


This essay investigates the different ways memory is articulated by contemporary writing and artworks that emerge from experiences of migration, exile, diaspora, and cultural hybridity. These productions express a creative resistance connected to narration and participation, while proposing alternative ways of opening the archive from the perspective of the voices and visions that are completely absent or pushed to the margins. For example, the encounters with the histories and the bodies evoked by Derek Walcott, as well as the innovative and trans-local languages proposed by the contemporary visual artists and lmmakers considered in this article, question the limits of historiography, multiculturalism, and institutional practices of archiving through lost traces and inappropriate objects.



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Cinéma & Cie. Film and Media Studies Journal
Unpacking History: Diasporic Voices and Visions
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2017-03-01
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Cinéma & Cie
Michaela Quadraro
2017/03/01
University of Naples ‘L’Orientale’
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Unpacking History: Diasporic Voices and Visions
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17
Unpacking History: Diasporic Voices and Visions
Michaela Quadraro, University of Naples ‘L’Orientale’




Abstract

   This essay investigates the different ways memory is articulated by contemporary
   writing and artworks that emerge from experiences of migration, exile,
   diaspora, and cultural hybridity. These productions express a creative resistance
   connected to narration and participation, while proposing alternative ways of
   opening the archive from the perspective of the voices and visions that are
   completely absent or pushed to the margins. For example, the encounters with
   the histories and the bodies evoked by Derek Walcott, as well as the innovative
   and trans-local languages proposed by the contemporary visual artists and
   filmmakers considered in this article, question the limits of historiography,
   multiculturalism, and institutional practices of archiving through lost traces
   and inappropriate objects.


     In reworking the archival material, I am calling attention to the holes, fissures,
  and fringes of history, and hence to the need of rereading historical events with the
  omitted, the neglected, the marginalized, the misclassified, or else with the absent,
  the ‘nonevent’, and the nonarchived. (Trinh T. Minh-ha, D-Passage. The Digital Way)

   This essay departs from the need to consider cultural displacements and
border crossings as an epistemological challenge with regard to global history
and modernity. In particular, this investigation analyses the different ways
memory is articulated by contemporary cultural productions linked to migration,
exile, diaspora, and transnationality. These subaltern narratives, emerging from
a contemporary context of artists and writers who live in the interstices between
cultures, give way to a fundamental rethinking of questions of memory and
belonging. This is to record the political, historical, and theoretic conjuncture of
the diasporic experience, because the emergent space and interpretive frame of
the diaspora is rooted not only in earlier imperial settlements and older structures
of power, but also in the experiences of minorities, border crossings and cultural
displacements. As Stuart Hall suggests, the idea of the diaspora questions the
notions of authenticity and the claims made for culturally homogeneous national
cultures and identities. Diaspora is where the politics of gender, class, and race
                                               Cinéma & Cie, vol. XVII, no. 28, Spring 2017
                                     Michaela Quadraro


form together a new, powerful and unstable articulation that does not provide
easy answers, but raises ‘new questions, which proliferate across older frames of
thought, social engagement and political activity’.1
   The voices and visions on/from the margins propose alternative ways of
memorializing and archiving the past, evidencing the multiple connections
between this past and the contemporary postcolonial configuration of the world.
This paper discusses the importance of opening the archive, in other words the
rereading of historical documents and records in the light of the memories that
are completely absent or put on the margins. This is the need to ‘unpack’ the
library, as Homi Bhabha would say, following a suggestion taken from Walter
Benjamin: the invitation to open the library, to participate in the disorder of the
books that are not placed on the shelves.2 Bhabha asks us to take part momentarily
in the tension between the poles of order and disorder, inspired by the figure of
the flâneur and his wandering in the world through the discovery of books and
cosmopolitan memories. In this way, we are led to an urgent question: what kind
of history is assigned to the order and classification of documents? Indeed, every
archive, in its architectural dimension, its organisation and divisions, is always
something of a cemetery, of a place where fragments of lives are preserved but
also placed in a tomb, concealed and set apart from the visible. Archives rest on
the burying of remains, on a sepulchre where, in the words of Achille Mbembe,
the historian and the archivist manipulate fragments in ‘an intimate relationship
with a world alive only by virtue of an initial event that is represented by the act of
dying.’3 Assigning the archives to a consecrated place of burial makes it possible
to unveil their undisputed authority because, since no existing archive has the
possibility to preserve an entire history, we are always confronted by a selection,
an assemblage of pieces that are put together in an illusion of coherence.


