and the audience’s careful attuning involves this inward-outward convergence, forging a transitional space where the social and personal, self and other, converge. The liminal space – between performance and representation, singers and audience, author and reader, speech and text, fact and fiction, knowing and not knowing – has no fixed meanings or locations, but rather strives to complicate the middle, maintaining its complexity and uncertainty. It’s clear how the vulnerability of the liminal, delicately at the margins and borderlands, requires care, whether as a form of attention, slowness, protection, or balance.
Left: Room 6 in the British Pavilion featuring performer Tanita Tikaram, 2022 - Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
Right: Room 6 in the British Pavilion featuring performer Tanita Tirkaram, 2022 - Image Credit – Cristiano Corte © British Council
In this joint commemoration-celebration-collage, Boyce motivates us to consider how Black British female musicians are remembered and treated by the culture industry and its audiences. Attempting to mend the depths of structural cultural amnesia, the shrine-like homage of the Devotional Collection (1999-ongoing) includes artistic memorabilia, albums, singles, cassette tapes and CDs dating back to the mid-nineteenth century, by performers such as Polystyrene, Beverly Knight, Cleo Laine, and many others. While Boyce spearheads the historical research and archival labour of preserving and publicizing these historical musical talents, the project is sustained by the British public sending in their materials to Boyce who then returns it back to them, making this reconstruction a collective, ongoing endeavour. While this project is an exercise in collecting, preserving, and redistributing the knowledge fans and community members amass and retain, it is also a testament to the critical gap in knowledge of Black British female performers and a confrontation to this inattention. Both projects, the Devotional Collection and Feeling Her Way, emphasize the overlap and exchange between collective experience, differentiated labour, and embodied forms of care. Boyce’s approach to the issues of neglected and disregarded histories and epistemologies through an aesthetics of excess, assemblies of polyphony and chorus, the politics bearing witness, and the liminality of attunement demonstrates how these modes contribute to practices, discourses, and entanglements of resistance and care in contemporary artistic contexts. In awarding Boyce, the jury of the 59th Venice Biennale said of the installation, “Sonia Boyce proposes, consequently, another reading of histories through the sonic. In working collaboratively with other black women, she unpacks a plenitude of silenced stories.” Developing these expansive connections – through sound, listening, archival labour, and intimate collaboration – is a process of collective world-making rooted in care that challenges our conceptions of resistance and broadens the definition and scope of care work. Examining mediations of care for and by minoritized and racialized subjects helps reshape historical knowledge of media and our understanding of mediation as a strategy of resistance and care that crucially overlap within the collective networks that they seek to foster.
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Emily Collins is an interdisciplinary researcher, writer, educator, and PhD Candidate in Cinema and Media Studies at York University in Tkaronto (Toronto) whose work draws on sound studies, feminist theory, critical disability studies, and cultural theory to examine sonic social relations and materiality through entanglements of resistance and care within contemporary artworks and creative practices. Her writing has been published in the Journal of Visual Culture, Critical Inquiry, International Studies in Literature and Environment, the Journal of Electronic Resources Librarianship, and Sonic Scope: New Approaches to Audiovisual Culture. Her research has been supported by several scholarships and grants including a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council Doctoral Fellowship, an Ontario Graduate Scholarship, a MITACS Accelerate Fellowship, and a Susan Crocker and John Hunkin Scholarship in Fine Arts.