“Some way, somehow, my ancestors made it across the Atlantic Ocean, and then they came back,” says Sierra Leonian-born, London-based artist Julianknxx, who pays tribute to the journey of these ancestors with his new visual poem, In Praise of Still Boys.

Opening with the warm tones of his mother’s voice telling the tale of the poet’s birth, the film then hears Julianknxx’s verse about the wonder of the krio people of Sierra Leone. “I came out holding the coil and it’s the same idea that there are things set against you but still you push through,” he says. “It’s a miracle for there to be krio in Sierra Leone, for them to have created a tribe that’s recognised by the rest of the country and for the majority of the country to speak krio, too.”

For Julianknxx, the origins of Freetown are profound. Founded in 1792 by diaspora Africans – the rebellious Maroons of Jamaica, Britain’s black poor and freed slaves from the USA – the first Sierra Leoneans reclaimed agency for their people. “You can’t talk about Freetown, or the krio people, without talking about the water. You have to talk about the Atlantic Ocean, the triangular trade route and the slave trade, and the relationship between the UK, the Americas and the Caribbean,” he says. “People ask why I’m so fixated on Freetown, but I’m not telling a west African story, I’m telling a global story – it’s a global history.”

Visually the film focusses on a group of Sierra Leonean boys – their brotherhood, their beauty and their home. “They all got credited and if I ever make money from it, they’ll get their share, too,” he asserts. The use of krio subtitles throughout, rather than English, ensures that the perspective remains all their own. “In Praise of Still Boys is made for these boys; it’s made for me when I was 15. Back then being in art spaces wasn’t a thing. I didn’t know I was going to be an artist. I only understood art from a western perspective,” he says.

“Now I want my kids to see my art and see that I can participate. When we’re speaking about history and our lives, we can talk and we can take up space and be valid. I made a film because of the need to centre myself and my own story. There’s an Emily Dickinson poem called, Tell All the Truth But Tell it Slant, well this is my own truth and I’m just telling it slant.”

The interdisciplinary poet moved to Gambia when he was nine after war forced his family to leave Sierra Leone, and as a teenager he made his way to the UK. So, as the film follows the boys through landscapes of sand and sea, they find magic in the childhood that Julianknxx could have had. “These boys aren’t necessarily wealthy but have the luxury of having the beach down the road. Life is hard but they have abundance.”

A lyrical work, meditating on change, fate and everyday enchantment, the film also draws on the relationship between black skin and the colour blue, and the significance of black in Sierra Leonean culture, where it represents the myriad associations of the Atlantic Ocean. “Natural light and the reflection of their bodies is just fascinating to me. With original black there is no definition - your skin colour reflects the sun, sea and earth. We were by the sea at twilight and their skin was blue black – it’s a natural colour for sapphire.”

In Praise of Still Boys represents part of a larger body of work which will be exhibited at London’s 180 Strand next spring and joined by a (Covid-19 permitting) one-man tour. Julianknxx was also selected for Jerwood Arts Apples and Snakes Poetry in Performance 2020 grant, which will find him further exploring unwritten histories. In addition, he’s working on a hush-hush exhibition named Black Corporeal.

Meantime we’ll leave you with the film’s accompanying poem:

In Praise of Still Boys

stɛdi bɔbɔ dɛn we fulɔp wit wata

dɔn tap na di klif tu lɔng fɔ lan
di kayn denja we wata de bring
dis bɔbɔ-dɛm de swim wit faya
angri fɔ nyu langwej

dɛn dɔn stɔdi dɛm bɔda
di "n dɛm we de ol dɛm
wan ples we di land mit di skay
na smɔl ples dɔn lɛf fɔ damej dɛn ni

dɛn dɔn dayve frɔm di rɔk
rayd di wev ɔf di tu-lɛg blu hɔs
bɔku we dɛn de fɔ ɛskep dis spɛl

di fɔs tɛm we a si di oshɔn
frɔm di plen i winda -
a wɔnda aw i bin ol
ɔl dɛn blak bɔdi-dɛm,
di skay, lɛk sɔn"n we nɔ go bɛtɛ.
dis nyu rod yaso, i mek
wi de kray. dis ples
mek wi wɔnda if Gɔd de,
"na una nɔmɔ, dɔn lɛf fɔ wi"

di sawnd ɔf day bɔd dɛm
di oshɔn, lɛk layt we krak
dayman dɛn de kɔle dɛn grev
ɔda des dɛm, a wɛr di blu fud
na mi sholda, ɛn think bɔku bɔku
bɔt we"n ɔda pipul dɛn wan fɔ si
drawn, ɛn dren di aydia fɔ si
we"n strɔgul luk lɛk
we we"n wi reli nid
na fɔ brith

In Praise of Still Boys (English)

Still boys filled with water

have lived on cliffs too long to learn
the dangers of what the waters bring
these boys swim with flames
hungry for new language

they’ve studied their borders
the things holding them
a place where the land comes into the sky
only few places left to bruise their knees

they dipped off the rock
rode the waves on two-legged blue horse
there are several ways to escape this spell

The first "me I saw the ocean
through the window of a plane –
I wondered how it could hold
all those past black bodies,
The sky, a futureless spectacle.
this new middle passage, moving us to sobbing. this place
a sacrament deferred, singing
“you are what’s left of us”

A hymn of dead doves
the ocean a cracked chandelier
where the dead praise their graves
Other days I wear the blue flood
on my shoulders, thinking too much
on things people would love to see
drowned, draining the idea to see
what struggling looks like
when all we needed
was breath.

Read our full interview with Julianknxx here

Words Miriam Bouteba

Visit Julianknxx

Published on 27/07/2020