International Journal of Performance Arts and Digital

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ISSN: 1479-4713 (Print) 2040-0934 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rpdm20

Reterritorializing Haiti and the Dominican Republic

in Alanna Lockward’s online performance curation

Jeannine Murray-Román

To cite this article: Jeannine Murray-Román (2019) Reterritorializing Haiti and the Dominican
Republic in Alanna Lockward’s online performance curation, International Journal of Performance
Arts and Digital Media, 15:3, 264-282, DOI: 10.1080/14794713.2019.1669357

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/14794713.2019.1669357

Published online: 27 Sep 2019.

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INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA
2019, VOL. 15, NO. 3, 264–282
https://doi.org/10.1080/14794713.2019.1669357

SPECIAL ISSUE: RESEARCH ARTICLE

Reterritorializing Haiti and the Dominican Republic in Alanna

Lockward’s online performance curation
Jeannine Murray-Román
Department of Modern Languages and Linguistics, Florida State University

ABSTRACT KEYWORDS
Focusing on a multimedia digital performance art exhibit as curated Curation; decolonization of
by Dominican intellectual Alanna Lockward, this article considers Haiti and the Dominican
how the curation of performance on internet platforms interacts Republic; Google Hangouts;
with (trans-)national spaces through the digital representation and collective reading; Caribbean
studies; transnationalism
reorganization of those spaces. The multimedio features a
collective online performance of the mid-twentieth century
Dominican poet Jacques Renaud Viau using Google+ Hangouts,
which infuses Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican
Republic, with the poem’s invocations of transnational belonging.
This article analyzes questions of access and digital smoothness,
the performance of listening on the Google+ Hangouts platform,
and identification of performers’ locations in order to show how
the networked solidarity performed in the online collective
reading gestures towards a reterritorialization of contemporary
Haitian and Dominican geopolitics. Given twenty-first century
hyperterritorializations of Dominicanness, this curation of
performance art on the Internet resituates where Santo Domingo
is located with regards to its relationship to Haiti and its
imaginaries of national belonging.

In a conversation with Judy Hussie-Taylor about the role of the performing arts curator
within a museum, Ralph Lemon comments: ‘I suspect that the element [of space] is
really a key part of the curatorial job, you know, to ask, “What is the philosophy of this
thing that we’re containing?”’ (Hussie-Taylor and Lemon 2014, 113). The curatorial act gen-
erates a conceptual and material container that, when placed within or superimposed
onto the museum space in which the performance takes place, will interact in a transfor-
mational way with that space. Lemon’s definition of curation as managing the relationship
between philosophy and space through performance art articulates how Alanna Lock-
ward, a public intellectual from the Dominican Republic, creates a space for Haitian-
Dominican relations that emphasizes their history of mutual interdependence through
her online curation of performance artists in the dossier ‘Blesi Doub. Heridas Dobles.
Dual Wounds.’1 As a protest of twenty-first-century Dominican nationalism that rests on
anti-Haitian xenophobia, Lockward invited Haitian and Dominican artists and activists to
construct space together through a performance of Haitian-Dominican solidarity in a

CONTACT Jeannine Murray-Román jmurrayroman@fsu.edu Department of Modern Languages and Linguistics,

Florida State University
© 2019 Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 265

collective reading performed on Google+ Hangouts and recorded on Vimeo as part of the
online multimedia dossier (hereafter, ‘multimedia’). More than a matter of the logistical
practicalities of schedules and locations, convening readers on an Internet platform is a
purposeful mode of generating the container that superimposes Lockward’s philosophy
of Haitian-Dominican space onto its contemporaneous geo-political organization. In this
article, I analyze Lockward’s philosophy of curating performance art as an act of decoloni-
zation and the online collective reading as a manifestation of that philosophy. Lockward’s
performance curation on the Internet offers a model for the reterritorialization of colonized
spaces.
Lockward’s curation of the performance art in the multimedio ‘Blesi Doub. Heridas
Dobles. Dual Wounds’ gestures to a reterritorialization of Saint-Domingue that begins
with the collective invocation of historical solidarities. Saint-Domingue is Lockward’s
referent for the entire island. As a French version of the Hispanophone capital city,
she uses Saint-Domingue to emphasize the crossed colonial histories that need to be
continually healed in order to remake the island’s political space to reflect its history
of mutual interdependence and shared oppressions.2 Lockward assembled ‘Blesi
Doub. Heridas Dobles. Dual Wounds’ for an online journal of performance and politics
in the Americas, e-misférica. Lockward answered the 2015 special issue’s call of ‘Carib-
bean Rasanblaj,’ which the editor Gina Athena Ulysse defined as ‘the regrouping of
ideas, things, spirits,’ (2015) by demonstrating how the historical porousness of the
borders between Haiti and the Dominican Republic marks contemporary performance
artists. As such, the multimedio deploys one of Arjun Appadurai’s definitions of reterri-
torialization in which it identifies ‘the effort to create new localized residential commu-
nities that rest not on a national imaginary but only on an imaginary of local autonomy
or of resource sovereignty’ (1996, 345). Here, reterritorialization is not solely the state’s
blocking, entrapment, or cooptation of deterritorialization’s lines of flight. For rather than
aim towards new establishments, Lockward’s reterritorialization destabilizes borders and
national belongings by mapping a set of networked localities that trouble the certainty
of their location altogether.
Recognizing that, as Delaney suggests, ‘de-territorialization on one scale entails a re-ter-
ritorialization on another scale’ (2005, 16), throughout this article, I analyze Lockward’s
Internet curatorial work and its generation of a cyberspace container for a philosophy
of decolonization as reterritorializing work. The reterritorialization that I argue the multi-
medio engages is an effort to shift Dominican political discourses to respect the fact
that Haiti and the Dominican Republic have always shared the space of Saint-Domingue.
For while Lockward’s broader project was aimed at the decolonization of both nations
which she signals in the title ‘Dual Wounds,’ her framing essays are consumed with the
responsibility of Dominicans to address the injuries inflicted against Dominicans of
Haitian descent and Haitian migrant workers as part of twenty-first century Dominican
nationalist politics. In each of the artist sections, featuring image stills and videos docu-
menting the work of Eliú Almonte, Élodie Barthélémy, Teresa María Díaz Nerio, and
Barbara Prézeau-Stephenson, Lockward underlines their durational, healing elements
and how they collectively construct a new imaginary of Saint-Domingue. In the first
section however, the excerpts from the poetry of Jacques Renaud Viau, a mid-twentieth
century Dominican poet of Haitian descent, seem eerily contemporary in their contesta-
tion of any expression of exclusive hyperterritorialization. Moreover because there is no
266 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