Opening the Boxes of the Archive

   Forms of the archive have been explored in several critical paradigms
engaging with fragmentation and non-neutrality, and with questions of power
and selection. In L’Archéologie du savoir Michel Foucault states that the archive
is neither an accumulation of documents nor a complex of institutions: it cannot
be defined in its totality, but only in fragments and levels that reveal why so
many realities cannot emerge.4 The question of the origin of the archive has


1
  Stuart Hall, ‘Avtar Brah’s Cartographies: Moment, Method, Meaning’, Feminist Review, 100
(2012), 27–38, p. 30.
2
  Homi Bhabha, ‘Unpacking my Library…Again’, in The Post-Colonial Question: Common Skies,
Divided Horizons, ed. by Iain Chambers and Lidia Curti (London and New York: Routledge,
1996), pp. 199–211.
3
  Achille Mbembe, ‘The Power of the Archive and its Limits’, in Refiguring the Archive, ed. by
Carolyn Hamilton and others (Dordrecht and Boston: Kluwer, 2002), pp. 19–27 (p. 25).
4
  Michel Foucault, The Archeology of Knowledge (London: Routledge, 1969).

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                      Unpacking History: Diasporic Voices and Visions


also been investigated by Jacques Derrida, who insists on the irrepressible
human drive for the archive, the interminable search for the origin, for a past
to preserve. In Mal d’archive (archive fever or illness) the Algerian philosopher
investigates the meaning of the word ‘archive’, coming from the Greek arkheion
that indicates the house of the archons, the superior magistrates who represented
the law and stored the official documents.5 The logic of the interpretation and
selection of the historical documents is necessary for a possible comprehension
of the archive, even if, according to Derrida, nothing is more troubling than
the concept contained in the word ‘archive’. Moreover, in the obsessive and
rigorous attempt to find the origin, psychoanalysis augments the control and the
oppression of the archive, the ‘place of consignment’, the division between an
inside and an outside. The drive to chase after the archive — the compulsive and
nostalgic desire for the place of absolute beginning — seems to be an inescapable
modality that prevents any reconfiguration. Consequently, how can we outline
any critical frame that re-imagines the paralysing pattern of the archive to include
unauthorised voices? How can the colonising force of the archive be diverted
from the preservation of only certain past memories and how can we begin to
concentrate on the imagination of a future archive, on the elaboration of archives
yet to come?
   The focus, here, is on the cultural conjuncture of diaspora and its relation
to creative practices, not so much to be read and interpreted as the objects of
a political and social analysis, but rather as the sites where previous statements
are unsettled. Keith Piper, a multi-media British artist, curator, researcher
and academic, born in 1960 to Caribbean parents, aesthetically develops the
condition of living in the interstices.6 His work appears in the historical and
cultural conjuncture of the diasporic experience, and calls into question the
notions of cultural authenticity and a stable national identity. It is Birmingham,
the city where Piper was brought up, that comes to be re-framed in the motif
of the journey, in the incessant movements between departure and return,
separation and belonging, that contribute to the constitution of transnational
global spaces. Moreover, it is the Birmingham Central Library, the place chosen
by Piper for a residency, that allows him to develop his interest in institutionalised
collections, in particular in the narratives of the archive, its physical architecture
and categorising mechanisms. In 2005 he produced the short video Ghosting the
Archive, as part of a bigger Arts Council project called Necessary Journeys. He
physically opened the boxes of the Birmingham City Archive and developed a
new work practice that reacts to the material he finds, reactivating the traces of
the stories that lie in the collection. In particular, he unpacked the boxes housed
in the so-called Dyche Collection, that consists of more than ten thousand
images, mostly unidentified, both proof prints and negatives, from the studios of


5
  Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1995).
6
  Keith Piper, Relocating the Remains (London: Institute of International Visual Arts, 1997).

