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Issue 22.1 | Fall 2026 — Counterlistenings: Sound, Power, Resistance

We, rainbow serpent, slither beyond the quiet zone; Bass memory 0902

We, rainbow serpent, slither beyond the quiet zone, ink, watercolor, colored pencil on paper, 9in x 12in (23cm x 31cm)

We, rainbow serpent, slither beyond the quiet zone

buzz beneath feet
screen sound-blink
draft pulls
clothes leftward
inward, arrival
eastern parkway opens its mouth and does not close

train is a thing to go to and fro
train is also a thing to go to and to and to and to and to
a snake of infinity if you gaze at it so
i do not know when the time bending began
tho the flow of bodies in this loop felt ancestral
ashe

parade goes 
                       forward 
parade goes 
     backward and 
                                                  forward 
                         and backward and 
forward 
west indian day parade says it so

street and sea 
a place for 
we 
islands parade down the street 
islands sharing one sea 
eastern parkway for the west indies
just beyond the parade 
the quiet zone

power declared over sound space
silence (police) 
power declared over sound space 
sound (we) 
sound clash is a sound clash is a sound clash

counterlisten 

i pulse behind you 
i have always been this road 
if you must rest, pass through
if you seek more
return to me
go back underground and return

descend 
buzz beneath the feet 
bass memory 
held note released 
the parade boards

Bass memory 0902, ink on paper, 9in x 12in (23cm x 31cm)

Bass memory 0902

bass in bones on train on way home 
these bones drunk 
tree trunk 

core

sunlight kisses sweat
glitter dust pollen scales

one stop back 
two stops

core 

ride toward it as they rode away 
train is the fold 
time bends back on itself 
gives you more 
if you look at it so

chorus again 
costume shimmer
fluorescent light 
music leaks from phone 
bones sway 
eyes close
moving faintly
still on 
parkway 
still on 
parade is not over, rainbow serpent

090169 
090770 090671 090472 090373 090274 090175 090676 090577 090478 090379
090180 090781 090682 090583 090384 090285 090186 090787 090588 090489
090390 090291 090792 090693 090594 090495 090296 090197 090798 090699
090400 090301 090202 090103 090604 090505 090406 090307 090108 090709
090610 090511 090312 090213 090114 090715 090516 090417 090318 090219
… … 
090522 090423 090224 090125 
090726

Artist Statement 

Does land seek our ears? I offer mine. My hands scribe the encounter. This is the core inquiry of my Land Vocalization (2022–) series of which We, rainbow serpent, slither beyond the quiet zone (2026) and Bass memory 0902 (2026) are a part.

A crosspollinated practice of land listening, urban polyphony, and queered traveler’s diary, the drawings in this series are pulses transmitted from land to paper, a drop in the ocean of collective memory. I am interested in excavating drawing’s capacity for kinship with all life. Words enter to capture what the drawing knows but does not say. Together they reach toward an account the present has not yet made room for.

Beginning in motion, hand bouncing unsteady along a train’s slither. Bone conducts what the ear misses. Dashes mark bodies darting in and out of subway cars, words overheard. Birds overhead, lines trace the connections and separations between bodies, species, and communities. Pigeon looking for a place to rest, spike. I note the new metal partitions adorning subway turnstile. Sore back, leaning bench. Land speaks, life unfolds.

I work from within the mycelial understory of African artistic traditions where art is fundamentally woven into collective life, as interconnected and load-bearing as the fascial web beneath the skin, holding disparate parts in living relation. As the child of Ethiopian immigrants, raised between Addis Ababa and Silicon Valley, attuned to digital and capital ecosystems and their required displacement and extraction, I trace what forms of expression have endured our collective stewardship. My work probes into the friction between what has been taken, what persists, and new coexistences.

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