extent audio or visual documentary record of the poet Viau Renaud’s work, as there is for
the other artists, it is up to Lockward and her colleagues to enact his poem as a perform-
ance in two online collective readings performed on Google+ Hangouts and uploaded
onto Vimeo. This article analyzes Viau’s thinking through its digitally-mediated perform-
ance by the collective Lockward assembles to read it aloud. I therefore begin the article
with an introduction to Lockward’s decolonial thinking and her curatorial work, then
analyze the online collective reading of the Viau through his poetics as well as how the
use of webcams and online platforms for the performance dislocates imaginaries of
Dominican nationalism. I conclude with a brief discussion of the importance of the aleatory
in this digital performance for Lockward’s reterritorialization of Saint-Domingue.

1. Lockward’s curation
Alanna Lockward (1961–2019) was a Santo Domingo-born Berlin-based public intellectual
whose work encompassed several careers, as a ballerina, journalist, poet-novelist, curator,
documentary filmmaker, political activist, and organizer. These various activities were all
sustained by her genius for working with other artists in a protective way, staging dialo-
gues between those artists along with scholars, and propelling future work by meticu-
lously documenting and analyzing those dialogues in articles, catalogs, and videos.
Lockward’s multi-faceted capacities and how she articulated them in concert are best
described with how RoseLee Goldberg in 2016 called ‘the curator of the future.’
the curator of the future will indeed be a fascinating hybrid: an art historian, producer, tech-
savvy intellectual, and innovative thinker who can work closely with artists in a number of
different mediums, who can situate the work in a historical continuum, and who can draw
on visual intelligence and practical training to create accessible and insightful platforms for
audiences across the globe (2016, np).

Like Goldberg’s ‘curator of the future,’ Lockward’s political commitments found their
articulation in multiple venues: her journalistic articles, curatorial work and exhibition
catalog essays, philosophical writing, and convening of conferences and symposia of
artists, scholars, and activists. In her curatorial work, she was especially invested in
creating boundary-crossing spaces: for example, ‘Pares & Nones: igualdad (in)visible’
(2007) was the first photography exhibition conceptualized to include Haitians and
Dominicans working in Saint-Domingue and its diasporas.3 Many of the texts demon-
strating the constancy of her commitments throughout the evolution of her projects
are collected in Un Haití Dominicano: Tatuajes fantasmas y narrativas bilaterales, a com-
pilation of her essays many of which were initially published in Listín Diario, El Nuevo
Herald, and Acento. These essays address six major topics that served as case studies
for her theoretical investments in Caribbean borders and border-crossings, colonial
legacies of racialization, as well as contemporary constructions of identity and
citizenship: Dominican sex workers in Haiti; the long-time mayor of Santo Domingo
José Francisco Peña Gómez, notable by dint of his Haitian heritage; Haitian politics;
art criticism; the border zone and the vulnerabilization of Haitian workers; and ‘Senten-
cia Constitucional 168/13,’ the judicial sentence known as la sentencia that, in 2013,
stripped an estimated 200,000 Dominicans of Haitian descent of their Dominican
citizenship. These investments marking her various projects were both wide-ranging
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 267

and consistent in weaving together Dominican politics with global diasporic histories
(Lockward 2014, 279).
The collection’s title plays on the register of official political terminology: ‘relaciones
bilaterales’ is primarily used in the realm of international affairs to indicate the involvement
of two parties, and given the topics at hand throughout the book, the phrase initially
signals a question of foreign policy between Haiti and the Dominican Republic. A second-
ary definition of bilateralism, the relation between the right and left sides of a body and
the body’s reliance on those two sides for its function, emerges as equally salient to the
collection due to Lockward’s emphasis on the corporeality of Haitian and Dominican sub-
jects moving through the island of Saint-Domingue. In Haiti Dominicano’s last essay, ‘La
herida doble de los Marassá en el imaginario artístico de Saint-Domingue,’4 Lockward
uses the denotations of corporeal interdependence in bilateralism to describe her own
self-identification:
Después de la Sentencia Constitucional 168/13, me he definido mí misma como una haitiana
epistémica y una dominicana en tránsito (2014, 289).5 After the constitutional ruling 168/13, I
have defined myself as an epistemic Haitian woman and a Dominican woman in transit. (my
translation)