                                                                                           33
                                       Michaela Quadraro


Ernest Dyche (1887–1973), a commercial portrait photographer who operated
in the suburbs of the inner area of Birmingham and became very popular within
the communities of migrants arriving from the Indian subcontinent, African
countries and Caribbean islands from the 1950s to 1970s.7
   Until its closure, the Dyche Studio provided a significant repository of British
history during a complicated phase of the creation of black Britain. In particular,
it produced countless portraits of members of those communities that were
circulated both in the United Kingdom and in the former colonies: images that
Piper found without names or other identifying elements. As Gen Doy points
out, these images took part in what could be called a ‘reverse immigration’: they
were indeed sent back to the Caribbean, India or Pakistan, to family members,
friends or for marriage arrangements and were also ‘lightened’, if necessary, in
order to move toward an ideal whiteness.8 In Ghosting the Archive the negative
plates, held by Piper in a white-gloved hand, are reframed one after the other
in the contemporary space of the Birmingham City Archive by a digital camera.
Each shutter click presents a different negative plate that, bearing a ghostly
presence, slowly morphs into something else: family groups, women with newly
born children, men seated on the chairs provided at Dyche Studio wearing
elegant outfits or work uniforms, new coats or borrowed ones. In other words,
the whole digital image of the Birmingham Central Library gradually morphs into
a negative one, while the negative plate in the centre of the frame progressively
changes: the light areas of the image on film become dark, while dark areas give
way to the light areas of the photograph. In this way, the original subjects of the
picture emerge from obscurity and have the chance to appear again within the
contemporary time-space.


Writing and Filming on/from the Borders

   Driven by the desire to interrupt the linearity of historiography, we are led
to the following questions: what happens to the act of archiving when the
theoretical composition includes the communities and the memories that have
been marginalised by a tradition that is primarily white and Euro-centric? What
is produced when conservative practices of archiving come to be unsettled by
interlaced and minor narratives generated within the shared social, cultural
and political complexity of the contemporary world? Arjun Appadurai
intervenes in the debate on the creative forms of acquisition of the other/
subaltern subjectivities. He evokes a possible reconfiguration of the archive by
the generations produced by globalisation and the transcultural experiences of
diaspora, hybridity and exile. The challenge lies in the imagination of an archiving


7
  This archive has also been extensively discussed in Tina M. Campt, Image Matters: Archive,
Photography and the African Diaspora in Europe (Durham: Duke University Press, 2012).
8
  Gen Doy, Black Visual Culture: Modernity and Postmodernity (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2000), p. 131.

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                        Unpacking History: Diasporic Voices and Visions


practice that, instead of looking back at the institutional sacredness of the past,
welcomes personal memoirs and libraries, family photos and recordings, and all
other records that are part of everyday life. This leads to the idea of the archive
as a project, an intervention, an anticipation of intentional collective memory,
an aspiration rather than a recollection.9 For migrants the archive is a ‘map’, an
on-going research tool (and not a pre-ordained place), a space where collective
memory offers an ethical basis for the construction of cultural identities in the
often unfavourable conditions of a new society. In the spirit of Michel Foucault,
Appadurai’s proposal offers us the opportunity to view the archive less as a
container and more as a socially produced project producing forms of everyday
intervention: ‘conscious sites of debate and desire’. In this sense, artistic practices
— documentaries, videos, audio-visual installations — play a crucial role in the
creation of new digital archives of migration. As an alternative, or in proximity
to official sites entrusted with preserving the past, their perspective critically
visualises unconventional appropriations of storage places and collections.
   We are thus forced to identify other buildings, other dwellings, where a
compelling challenge takes place, as happens in Ribka Sibhatu’s work and
life. She is a poet in flight from Eritrea as a political refugee, first to Ethiopia,
where she finishes school, then to France and Italy, where she studies at the
University of Rome; her poems, called auló, written both in Italian and Tigrinya,
describe the sad experiences of women she met while imprisoned in Eritrea.10
Her work further expands concepts of transnationalism and translingualism in
postcolonial literature, since her plurilingual writing develops her wish to cross
cultural and geographical borders. The auló, as oral poetry, is a means used by
Eritrean poets to adapt traditions to new socio-political contexts and different
modes of narration. Ribka manipulates the traditional literary genre of her own
culture and translates it into Italian, setting up a bridge between the history of
her country and that of contemporary Italy, the former coloniser of her people,
and currently her home.
   Finally, Ribka takes part in a collaborative project that includes the
documentary Auló: Roma Postcoloniale (2012), by Simone Brioni, Graziano
Chiscuzzu and Ermanno Guida, which presents Ribka’s physical presence on
the screen. At the centre of this visual narrative there are her body and her
oral poems, which have a specific focus on the current situation of migration
and colonial memory in Italy, and which expose the falseness of the idea that
colonialism was a positive experience. This is achieved through the emergence
of silenced stories, a revisitation of history, and a work on the toponym of Rome,
in order to express a new perspective of identity and cultural belonging. The
narrative is composed of fragments that follow Ribka’s steps in different areas of
Rome. Throughout the documentary she narrates her story, characterised by war,


