Over the past year, poet, artist and filmmaker Julianknxx has been on quite the journey to create his first solo show at the Barbican, Chorus in Rememory of Flight, travelling 4,000 kilometres across Hamburg, Rotterdam, Antwerp, London, Marseille, Barcelona and Lisbon to mirror the even vaster distances travelled by his subjects and their ancestors.

Interviewing choirs, politicians, dancers and activists from Black communities across Europe, the Sierra Leonean artist sheds light on diasporic stories and their ties to choral verse. Taking its title from the work of author and researcher Lorna McDaniel, whose study of the Big Drum ritual of Carriacou explores references to ‘flight’ as a vehicle for diasporic communities to return to their homelands, spiritually if not physically, through music and dance, the exhibition showcases a series of films that mediate on the chorus as a vessel of resistance in the eradication of difference. Combined with Knox’s poetry, these visuals take audiences through an immersive spoken word experience. Speaking with Julianknxx below, the artist shares an insight into his creative process, reclaiming narratives and the intricate ties we all hold to our heritage.

Ella Joyce: Where did the initial idea for Chorus in Rememory of Flight come from?
Julianknxx: Chorus in Rememory of Flight can be traced back to a residency I undertook in Amsterdam in 2021 that culminated in a performance at Stedelijk Museum. This residency was made possible through a commission by WePresent. I created a film from that experience, which the Barbican got to see and from there, they extended their support by commissioning the film and extending the project to include more cities in Europe. 

EJ: What role does your personal heritage and your relationship to Sierra Leone play when creating?
J: Sierra Leone is a place where storytelling holds a central role in all aspects of life – from ceremonial events to family gatherings; these stories, brimming with life, depth, and emotion, are part of my identity. My pursuit of creating and finding language or images is a direct reflection of my West African heritage. Moving to England marked a significant shift in my life too. Adjusting to a new environment posed its challenges, and it was during these early years that I turned to poetry as a means to articulate my experiences and navigate the complexities of not entirely belonging and fitting in.

Our perception of the world is intricately tied to our personal experiences and backgrounds. Everything we’ve seen and lived through shapes our view of the world, which, in turn, informs how we observe it. In my work, these influences are paramount. I draw on multiple forms, such as music and poetry, as well as the everyday poetry of people’s conversations. I also look at the way we engage in discussions about the past, effectively creating a living archive within my creative process.

“Our perception of the world is intricately tied to our personal experiences and backgrounds.”

EJ: Your practice meditates on the idea of reclaiming history and changing narratives, how do you go about articulating these ideas through your work?
J: Poetry has long been one of my main mediums to break down these larger ideas – also, the language that we use back home in Sierra Leone. Using short forms or shorthand to express these thoughts. As I grow older, I find myself experimenting more, incorporating the practices of my grandparents and elders. They’d tell a story, break out into a song, into prayer, and then come back into the story. You also can’t think about global history without thinking about the global south. It is a place to think about the world and a constant site of return for me.

For the show at the Barbican, I drew from Toni Morrison’s thinking on re-memory too. She brilliantly dissects the distinction between “history versus memory, and memory versus memorylessness” emphasising the importance of recollecting and reassembling the fragments of our past, whether personal or collective. Her idea of re-memory informs my practice as a method of recounting our history through learning. I also love Lorna McDaniel’s book The Big Drum Ritual Of Carriacou: Praisesongs in Rememory of Flight, the title of my work is of course a nod to the subtitle of her book. Paule Marshall’s novel Praisesong For The Widow is also part of my model for diasporic scholarship.

EJ: What do you think makes music and choral song in particular such a relatable medium to express one’s self through, especially within migrant communities?
J: My exploration of the chorus as a means of resistance is deeply rooted in the experiences of the Black diaspora. I believe in some way we share a common chorus and a collective expression of our identity and struggles. In Chorus in Rememory of Flight, I explore how communal singing preserves traditions – like the choir in Marseille whose songs are based on traditional lullabies from the Comoro Islands – or how it provides solace and solidarity or may promote collective healing.

What’s truly remarkable is how this shared musical language serves as a way for us to come together, to unite and to collaborate. It’s a form of radical therapy, a powerful means of healing that happens when we join our voices and spirits. Through this communal singing, we find strength and solace, creating a connection that is truly transformative. To quote Tina Campt, the chorus “is a complex and delicate balancing act.”

“What’s truly remarkable is how this shared musical language serves as a way for us to come together, to unite and to collaborate. It’s a form of radical therapy…”

EJ: When visitors view these films and hear these stories for the first time, what is it you hope they feel?
J: My hope is that they are compelled to deeply engage, listen, and feel. Ultimately, I aspire for them to be inspired to keep going forward, to follow the light, both in a spiritual and literal sense within the exhibition. The ever-evolving world demands that we keep moving forward, to find new ways to hold space for each other along this journey.

EJ: Storytelling often arrives hand in hand with water within your work, can you tell us a little about the significance of this recurring motif?
J: Water, particularly the ocean, acts as a metaphor for history in my work – representing the deep currents of time and the interconnectedness of our collective past while also embodying the physical and emotional landscapes of Freetown and Sierra Leone’s coastlines. My film In Praise of Still Boys, currently exhibited at Tate Modern’s A World in Common, unfolds along the shores of Freetown, taking the form of a fluid oral history weaving images of young men in the Atlantic Ocean with traditional dance, Krio narration by my mother, and a poem reflecting on my early life.

These elements come together to explore the ocean not merely as a backdrop but as a central character, offering viewers a prism through which to experience the emotions and stories of the black and African diaspora in Europe.

Chorus in Rememory of Flight runs at The Barbican until 11th February 2024, more info here. For those unable to visit, the exhibition will also be available to view on WePresent, more info here.