The first part of her identity statement, ‘una haitiana epistémica,’ recognizes the debt
Dominicans owe to Haitian philosophical and spiritual traditions and speaks to how she
grounds her projects in Haitian formations of knowledge production, primarily drawing
from vodou and the social arrangements that are tied into it. Then, modifying her nation-
ality with the phrase ‘en tránsito,’ she draws attention to la sentencia by pointedly citing its
stipulation that any child born to ‘extranjeros en tránsito’ is not entitled to Dominican citi-
zenship. Lockward places herself in motion, rebuking a definition of Dominican roots that
would give her the privileges of differential citizenship and acknowledging with gratitude
the roots of Haitian sacred philosophy that have historically extended into the Dominican
Republic’s cultural formation.
This self-definition has a second interpretation. Being ‘in transit’ can also refer to
Lockward having settled in Berlin, therefore evoking a comparatively privileged cosmo-
politanism that also characterizes the project of the online collective reading: only
people of at least middle-class status would have reliable access to the resources of
electricity and networks in order to participate. Moreover, Lockward and the project’s
participants are precisely the diasporic Dominicans that the Dominican government
would wish to recruit into its definitions of nationalism.6 Instead, she denounces
Dominican anti-Haitian nationalism and the privileges it would confer to her by point-
ing to the prolific crossings and influences for which the Transnational Hispaniola Col-
lective has similarly aimed to make space in intellectual and scholarly realms, albeit
with different terminology: ‘Our definition of transnationalism […] emphasized that
cross border, crosslinguistic, and cross ethnic interactions have long characterized
relations between Dominicans and Haitians, but that governing elites and their suppor-
ters have purposefully denied their peoples this history’ (Mayes et al. 2013, 17). Lock-
ward chooses bilateralism, Saint-Domingue, and doubleness as the keywords to her
anchor her call for Dominican recognition of both nations’ mutual interdependence
through her curation of performance artists, their healing decolonial works, and the col-
lective invocation of Viau in the multimedio.
268 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

Most strongly associated with the visual arts, the curator can be linked to other roles
in the performing arts: presenters, dramaturgs, artistic directors (Ferdman 2014, 10). The
performance art curator specifically functions as a pivot between artists and audiences
by creating contexts that facilitate the viewing as well as the making of work (Frisch
2014, 48) and assumes the responsibilities of being an intermediary as a protective
interface between artists and institutions (Hussie-Taylor and Lemon 2014, 101). In this
sense, the role of the curator has morphed from primarily overseeing the care of art
objects to also facilitating a network of relationships. Lockward’s curatorial work is
guided by the desire to reorganize categories from the national to the bilateral as
the grounds for reterritorialization by creating a space for artists whose work intention-
ally and prolifically crosses over national boundaries by demonstrating movement
across or juxtaposition between the Haitian, the Dominican, and the diasporic. The
visual layout of the multimedio in e-misférica reflects this commitment in its documen-
tation of fifteen time-based performance art pieces by Jacques Renaud Viau, Eliú
Almonte, Élodie Barthélémy, Teresa María Díaz Nerio, and Barbara Prézeau-Stephenson.
Every artist section contains a row of three or four hotlinked thumbnail images, each of
which opens to the image gallery superimposed over the main page. For the poet Viau,
instead of a row of images, excerpts from his epic poem ‘Nada permanece como el
llanto’ are set into three long columns of text, each for a different language, Spanish,
English, and French. All of the sections end with a brief biography typeset as a horizon-
tal block running across the page to separate the artist sections. But even if the indi-
vidual biographies are a visual marker of separation between artists, the content of
those biographical notes emphasizes the connections between artists through their
shared commitment to representing the political and cultural histories that ground
Lockward’s understanding of Saint-Domingue.
The artists’ sections are framed by two of Lockward’s essays, ‘An Introduction: Blesi
Doub. Heridas Dobles. Dual Wounds’ at the beginning of the multimedio where Lock-
ward explicates how the multimedio ‘organiz[es] thought in the encounter with the
other and/or with objects (on display, for example)’ in a self-reflexive discussion, as
Jean-Paul Martinon defines the philosophy of the curatorial (2013, 5). The closing
essay, ‘Healing the Dual Wounds: Body Politics and/in Saint-Domingue,’ places the mul-
timedio’s four featured artists in the larger context of the visual and performance artis-
tic production of contemporary Saint-Domingue. In the multimedio, Lockward takes up
the rarely-exercised task of a digital collections curator to develop an online exhibi-
tion.7 She extends this role further by creating the new work of the online collective
reading in which to anchor the concept driving the exhibition. All together, the two
essays written by Lockward, the artists’ video and image gallery, and the collective
readings of Viau help contain and sustain what Lockward calls in the Introduction, ‘a
space for love and reconciliation between two Caribbean populations that share the
inexorable continuities of coloniality’ (Lockward 2015). The ‘Blesi Doub’ Lockward refer-
ences in the title are those dual colonial wounds as well as the ‘curative energy of per-
formance’ directed toward them. So if ‘the curator is one who envisions an intention
for the work and thus “places” the work in a specific historical and interdisciplinary
context,’ as Hill writes (qtd. in Ferdman 2014, 9), Lockward’s aim is also to place
works such that the context in which they exist can be reconfigured through the exhi-
bition itself (Figure 1).
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 269

Figure 1. Screencap of ‘’Nada permanece tanto como el llanto’ by Jacques Viau Renaud, Collective
Online Reading, Monday 16.02.2015’ (2:09).

