Update & Goodbye
Happy new year!
Our new website is now up and running so we’ll no longer be posting on here. From now on you can find us at nsorommaglobal.org
Thanks!
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Discoholic 🪩

titsay
Sade Olutola
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cherry valley forever

pixel skylines

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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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Jules of Nature
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
dirt enthusiast

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One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
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@nsorommaglobal
Update & Goodbye
Happy new year!
Our new website is now up and running so we’ll no longer be posting on here. From now on you can find us at nsorommaglobal.org
Thanks!
Stimela | Hugh Masekela
Gambia West africa photography
The Liberation of Aunt Jemima: Cocktail | Betye Saar | 1973
from “Performance Studies” | Lara Mimosa Montes
Write something / worth performing / (something that offers nothing) like MAMI PAPI POW / the inner city’s / subjectivity speaking through the world’s last payphone >> if it rang / would you answer it / the call / to meet one another anywhere else (but here)? [. . .] Although I am of the world, I would not say I am presently in it, therefore, no; an identity that exists only in opposition to everything else, the news, history, el sueño de la lengua, is not sustainable / does not reveal itself / cannot be known / nor do the social deaths we rehearse / gold hoops for $6.99 / “stereotypical” / what leaks out >> coconut oil invective / lube / though we (exc)use it: the advice you gave, the chuleta I ate. Sadly, we displace our affections for one another / always onto someone less deserving / Dígame: how do we know / who we are? When there’s smoke / there’s the way certain bodies congregate / in the museum >> art / the smokescreen >> not sag- resistant / I hope / my doppelgänger drinks / Courvoisier (and not Crown) / to drown / out the way truth is (un)made through language // like “home;” a fiction so – irrelevant / so at home / I felt homesick >> if we could exchange this for something else (not something better / just something else) > we would >> be the wild grass / that comes after / the next ice age >> the life that comes after / we disappear. What you thought was authentic / (someone informs you) isn’t.
Moonlight | Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater
ars poetica | safia elhillo
i want when my mother says open the light not to pull
the new twang into my mouth not to celebrate
the final death of the accent to snarl turn on
mama turn on the light
i want instead to speak as i do when i read to my grandfather
when it is vulgar to parade the fluency i bought
with my mother language i want the old music back to thicken
my tongue & open my mouth & close the wound
the ocean made & a body is not a bah-dy is a boh-dy
is a sigh unfurled
& i do as my mother says i open my mouth & i
give body to each word i open the light i walk inside
Daisy Giles-U’u
Batuk, an African electronic collective using music to promote Pan-Africanism
Raft of Medusa : le retour de la vague | Alexis Peskine
Alexis Peskine opened “Raft of Medusa : le retour de la vague" on Monday evening, his first solo show in Senegal. The exhibit meditated on the intersections between borders, migration, and Blackness and featured both photography and nail art. Though it was hard to get any photographs of the exhibition because of the large turnout, we managed to get a few! Check them out below.
(Peskine’s friends are often the inspirations behind his work. Here are two of his friends who he modelled these two pieces after.)
Vocabulary | Safia Elhillo
fact:
the arabic word هواء /hawa/ means wind the arabic word هوى /hawa/ means love
test: [multiple choice]
abdelhalim said you left me holding wind in my hands or abdelhalim said you left me holding love in my hands
abdelhalim was left empty or abdelhalim was left full
fairouz said o wind take me to my country or fairouz said o love take me to my country
fairouz is looking for vehicle or fairouz is looking for fuel
oum kalthoum said where the winds stops her ships we stop ours or oum kalthoum said where love stops her ships we stop ours
oum kalthoum is stuck or oum kalthoum is home
HeadRaps | Latasha Alcindor
La cité dans le jour bleu | Dak’Art
La cité dans le jour bleu, the 12th edition of the Biennale de l’Art Contemporain Africain, Dak’Art, curated by Simon Njami, an independent lecturer, curator, and art critic, opened on May 3. The international exhibition, hosted on the captivating site of the former Palais de Justice, was conceptualized around “the magical power of enchantment”. The exhibit featured sixty-five artists whose work ranged from sculpture, to graffiti, to muli-media installations.
Below are some of the works from the international exhibition which caught our attention.
Alexis Peskine | Le Radeau de la Méduse (detail) | 2015
Alexis Peskine | Le Radeau de la Méduse (detail) | 2015
Alexis Peskine | Le Radeau de la Méduse (detail) | 2015
Folakunle Oshun | United Nations of Jollof | 2015
Folakunle Oshun | United Nations of Jollof (detail) | 2015
Billi Bidjocka | Last Supper: <<Do not take it, Do not eat it, this is not my body...>> (detail) 13 public performances and installations which take place in different events and cities of the world | 2016
Billi Bidjocka | Last Supper: <<Do not take it, Do not eat it, this is not my body...>> (detail) 13 public performances and installations which take place in different events and cities of the world | 2016
Kader Attia | Les rhizomes infinis de la révolution | 2016
Kader Attia | Les rhizomes infinis de la révolution (detail) | 2016
Fabrice Monteiro | (P)residant, This is not a Phoenix (detail) | 2016
Victor Ehikhamenor | The Prayer Room (detail) | 2016
Victor Ehikhamenor | The Prayer Room (detail) | 2016
Aïda Muluneh | Local Understanding, the World is Nine Collection | 2016
Aïda Muluneh | Local Understanding, the World is Nine Collection | 2016
Kwesi Abbensetts
Poem for Mrs. Fannie Lou Hamer | June Jordan
You used to say, “June? Honey when you come down here you supposed to stay with me. Where else?” Meanin home against the beer the shotguns and the point of view of whitemen don’ never see Black anybodies without some violent itch start up. The ones who said, “No Nigga’s Votin in This Town . . . lessen it be feet first to the booth” Then jailed you beat you brutal bloody/battered/beat you blue beyond the feeling of the terrible
And failed to stop you. Only God could but He wouldn’t stop you fortress from self- pity
Humble as a woman anywhere I remember finding you inside the laundromat in Ruleville lion spine relaxed/hell what’s the point to courage when you washin clothes?
But that took courage
just to sit there/target to the killers lookin for your singin face perspirey through the rinse and spin
and later you stood mighty in the door on James Street loud callin:
“BULLETS OR NO BULLETS! THE FOOD IS COOKED AN’ GETTIN COLD!”
We ate A family tremulous but fortified by turnips/okra/handpicked like the lilies
filled to the very living full one solid gospel (sanctified)
one gospel (peace)
one full Black lily luminescent in a homemade field
of love
Call for participation for the second edition of Chouftouhonna, an international feminist art festival in Tunis
Willian Santiago