9
  Arjun Appadurai, ‘Archive and Aspiration’, in Information Is Alive: Art and Theory on Archiving and
Retrieving Data, ed. by Joke Brouwer and Arjen Mulder (Rotterdam: NAI, 2003), pp. 14–25 (p. 16).
10
   Ribka Sibhatu, Auló! Auló! Auló! Poesie di nostalgia, d’esilio e d’amore (Rome: Kimerafilm, 2012).

                                                                                                  35
                                    Michaela Quadraro


suffering, and imprisonment, to her decision to finally move to Italy, because of
her familiarity with Italian culture and language, which goes back to the Italian
colonisation of those territories.
   In Ribka’s words, Italy has to come to terms with its colonial past, explored
in the documentary through the unquestioned presence of some of the main
monuments of the city, for instance Piazza dei Cinquecento, that commemorates
the so-called Italian martyrs, and the Vittoriano, that memorialises the unification
of Italy. Ribka’s geocritical approach explores the question of naming: the urban
space of Rome has different stories and traditions that Ribka comments through
her oral aulós that, as she recalls, were particularly used by Eritreans during Italian
occupation to resist and counter-act. The documentary Auló also highlights an
intersection of genres, a cultural proximity between documentary and poetry, as
well as a new space of migration, an act of writing on the borders.


A Perspective from the Sea

   In the poem The Sea is History (1979) the Caribbean poet Derek Walcott,
Nobel Laureate in 1992, highlights what is a central theme in almost every
genre in postcolonial writing, that is the need to recuperate a historical account
different from those imposed by the Western point of view. He opens with a
series of questions: ‘Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs? / Where
is your tribal memory? Sirs, / in that grey vault. The sea. The sea / has locked
them up. The sea is History’.11 Here, Walcott looks for History: the ‘overlapping
territories and intertwined histories’ (Edward W. Said), common to the men and
the women ‘who sank without tombs’, in other words the forced crossing of
slaves across the Atlantic during the so-called Middle Passage from Africa to the
Americas. The poet recuperates the slaves’ experience in terms of the Exodus,
linking those traumatic events with those of white Christian history. Furthermore,
in the poem, the sea surface becomes the site of slave history, where death and
diaspora replace monuments and martyrs, because colonialism is not only about
development and modernity, but in particular about exploitation and racism,
when an ‘entire race’s history has been altered, a way of life destroyed’.12
   The sea and slavery, together with the archive of Caribbean poetics, bring us
to an alternative route of configuring modernity, where terrestrial and territorial
coordinates always go adrift, as Iain Chambers would say.13 This is to interrupt
the linearity of History and the politics of the eye/I with a politics of listening and


11
   Derek Walcott, Selected Poems, ed. by Edward Baugh (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux,
2007), p. 137.
12
   Pramod K. Nayar, Postcolonial Literature: An Introduction (New Delhi: Pearson Longman,
2008), p. 58.
13
   Chambers, Mediterranean Crossings: The Politics of an Interrupted Modernity (Durham: Duke
University Press, 2008).