2. Reading Viau against la sentencia

Lockward positions Viau as the first artist in the multimedio, using Viau’s person and
poetry as one example of how to reterritorialize Saint-Domingue. Viau was a hispano-
phone poet who, born to Haitian parents in Haiti, migrated to the Dominican Republic
at a very young age and died fighting against the 1965 United States invasion of the
Dominican Republic. The details of his biography, elaborated in the multimedio’s introduc-
tion and condensed to ‘Haitian-Dominican Martyr + Poet’ in the slide at the beginning of
the Google+ Hangouts collective reading, justify why he functions as a symbol of solidarity
between both nations. His poetry in its content and form reorganize Haitian-Dominican
relations, as Raj Chetty demonstrates in his reading of the conclusion to Viau’s posthu-
mously published poem, ‘Estoy tratando de hablaros de mi patria.’
Viau strove to reveal how the “esencias nacionales latentes” that Dominican literature needs to
seek after are not Dominican-specific, but instead span the entire island, unifying the struggles
facing “el pueblo” of Haiti and the Dominican Republic: “He querido hablaros de mi patria, / de
mis dos patrias, / de mi Isla / que ha mucho dividieron los hombres / allí donde se aparearon
para crear un río” (Chetty 2018, 63).8

Using anaphora to equate the three definitions of his country, Viau answers questions
as to whether the unnamed fatherland is Haiti or the Dominican Republic in the following
line where he replaces ‘my fatherland’ with ‘my two fatherlands,’ thereby potentially refer-
encing them both simultaneously. The possible bifurcation of his loyalty into dual belong-
ing is resolved in the last description where two separate nations are subsumed into the
single unit of ‘my Island.’ The layering of approaches to Haitian-Dominican relations that
place the Dominican Republic in necessary dialogue with Haiti is part of a legacy that
270 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

informs Lockward’s concept of the bilateralism between Haiti and the Dominican Republic:
an island that ‘must be two to be one,’ as she wrote in ‘Pares & Nones’ (2007, 83) and as a
single body that relies on the interdependence of its sides.
The poem that Lockward includes in ‘Blesi Doub. Heridas Dobles. Dual Wounds’ and
heralds as an ‘ancestral endowment of Jacques Viau Renaud as an eternal ally’ is Viau’s
eighteen-section epic poem, ‘Nada permanece tanto como el llanto,’ or ‘Nothing lingers
so long as the weeping,’ from which she excerpts the first two sections and includes
their translations into French and English. The first section evokes physical movement
across territories with two distinct implications: naturalizing travel in references to ‘nuestras
travesías’ or ‘our crossings,’ it assumes migration to be a consistent part of Saint-Domingue
life. But it also calls into question the reasoning for diasporic movement when the poem’s
speaker asks early on: ‘caminar … hacia dónde?’ or ‘walk … where to?’ In their performances
of the poem as part of the first collective reading on Google+ Hangouts (February 16, 2015),
Sophie Maríñez and Lockward emphasize Viau’s questions about the inadequacy of move-
ment set off by colonial conquests or their subsequent diasporas. Starting off the perform-
ance by reading in French, Maríñez pauses before asking, ‘marcher, vers où? pour quelle
raison?’ her face bobbing closer to the webcam as she leans forward to accent the question,
her torso weaving rhythmically back as she reads Viau’s longer two-line description of the
body in exilic motion, and jutting forward once more to intone, ‘pourquoi? vers où?’
making eye contact briefly before the light of the video fades out and her screen switches
over to Lockward, who takes over the reading in English. Whereas Maríñez had been backlit,
Lockward’s face is lit such that, her face angled and lowered to look at her text for the
majority of her reading, her right cheek glows warmly and her left side is in shadows
except for a pearl earring and white silk scarf that catch the light. She turns sharply to
face the screen straight on when asking Viau’s question translated into English, her brow
in a slight furrow and her voice’s pitch rising plaintively with each question: ‘Conquer
new continents, who tries to? Love new faces, who wants to?’
Throughout their readings, the participants’ gaze is necessarily divided between
looking at their script, seeing what their fellow-participants are all doing, making direct
eye contact with the webcam, and any passing distractions. The physical placement of
webcams is generally such that, in an Internet-facilitated multiparty video chat such as
Skype or Google+ Hangouts, the speaker can either look at the person on their screen
or sacrifice seeing their co-participants’ expressions in order to perform the appearance
of eye contact by directing their own gaze above the screen to look into the camera, a
miniature and unresponsive abyss at the top of the computer. Among the collective’s par-
ticipants, only Yacine Khelladi’s webcam is located off to the side so that we see more of
his seated body in profile. In her performance of Viau, Lockward does not perform connec-
tion by making eye contact with the webcam, but her eyes remain slightly lowered. The
video instead records the direction of her gaze: when she looks up in the middle of her
reading, she looks towards the bottom third of her monitor, where the faces of her co-par-
ticipants in Google+ Hangouts would be screenically located. At the moment of asking the
question, Lockward’s gaze appears to be seeking a connection with her co-participants,
seeking their confirming responsiveness to her reading through Viau’s recommitment
to their shared homeland.
For four seconds, Lockward’s image freezes as her voice continues on with the next
phrase, ‘It’s all been dragged through ditches’ (2:09-2:13). The technological loss of
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 271

