Sahelian Landscape (2024)
Inkjet, Watercolor and Masking Tape on Hanji Paper.
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I failed at doing nothing, it was good to fail, and now I'm enacting my failure. I lazily rewatched Irma Vep and there's a part where Maggie Cheung is talking to a journalist and the journalist is criticizing Rene Vidal's films as masturbatory, that they're only for him and not for the public, amd I thought about what I wanted and then I ended up reading PDFs and news about Africa, there was a coup yesterday in Niger, and this one's more important than all the other coups for the Western media because the U.S. has military interests in Niger because there's uranium in Niger, and then I read about Senegal, the opposition leader getting jailed, and the young men who are still attempting to make it to the Canary Islands and are still dying, and the thing about Africa is there are so many languages and so many ethnic groups that it makes India look like a homogenized country, I found a tweet asking why there aren't women from Togo on Twitter and the replies were full of people talking about how expensive data is in Togo, and there's a Quanny line "You ain't got no fucking guap, nigga you a bozo" and the Bozo are a people in Mali, on the Niger river, and there are more than 30 national languages in Benin and when I was in Bilbao, I walked past a group of African men and it sounded like they were speaking Wolof and I wondered how they got there. I read an Art Journal pdf from before I was born, on the global and local in relation to Said's Orientalism and art practices from different parts of the world, where Enwezor asks "And where exactly is home for these people? And where home has become unimaginable except in old, tattered black-and-white photographs, what set of imperatives within the nascent narratives of crossing, settling, dwelling, and transterritorialization do such immigrants conjure up to locate themselves in the new land and to stitch the unruly patterns of home? How do they accommodate the locations of departure and arrival?" and later on the street I saw a fake Gucci backpack that read: "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WHO ALL THIS FUTURE?" and in between those events I ate dinner and sat in the loudest silence and these Berber musicians were making their rounds through the streets it's like the showtime boys on the train but different but the same, I thought about the universality of this homelessness and I thought about what I want, realized what it is I want which is a sense of being at home, of course there's the Novalis "Philosophy is really homesickness — the desire to be everywhere at home" thing as I think about why art, why writing, why what I've done as the antidote towards this problem of homelessness, my parents responded to this homelessness by migrating and making a new home, in the process they ran away from so much and in the new home was a home where I could never be home and now I sit in Tangier, tired, exhausted, waiting for the next day of life, to search for home again