Important to note: That the person writing this review is doing so from the perspective of a
racialised (as black) and gendered (a woman) southern African positionality, recently
situated in the Nordics. Although sharing an affinity with aspects of the Afro-Nordic
experience(s), the interpretation/narrativising of Tahir’s ‘Dawn’ has been approached with a
sense of care(fulness) that wishes not to encroach, dispossess, erase or collapse any of the
socio-cultural specificity that may yet be legible to me. It is important to not only recognise
the convergences of BIPOC folks but also be alert to and respect the nuances in/of
circumstances, ways of being, knowing and the manners in which these are languaged and
articulated.
/
Upon entering the hazy expanse, there is a pull towards a droning sound. We draw closer to
the hooved deity atop its perch, engulfed by its inscribing mission. Intrigued, but some of us
humans dare not get too close unless we tempt a hoof to the face?
What does it signify to have a *Black (1) hooved body?
Sitting in a circle, watching them, watching Adam etching additions to a story still-in-the
making. A story which we as the audience will momentarily witness but will continue in our
absence.
I observe the generous length of time given for the audience to reflect on this opening
image of Tahir, who is kneeling on all fours, on one of three sloped-sheet-metal platforms
arranged across the room while *they (2) operate an engraving device. I soon realise that this
length of time is for those who may be slow at acknowledging and entering into the
significance of this scenic representation.
What does it mean to be seen/labouring in the perpetual fleeting light of dawn?
Glimpses of Tahir’s body obstructing and capturing the light will be an on-going motif. Never
fully lit yet far from disappearing in the lapses between *Skinfaxi and Hrímfaxi (3) .
Set against a looped soundscape of hooves arduously kicking against the ground, the first
sustained crawl Tahir takes on the diagonal establishes the monumental scale of time, by
which Skinfaxi and Hrímfaxi are bound to labour for eternity.
Are they beasts of burden or a celebrated workhorses?
Upon returning to the initial sloped-sheet-metal platform, Tahir, who I assume is now in the
role of Hrímfaxi, secures the straps connected to the chariot of Nótt (night), pulls the stars
closers with a series of delicate hand gestures in preparartion for nightfall.
Night time seems to be when play gets to happen (for Skinfaxi?), awash in the moonlight
that dances across the waves.
Shortly before rounding up the moon, Hrímfaxi forms the midnight dew with their saliva.
I notice that two out of three sheet-metal platforms remain untouched- there is no etching
on them. A clear sign that there is more re-claiming to be done, more assertions to come.
There is much making and world (re-)building to be done.
/
It is an estimable yet precarious venture to re-inscribe a history. Particularly in this
ambivalent context with often times (quietly) hostile conditions where *Blackness (4) and its
self-articulations and independent actualisations are seldom given their rightful
*allowances (5) .
Bio: Maipelo is a Botswana-born and South African-trained artist-researcher, educator and embodied practitioner. She holds a BA degree in Drama and Organisational Psychology as well, an MA degree in Choreography and Movement Research from Rhodes University. Maipelo currently serves as a doktorand (Phd) in Performative and
Media-based Practices at Stockholm University of the Arts where her research and
practice centre the perspectives, expressions, experiences, and knowings of Black-
southern-African women situated in the Nordics and Scandinavianess.