bandwidth strength results in the extension of Lockward’s exchange with her co-partici-
pants as it appears in the digitized performance. The disconnected appearance of and rea-
lities of contact as it takes place in this moment characterizes digital performance on the
Google+ Hangout platform and more broadly in virtual meeting spaces facilitated by the
computer monitor camera: what looks like sustained engagement is suspended band-
width connection in the triangulation between speaker, listener, and camera.
My interpretation of the first two stanzas of Viau’s poem is fundamentally shaped by
Mariñez’s and Lockward’s performance. I interpret the speaker in Viau’s poem as
arguing against the instinct to flee the site of colonial violence because of Lockward’s
and Maríñez’s emphases in their performances, the concepts their voices underscore,
and Lockward’s insistence on locating the poem’s readers within a global network, as I
will discuss. The reality described in the poem is one of political dispersal. The participants
in the online collective reading are located all around the world, but they are also gathered
together to invoke Viau’s call to remain in the colonized island, not out of nihilist capitula-
tion but, as is intimated in the second section, to fight for its transformation. After detailing
the class violence against impoverished persons, identified as ‘el sumiso’ or ‘the meek’ and
‘el hombre combatido’ or ‘the attacked man,’ the second section ends with a call for unity
among the exploited and the canalization of that unity into a class war. Again, an impetus
for this revolt is the absence of a place of belonging for the meek man. For, to the question
‘dónde deposita su silencio?’ or ‘where does he lay down his silence?’ the answer reiterates
that only rejected and insecure spaces are available to him: ‘Se ha dictaminado que su
morada sea la sombra,’ or ‘it has been determined that his dwelling should be a
shadow.’ By linking the mourning for and revolt against how the land has been marked
by dispossession and exploitation, the poem calls out for the land’s decolonization – par-
ticularly in Lockward’s framing that uses a contemporary reading of Viau as the philosophi-
cal anchor for the multimedio’s curation of performance art for Saint-Domingue.
While Haitian-Dominican histories are much more complex than la sentencia, Lockward
articulates her bilateral identity claims and evocation of Viau as a response to the Domin-
ican Republic’s la sentencia. As such, it is useful to briefly remind us of the legal buildup to
Constitutional Sentence 168–13 and its consequences. As discussed earlier, la sentencia
modified the jus soli practice of Dominican citizenship based on the 1939 Migration Law
which had established ten days as the period defining a ‘foreigner in transit’ wherein a
child born to anyone who had been in residence longer than ten days would be eligible
for Dominican citizenship. The 2004 Migration Law effectively replaced the ‘in transit’
status with permanent undocumentation by creating a new category of ‘non-resident’
for migrants residing in the Dominican Republic for any length of time. Their children
born in the Dominican Republic would have no legal standing to apply for citizenship.
This change was cemented in Article 18 of the 2010 Constitution. After a legal challenge
to Article 18 in 2013, the judicial ruling by the constitutional court, TC 168-13, doubled
down on this law and made its reach retroactive to 1929, such that any migrant who
had been residing in the Dominican Republic since 1929 would be defined as having
been in transit. Therefore, any of their children and children’s children who had received
citizenship solely by dint of having been born on Dominican soil to people who had been
in residency longer than ten days would no longer be legally considered citizens. This
ruling, which technically converted approximately 200,000 Dominicans to stateless
persons, is la sentencia.9
272 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

This sequence of rulings and legal machinations implicitly recognizes the economic
need for a consistent population of migrant agricultural workers while rejecting the
capacity of this population to be fully integrated into the national body politic: if
Haitian migrants could never become immigrants who could eventually root themselves
into the Dominican Republic, then they and their generations of descendants would also
always be limited and vulnerable participants. Its purpose is widely understood as target-
ing Dominicans of Haitian descent and Haitians, thereby codifying anti-Haitian xenopho-
bia. As Jennifer Schoaff writes, citing Shaina Aber and Mary Small,
“the negative impacts are felt by all people who are somehow marked as Haitian, regardless of
whether they are recent migrants, third generation Dominicans or even black Dominicans
with no Haitian ancestry.” The desire for recognition by marginalized and disempowered
groups, then, includes a demand for acknowledgment of one’s distinctiveness both as an indi-
vidual and as a collectivity, which for Haitian descendants in the Dominican Republic is inti-
mately tied to transborder and transnational connections and historicities that valorize
Blackness. (2016, 70-71).

Responding to this context, the collective readings of Viau’s poem materialize a

space in the digital realm which is organized specifically around the valorization of
Blackness, Haitian philosophical practices, and the mutual interdependence of the
two nations as a corrective to the hyperterritorialization of Dominican citizenship in
its contemporary iteration. As such, the only-virtual existence of the multimedio’s
space underscores the fact that, in their current geopolitical configuration, there is
no recognition throughout Saint-Domingue of shared colonial damage as a central
motivation for repair. While the onus is on Dominicans to challenge anti-Haitian xeno-
phobia within the Dominican Republic with regards to la sentencia, the philosophy of
bilateralism that Lockward convenes virtually can have no geopolitical counterpart or
physical place without the radical political transformation of decolonization and econ-
omic redistribution in both nations.

