In February 2016, two artists paid $3,000 to travel on a cargo ship. Their goal was to retrace the routes of the transatlantic slave triangle from the United Kingdom to Ghana to Jamaica, and back. salt. is the lyrical rumination of that journey.
Selina Thompson has written the “story of my diaspora.” Her very existence is tethered to “a people swept up and scattered across the world.” She readily admits to her anger. A citizen of the United Kingdom, her vision of Europe is one that is awash in blood. A continent built on suffering, massacre and death.
Personal stories of racist experiences are used to introduce the person who will ultimately take this journey. Her grandmother’s remembrance of being the only black child in school is particularly nauseating. Over and over, she intones, “Europe pushes against me. I push back.”
Ms. Thompson and an unnamed filmmaker partnered on this adventure. On their ship were six white Italian officers and eighteen Filipino crew members. Communication was difficult but the recognizable word “nigger” comes up at the dinner table. There is no phone. No internet. No windows in their locked room. Thoughts will germinate.
A block of salt provides the visual and physical manifestation of her rage. The anger is directed toward everyone on the ship and then more broadly. Imperialism, racism and capitalism decide who matters. How do you crush centuries of history and the remaining crystals of hate still providing ample flavor to a morally undernourished human race?
Ms. Thompson’s sea journey takes her to Ghana. She visits the notorious Elmina Castle “where people went through the door of no return.” Built by the Portuguese in the latter stages of the 15th Century, the Dutch captured the fortress in 1637 and changed its purpose. The building fueled the ever-growing slave trade with the Caribbean and Brazil. What is it like being inside this facility as a descendant of slavery? It’s like “being inside a migraine.”
A question asked stuck in my head. “What should a site mourning the slaves look like?” The poetry used to express feelings in this story are touchingly rendered yet stay firmly planted on the edge of outrage. That balance is nicely handled by the unapologetically strong presence of Rochelle Rose. Dawn Walton’s direction is a successful blend of emotional mysticism and controlled expressions of disgust. Salt in the wounds, so to speak.
This show effectively raises concerns about the world today. “Black Lives Matter because black death isn’t over.” I expect the listening experience of this piece will be greatly varied depending on your personal development. We all see things from our individual filters. On the cargo ship, the Italians are considered white people. Stories from my immigrant relatives suggest that classification took some time. Admittedly, however, that took a lot less time than four hundred years of unconscionable oppression.
salt. is hard. salt. is necessary for life. salt. fuels our seas. salt. is an essential nutrient. salt. is highly recommended. I listened. I learned something. I felt something. I had admiration mixed with sadness and joy. Selina Thompson’s voice will be undoubtedly be heard through your personal lens. Hear! Hear!