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                       Unpacking History: Diasporic Voices and Visions


reception. The encounters with bodies, histories and voices crossing the Atlantic
or the Mediterranean show that there are other ways of being in a multiple
modernity. Here, the status of borders is continually interrupted by migration
and an emerging sense of belonging that is irreducible to the terms of existing
citizenship. However, a perspective from the sea is not merely a metaphorical
caprice, rather it is a central modality of thinking about modernity. The sea,
considered as a site of stratification, human and cultural connections, reconfigures
the ways in which global history is framed. In this regard, we could refer to the
above-mentioned Chambers’ maritime criticism, according to which a ‘critical
mourning’ is necessary for the lives submerged under the waves of the sea, from
the Black Atlantic to today’s Black Mediterranean. Furthermore, this means
interrupting consolidated considerations of the sea as an extension of terrestrial
imperatives by proposing its centrality in the formation of planetary modernity
since 1500. This leads to a ‘new thalassology’, a cultural-historical framework
based on the idea that all bodies of water not only sustained trans-national
systems of trade, but also transformed human connections and the histories of
their surrounding shores, as highlighted by the two historians Peregrine Horden
and Nicholas Purcell.14 This is to record a traumatic history characterised by
diaspora, that more interestingly produces not so much a counter-narrative of
revenge and remorse, but rather a creative form of acquisition that deals with a
brutal past, while simultaneously looking forward the future.
   These questions contain an enormous lesson about the importance of the sea, a
lesson that is not one of emptiness or insignificance, compared to the land. Rather,
the sea has something stronger to say and makes the progressive and linear direction
of history absurd: with the sea, we can travel the horizon in multiple directions,
without proceeding from one point to the other.15 Similarly, the sea proposes an
alternative sense of the archive, one that is not based on the commemoration of the
ruins, a dead tyrant or a hero in the form of decay. For example, in the multi-screen
work WESTERN UNION: Small Boats (2007) by the Black British artist Isaac
Julien, the materiality of the images emerges through the bodies of the immigrants
who cross the Mediterranean: bodies that traverse the fluid space of the sea in
search of a better life. This is a postcolonial cartography that rethinks cultural places
such as the Mediterranean and takes a heterogeneous modernity into account.
WESTERN UNION: Small Boats proposes, indeed, a disturbing geography of the
intermediary space of the Mediterranean, crossed by the flux of human beings.
The mare nostrum comes to be a burial site that resonates with the Atlantic middle
passage: traumatic memories common to men and women and traces of the daily
experiences of migrants disorient the spectators’ expectations. Furthermore, in the
five screens that comprise Julien’s installation, the sea is not only a surface that


14
   Peregrine Horden and Nicholas Purcell, ‘The Mediterranean and “the New Thalassology”’,
American Historical Review, 111.3 (2006), 722–40.
15
   Walcott, Conversations with Derek Walcott, ed. by William Baer (Jackson: University Press of
Mississippi, 1996).

                                                                                            37
                                    Michaela Quadraro


permits movement and migration, but becomes a sea of memories that recalls the
‘intertwined histories and overlapping territories’ proposed by Edward W. Said in
his seminal work Culture and Imperialism.16
   The disturbing geography expressed by Julien’s installation is a meditation
on migration, certainly inspired by Paul Gilroy’s The Black Atlantic (1993), in
particular by the notion of ‘translocation’, the idea of continuous movements
that contaminate each other. Julien, the son of Caribbean immigrants in London,
conveys this chain of transits in his work and insists on the influential experiences of
geographic and political displacements, through the articulation of heterogeneous
spaces. Similarly, Roshini Kempadoo, born in Britain from Guyanese parents,
adopts a multidisciplinary perspective, working on photography, digital
installations, and writing all at the same time, in the specificity of her position
as a black woman.17 In her work, the traces of the colonial past become in the
present both the objects of a pragmatic and symbolic work and the conditions in
which these practices trigger hybrid forms of life, politics, culture and modernity.
Her research, which has always been engaged with experimentation, including
technological experimentation, puts into crisis every fixed categorisation. The
limits of historiography, multiculturalism and institutional practices of archiving
are registered through lost traces and inappropriate objects, in order to develop
the themes of the historical legacy of slavery and migration.
   In works such as Sweetness and Light (1995), Ghosting (2004) and endless
prospects (2004/5), digital technology becomes a tool to negotiate meanings:
photographs are manipulated and assembled to set up a visual map of suppressed
memories and ghostly presences from the former Caribbean colonies of the
British empire. The present resonates with the past, to highlight the fragmented
and diasporic experiences of Caribbean, African, Indian, and Black British
women and men. As Kempadoo states in an interview, her parents belong to
the so-called Windrush Generation, which refers to the name of the cruise ship
remembered for bringing a large group of post-war West Indian immigrants to
the United Kingdom in 1948. In her work she registers the limits of realism and
the endless possibility of manipulating the images with the computer:

        Moving out of the dark room and into digital photography I explored sampling
     and layering images. Working with new technology meant I could open up meanings,
     and create multiple and complex, directed meanings. The computer complemented a
     documentary convention in being able to manipulate the image.18

  It is, however, her multiscreen installation Arrival (2010), presented at
‘Photography and the Representation of African Migration’ at Point Sud,

16
   Edward W. Said, Culture and Imperialism (London: Vintage, 1994).
17
   Manuela Esposito, ‘Tales of Transit: “Crossing” in Andrea Levy, Roshini Kempadoo and Julie
Otsuka’, Anglistica, 17.1 (2013), 53–67.
18
   Nalini Mohabir, ‘An Interview with Roshini Kempadoo’, Ex Plus Ultra, 2 (2010), <http://
explusultra.wun.ac.uk/index.php/extra/test/13> [accessed September 2015].

38
                         Unpacking History: Diasporic Voices and Visions


Bamako, in Mali in February 2011, that directly explores the experience of
crossing by showing the interconnections between colonialism, slavery and
diaspora. Here, as an alternative to the mainstream media, the artist imagines
the experiences of migrants who cross the sea between the North-African coast
and Spain, in a desperate attempt to reach the fortress Europe. Footprints on
the beach, female faces, and African children overlap with images of modern
buildings and urban sceneries. Furthermore, past memories of crossings across
the Black Atlantic resonate with contemporary sea journeys of migrants looking
for a better life. As Bhabha insists, it is impossible to separate that past from
the present. They are not disconnected: the former is not a mere predecessor
of the latter. On the contrary, the past presents itself as a contingent, interstitial
and intermediate space that intervenes in the present, bringing newness with it.
Remembering cannot be a quiet and introspective recollection: ‘It is a painful
re-membering, a putting together of the dismembered past to make sense of the
trauma of the present.’19
   Memory, here, becomes a search for the traces left by old and new imperialist
strategies. This is particularly evident if we consider the experience of colonialism
and slavery not as a concluded chapter in global history, but as an intrinsic and
indelible part of the contemporary world. Although the great Empires of the past
have ended officially, Europe can be observed through a postcolonial lens that
unveils tensions and uneasy answers. Migratory movements and transcultural
differences continually interrogate issues such as cultural heritage and national
identity. People who have come from ex-colonies in search of a better life perform
a perpetual and concrete re-membering of the deep interconnection between the
former metropolitan centres of power and their disseminated peripheries.


Final Remarks

   A postcolonial poetics acknowledges multiple, often untranslatable, voices
and visions. It evokes, through the dissipation of a narrative reading of content,
a plurality of discourses and involves the reader/spectator in the formation of
meaning. The examples explored in this essay articulate a critical relationship
between the cultural representations and the sense of heritage and belonging,
offering the opportunity of a more problematic and stimulating vision of the
preservation of the European arts and history. The innovative languages of the
trans-local artworks realised by Piper, Julien and Kempadoo, as well as the
encounters with the histories and the bodies evoked by Walcott and Ribka,
provoke a different configuration of modernity, a liquid one, based on the
centrality of transits and the trauma of migration. Liquid modernity, the present
condition of the world, involves both the unmaking of Europe as a space of


19
     Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London and New York: Routledge, 1994), pp. xi-xii.

                                                                                           39
                                Michaela Quadraro


exemplarity, exception and privilege and the remaking of Europe as a space of
trans-cultural ferment, movements and transits. Challenging the consecrated
reverence of institutionalised archival practices and historical accounts, the
variety of works explored in this essay reminds us of the multiple diasporic
formations that inhabit the world and produce actual conditions of mutation and
circulation. Based on experiences of migration and dislocation, the critical voices
and visions highlighted here consider the role of creative resistance connected
with narration and participation, which may produce a wider and more flexible
sense of one’s own sense of belonging.




40