3. (Dis)locating Santo Domingo

Lockward invited ten artists, scholars, activists to participate in two multilingual collective
readings of Viau that took place on Monday February 16 and Wednesday February 18,
2015. Staged on Google+ Hangouts, Lockward, Annie Fukushima, and Elena Quintarelli
coordinated and edited the readings into two videos, each approximately six and a half
minutes in length, which were then uploaded onto Vimeo and into the beginning of
the multimedio’s image gallery. In her curatorial role of inviting and presenting each of
the artists, Lockward insists on the multi-sited aspect of the reading, thereby locating
the invocation of decolonizing Saint-Domingue in a global network of solidarity and (dis)-
locating the Dominican capital city of Santo Domingo. Each time a new reader takes the
primary window of the video-chat, their name, practice, and locations are edited onto the
bottom of their screen and remain visible for the duration of their reading. These labels
function as do labels in a museum gallery or program notes, identifying the provenance
of the readers’ performances with official certainty.
Beyond the global reach of Dominicanness evoked by adding Santo Domingo to each
reader in the February 16 video, Lockward does not indicate whether the participants are
physically in Santo Domingo or elsewhere, or if Santo Domingo is their site of emigration
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 273

or immigration. In her labeling of the first video, Lockward both places the collective
reading within Santo Domingo and superimposes onto Santo Domingo her concept of
Saint-Domingue as inflected by multiple sites of belonging.
The sections of Viau’s poem that Lockward excerpts and has translated also never expli-
citly name the land it describes as Haiti, or the Dominican Republic, or Saint-Domingue.
However, the online collective reading, starting from its multi-sited location, elicits the
transnational foundations of Viau’s politics and aesthetics which, as Maríñez describes it:
‘in Viau’s work, languages, rhythms, and landscapes of the two countries go hand in
hand, come together, and alternate with one another in a dazzling back and forth’
(2018, 77, my translation).10 Lockward pins the collective reading to Santo Domingo.
Rather than use geolocation mapping’s precision, she identifies each reader as being in
two locations at once, thereby making the location and relationship of belonging to the
Dominican Republic unknowable. This dislocation of Santo Domingo while simultaneously
lifting Saint-Domingue out of Dominican hyperterritorialization is central to the multime-
dio. As Lorgia García-Peña discusses in her explication of the figure of the ‘dominicano
ausente,’ or referring to those who live in the diaspora as ‘absent dominicans,’ calling
attention to race and to the historical relationship with Haiti is often dismissed by Domin-
ican intellectuals because that attention is called out from abroad:
rhetoric popularized during the 1980s [that] proposed a view of the dominicanos ausentes as
corruptors of the ‘national essence’: criminals, drug addicts, and uneducated ‘powerful trash.’
This antimigrant rhetoric excluded those of us who did not live on the island, los dominicanos
ausentes, or more commonly Dominicanyorks, to protect the version of the nation that domi-
nated the twentieth-century nationalist discourse. (2016, 170–171)

By insisting on Santo Domingo as a site of enunciation and using Viau, a national hero
of the resistance to the U.S. occupation, as the source text for her denouncement of la sen-
tencia, Lockward guards against the attack that the race relations alluded to in the multi-
medio are not part of the ‘national essence’ or are solely an obsession of absent
Dominicans.
With each new reader’s location(s) appearing on the screen, their voicing aloud of Viau’s
evocations of being in transit and questions about how to challenge regimes of brutal
exploitation holds both Saint-Domingue as well as their global sites of enunciation
accountable to Viau’s call for that radical transformation. In this way, the online collective
readings of Viau participate in the tradition of reading marathons, the most famous of
which is Bloomsday which, by reading aloud James Joyce’s Ulysses in various sites through-
out Dublin on June 16, seeks to surface the Dublin that Leopold Bloom and Stephen
Dedalus would have traversed in 1904 from a fictional past experience into the readers’
and listeners’ contemporary experience. Sam Anderson writes sardonically about the
massive scholarly and tourist industry that orbits around Ulysses and its public readings.
Nevertheless, his comment that through the ‘Joycexperience,’ ‘Ulysses became not
exactly a novel but something else, either the 783-page footnote to a city or a book
that had subsumed that city as a footnote to itself’ (2004, 17) articulates the relationship
between a place and the poetic invocation of that same place that collective readings aim
to achieve.11 That is, the collective readings of Viau first bring into being his concept of
Dominican belonging in which a Haitian heritage is acknowledged and respected and
then layer it onto the physical reality of Santo Domingo.
274 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

