Take Me Where I Need To Go: On Portals, Ancestral Intelligence, and Black Continuums...

A smile spread slowly across my face in reflection. Only a few days earlier, I was with my mom at a store where she contemplated buying a reusable bag placed smartly at the checkout counter. I jokingly replied, “Girl, you do not need that. Your bags got bags, got bags.” We laughed because for many of us, it’s impossible not to conjure a mental image of that one cabinet or closet that is home to a cascading avalanche of bags.

Fast forward to my standing within the first portal of the installation, I felt immense gratitude for the opportunity to consider this simple, household item as a symbol of psychological and emotional excavation. The object itself boasts a certain levity, an enviable weightlessness. And yet, it stands to reflect all of that which might break us if we don’t take inventory of what we’re carrying. As Ms. Badu reminded us some 25 years ago, it’s important to pack light.

There is overwhelming beauty in the way that memories transport us back in time and simultaneously function as sites for generative reimagining. Within Afro diasporic communities, the capacity to cast forth visions of our future has always been intrinsically bound up with our acknowledgement of and reverence for the past. The presence and guiding hand of our ancestors cannot be overstated, nor underestimated, especially when it comes to considering new models of possibility. Like the constellations above us influence the way this life unfolds, we have inherited many maps, many blueprints, that might help shape our journey toward collective liberation.

In Portals: Traversing Black Continuums, which culminated following eight weeks of collaboration between Kendra J. Ross, Pia Monique Murray, and Ziedah Diata, the artists lay ample ground for this alchemy to unfold. Their collaborative project and multidisciplinary installation combines dance, sound, video, craft, and performance. Portals clears a pathway for ‘rememory,’ a term coined by Toni Morrison in Beloved that describes the distinct way experiences (especially traumatic ones) demand to be re-embodied and confronted rather than repressed. At the same time, their work sets the tone for envisioning on personal and communal scales.

Fully immersive in nature, the installation takes shape equally from the artists’ work and contributions from local students, community members, and audiences who shared stories, contributed to a community altar, and participated in workshops and conversations. Each of the artists facilitated workshops that lent themselves to the development of the installation, including workshops on dance and movement with Ross, candy mosaics crafting with Murray, and water-inspired mantra-creation with Diata.

This collective worldbuilding meant that my own initial step into the conceptual terrain of Portals was informed not only by my own experience, but also by every individual who encountered and engaged with the space with and before me. I knew immediately that the title of this work, particularly Traversing Black Continuums, was about more than curatorial or thematic framing; it extended into praxis. Every person in the room became active participants, literally traversing together through memories, stories, and sensations by way of material objects, artworks, and participatory prompts.

As I walked into the first portal of the installation, I was greeted by a regal and welcoming figure, performed by Asma Feyijinmi, adorned in a voluminous garment made of bags. I marveled at her and the echo on the wall behind her, which was also decorated with an array of bags of the brown paper variety, all etched with handwritten notes and sketches. The figure removed her outer garment and began a series of gathering motions, transferring different odd and ends and “stuff” into her bags, before pausing to pose the question, “What’s the stuff that I’m stuffing into my bag?”

Hurt. Anxiety. Dreams. Anger. Grief.

Then, myself and the rest of the guests received an invitation into this practice of unpacking our baggage. She asked, “What’s the stuff that you’ve been stuffing?”

A smile spread slowly across my face in reflection. Only a few days earlier, I was with my mom at a store where she contemplated buying a reusable bag placed smartly at the checkout counter. I jokingly replied, “Girl, you do not need that. Your bags got bags, got bags.” We laughed because for many of us, it’s impossible not to conjure a mental image of that one cabinet or closet that is home to a cascading avalanche of bags.

Fast forward to my standing within the first portal of the installation, I felt immense gratitude for the opportunity to consider this simple, household item as a symbol of psychological and emotional excavation. The object itself boasts a certain levity, an enviable weightlessness. And yet, it stands to reflect all of that which might break us if we don’t take inventory of what we’re carrying. As Ms. Badu reminded us some 25 years ago, it’s important to pack light.

As I transitioned into the next portal, I found myself surrounded by varying shades of blue. I watched as another performer, Jaimé Yawa Dzandu, began undulating her body, singing, “Water is a becoming. Move to my own rhythm… Remember we are vast. Remember we are pure. Remember we are healing. Remember we are free. Explore the depths of mystery, ‘cause water get no enemy…”

I let this mantra sink into my body. These words, recited with repetition and some variation, anchored me in my truth and expansiveness. It gave us all space to sit with the multitudes that we hold. For if I am a reflection of water, then surely I also have a perfect memory [1] . Surely, my body knows no bounds. Surely, I can curl up into epic waves and submerge everything in my wake, then still and become a tranquil resting place.

As we’re conditioned to rely increasingly on algorithms and analytics, pieces of our humanity seem to break off and fall away. Many contemporary technologies drive us further from ourselves, our communities, and from systems of care that have sustained us for centuries. Over time, as dominant societies have taught us to turn away from nature—or, in other words, to turn away from ourselves—we’ve mistakenly begun to believe that healing can begin as an external process. One of the most important things Portals does is to remind us that we hold the answers to the questions that many of us spend our whole lives asking. For all the ways that ancient knowledge systems can slip away from us, these artists help us remember the deep-seated power that exists within each of us, first individually, then collectively. They awaken a world of limitless possibility and intelligence that is ancestral, rather than artificial. Slowing down, paying attention to our personal and natural rhythms becomes a crucial practice of strengthening and resistance.

The last remaining portals in the installation orbit around two more seemingly quotidian objects, candy and mirrors. The first centered around candy, with furniture and decorative elements that reminded me of vignettes in my grandparent’s home. The burnt orange cloth draped over the coffee table, the sumptuous red couch, and of course, a dish of vibrantly hued candies. In a conversation with the artists, Ross shared that the concept for this installation was inspired largely by memories she had of connecting with her elders over candy. Particularly, she recognized that candy was often the vehicle through which important lessons were shared because it was something that kept her still long enough to listen and learn. I remembered similar experiences from my own childhood and began reflecting, again, on how items from our daily lives can function as tools of remembrance and portals to connection.

The concluding portal extends an opening to self reflection and discovery. Within this portion of the installation, with all of the surfaces completely covered in mirrors and reflective materials, it is nearly impossible not to face yourself. Past, present, and future you. I watched as the final figure, performed by Ross, looked intently at her own reflection before striking through the space with her movement, gliding and twirling and leaping. Eventually her gaze returned to the mirror, where she pondered why her view of herself looks different now from before. Her remarks become a meditation on growth, (un)certainty, and self assurance.

The transformative power of collective artmaking rests at the center of Portals. As a trio of longtime friends and neighbors who have collaborated in varying artistic capacities before, the kinship between Ross, Murray, and Diata fortifies the communal and spiritual backdrop of the project, reminding us of both our personal and our collective responsibilities to one another. Their work provides an opportunity for collective joy, pain, memories, and stories to coalesce, before ultimately transmuting into a force that will always carry us forward.