Unlike Ulysses with Dublin, Lockward’s curation of Saint-Domingue through the collec-
tive reading of Viau does not take place in the streets, but is set in intimate locations that
change approximately every forty-five seconds, along with the reader’s language.12 The
virtual cyberspace from which this multi-sited version of Santo Domingo is composed
allows it to be visually saturated by multiple sets. In the first video, each reader is at
home. These range from Teresa María Díaz Nerio’s space in which a large bank of
windows reveals denuded trees and grey wintry sky to Yacine Khelladi’s cream-walled
home office where there is no apparent source of natural light. With each new reader, a
new visual representation of Santo Domingo fills the screen entirely (see Figure 2). As
Paula Alburquerque briefly discusses in her study of webcams in urban space as a tool
of surveillance and of the ‘cinematization of public space’ (2018, 14), the pervasive use
of webcams as part of chat systems has resulted in ‘personal relations that become
mediated to the point that they acquire an existence outside of the material world’
(2018, 17). I would argue that the mediated version of what is labeled Santo Domingo
aims to redefine the national imaginary from private spaces. The shared intimacy is
made public by screen-capturing Google+ Hangouts and then uploading it onto Vimeo.
In this, the online collective reading has a radically different relationship to place than
that of Ulysses and Dublin, where overlaying Joyce’s vision onto Dublin is a state-spon-
sored celebration. The private-made-public online-only version of Saint-Domingue as
Lockward curates it is, instead, a challenge to the state’s definitions of legitimate presence
and participation.
Lockward troubles the basis for who has the authority to define the nation assumed in
the category of ‘absent Dominicans’ by both ascribing to everyone in the first video a
Dominican presence and digitizing every participant’s body and voice so that their pres-
ence at a computer terminal is the only definite location. Their co-presence in the shared
performance is therefore based on ‘an experience of a shared but not necessarily single or
continuous, temporality’ to use Philip Auslander’s definition (2008, 111–2), precisely so
that the physical location of Santo Domingo can come into question through the digitiz-
ation. The effect of digitization, often coinciding with the soft two-tone chime alert of an
IM contact sounds in the background, is especially noticeable in the voice quality as each
reader’s voice, recorded through computer microphones of varying quality and acquiring
a tinny quality when streaming out of my computer’s speakers, takes on the mechanized
sound of auto-tuning at moments. Google+ Hangouts, which combines videochat with
Internet Messaging and Voice over Internet Protocol (VoIP), uses a 16-bit sample rate—
the same as a music CD (Toncar 2019)—and can therefore represent sufficient tones to
avoid the effect of the voice toggling between pitches as the tone veers to its nearest avail-
able whole number of digital representation. However, any network instability or a low
bandwidth overtaxed by a high load can interfere with the necessary sampling frequency
for high voice quality (Henderson 2017) and produce a kind of aural pixelation. That is, the
voice’s mechanized moments reveal the reader’s access to the Internet, a marker of either
one’s class or one’s location in an area that is underserved by Internet providers: in both
cases, one’s location on the wrong side of the digital divide. In describing Google+ Hang-
outs’ functionality, Vangie Beal states that its minimalist ‘face-to-face-to-face group inter-
action’ is meant to ‘switch seamlessly’ between participants (Beal 2019). The seamlessness
of the platform attempts to smooth over the intense roughness of the experiences of dis-
placement and the political circumstances that had prompted those displacements
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 275

Figure 2. Table of screencaps of each participant in both Online Collective Readings.

276 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

Figure 3. Screencap of ‘’Nada permanece tanto como el llanto’ by Jacques Viau Renaud, Collective
Online Reading, Wednesday 18.02.2015’ (5:57).

requiring the online networked connection to begin with. And yet, that smoothness is
audibly inaccessible to this group of people in virtual Saint-Domingue (Figure 3).

4. Performing collective listening

In the analysis of the second collective reading video as a last example of Lockward’s
online curation of performance, I want to return to the question that Lemon’s description
of performance curation opens up: What is the philosophy of the thing Lockward is con-
taining and how is it both shaped by and changing the shape of the space in which it is
held? The space of Google+ Hangouts is one of a ‘constricted interaction’ (Rosenbaun,
Rafaeli, and Kurzon 2016, 32). Because it automatically features the person out of the
group who is speaking, the platform’s format encourages the speaker to speak clearly
into the microphone, and position their torso and head directly in front of the computer
webcam, as opposed to moving in space further away from the computer, for example. As
a result, the gestural vocabularies visible in the screen are limited to facial micro-choreo-
graphies and seated postures that perform listening with a range of attentive care. The
second video, performed on February 18, 2015, includes the strip of thumbnails of all
the participants at the bottom of the screen, where, as Laura Rosenbaum describes it,
‘the common body orientation toward the monitor and webcam—the talking head
format—makes participants appear as conversationally available, even though they may
be opting for passive participation’ (Rosenbaun, Rafaeli, and Kurzon 2016, 30). As such,
the video documents both the readers’ giving voice to Viau and their fellow readers
responding, in their other role as the audience members.13
In theorizing the images generated by webcams in contrast to analog photography and
cinematography, J. Macgregor Wise describes the digital portraits as the ‘overwhelming
presence of the in-between, like all those photos with your eyes shut or in mid-sneeze,
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 277

or where someone moved, blurring their features, or moved partially out of frame’ (Wise
2004, 426). At some point during the six minutes, one if not more of the participants makes
one of the everyday gestures that Wise uses as examples: Altagracia Jean-Joseph and
Lockward squeeze their noses to prevent a sneeze or satisfy an itch, Maksaens Denis’s
and Lockward’s faces are off-center and primarily out of the screen’s frame, Miriam Nep-
tune’s connection flutters in and out at first such that her face is replaced by the anonymiz-
ing blue icon of a participant who is offline. But at other moments, the listening
participants can be seen in postures of concentration, particularly once they have
finished with their own reading. The flow of attention and distraction as it appears in
the row of participants’ performances of listening draws from the pedestrian nature of
webcam wherein one person would be going on about their daily lives while sharing
space with another person. In that sense, the online collective reading that features the
co-participants as audience can indicate the possibility of Viau’s ideas and calls for
action to be woven into daily life in an unspectacular and normalized way.
This video is, as Jennifer Buckley writes of live-streamed durational theatrical works,
‘both performance and documentation, quite literally, at once’ (Buckley 2016, 48). While
these videos were not live-streamed and what was uploaded onto Vimeo had been
edited, they do document the participants’ performance as both readers and audience
members.
In the changeover between Atlagracia Jean-Joseph’s reading and Maksaens Denis’s
reading of the last part of the excerpt, Denis and Prézeau-Stephenson are on the main
screen, listening, with Jean-Joseph’s name labeling them and her voice slows and drops
in tone for the last phrase of her excerpt: ‘no habrá paz sobre la tierra.’ Prézeau-Stephen-
son squints off to the side, Denis looks fixedly into the monitor, listening for the echo of her
voice to fade so as to turn to his script on his left and begin his reading. Neptune and
Oquet both have their heads tilted towards the box where Denis’s slot in the row of
thumbnails, framing his name like bookends and attending to the incipient change in
languages, reading rhythms, and setting. Between the two videos, this instance is the
only one in which two readers share a changeover. What we—and the co-participants
—see is a unique instance where the setting does not match the voice but rather
where two participants are blended together, modeling how Joanna Warsza describes
the thinking-togetherness of curated performance: ‘Curating performance, for me, is a
pleasure of convergence, when you sit next to someone who is working, your mind
also works better. Curating merges into some kind of neuron cooperation’ (Warsza
2014, 123) (Figure 4).
Lockward both participates in and curates the online performance, using the Google+
Hangouts platform to ask participants to consider their collective invocation of Viau to
bring into being the healing for Saint-Domingue in relation to their own scholarship
and time-based performance art works included in the multimedio. Participants do not
sit next to each other, but they watch themselves seated next to one another in the
strip of thumbnail images at the bottom of the chat-window, able to see the blurred
and pixelated miniature responses of their co-participants. Some, like the video’s co-
editor, Annie Fukushima are quite still, with only her eyes scanning around the screen.
All of them change the angle and depth of their torsos with regards to the webcam as
their focus seems to shift from preparing for their own reading to listening to the
others’ readings. For example, Charo Oquet, once she has passed the baton off to
278 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

Figure 4. Thumbnail image linked to Guzman’s ‘Braids.’

Lockward, props her chin on her palm and shifts her weight to the side, then halfway
through Lockward’s reading, readjusts her glasses, lips slightly apart, and leans further
forward. Barbara Prézeau-Stephenson, who shares the same physical location and
screen as Maksaens Denis, is on the primary screen while he reads and when he begins
with the last section, she glances over to him, then looks off to the opposite side and
upward, her face serious without pulling focus as she crosses her left arm over her torso
to hold her right bicep. These moments of focused attention when participants tilt
forward, gazes lowered as if listening closely, hold space for their fellow readers, perform-
ing the invitation for the collective readings that Lockward names in the multimedio’s
introduction: to ‘create an urgently needed space for curative actions.’ The virtual space
they hold through networked solidarity is Viau’s idea of a bilateral, transnational, reterritor-
ializing island of Saint-Domingue.
In a moment of productive error, the above image is mistakenly linked to the discussion
of Sayuri Guzmán’s work in the multimedio’s last essay. Captioned with the description of
Guzmán’s piece, ‘Braids,’ the image is a set of repeated screen shots of the second collec-
tive reading of Viau’s participants, offering two poses from each of the readers, setting
them in rows as they would be seen in the strip of all of the video-chat participants at
the bottom of the screen, and then repeating that strip. The order—Row1, Row2, Row3,
Row1, Row1, Row2, Row1—forms an almost-predictable sequence that is anchored
both in color and facial expression: Charo Oquet’s bright red lipstick and white blazer alter-
nates with the leafy green exuberance in between Barbara Prézeau-Stephenson’s red
necklace and Maksaens Denis’s red collar at the edges of the screen; while Altagracia
Jean-Joseph’s round-cheeked smile softens the left border of the image. Guzmán’s
piece was a performance documented on film and still images in which Guzmán
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 279

braided the hair of women standing side by side to one another so that they looked like a
paper chain of dolls, linked at a single point of connection.14 More specifically, it is a piece
performed in the Dominican Republic that braids together Haitian and Dominican women
at a point of connection that is also a multivalent historical signifier of the intersections of
race, class, and gender. The caption of this performance work that depends on the physical
closeness of women momentarily describes the sequence of co-participant listeners in the
online collective reading, reinforcing Lockward’s invitation in curating the online collective
readings and the multimedia as a ‘gesture of solidarity.’ In the digital aleatory in the exist-
ence of this image and the error in labeling it with the title of Guzmán’s piece, the co-par-
ticipants’ performance of listening takes on the physical closeness of Guzmán’s
performance. The digital braid of the participants’ performances of listening to Viau
creates a visualization of the emotional responses to the contexts into which Lockward
draws Viau’s mid-century poetics. Its new context and place its political stakes the
poem as a response to la sentencia alongside its historical reference to the U.S. occupation,
which in turn surfaces both the racializations imposed by U.S. occupations of Saint-Dom-
ingue and the colonial legacies within la sentencia. By performing Viau’s poem and its
reference to such shared legacies in diverse settings and multiple languages, Lockward
and the collective of readers make ‘national essences’ unknowable. The curatorial work
of setting forth these new contexts and combinations of works permit the aleatory
images and sounds in the performance to do their work of destabilizing ideologies of
Domincanness and invoking Viau’s twentieth-century call for reterritorialization for a
twenty-first century Saint-Domingue.

Notes
1. In the e-misférica’s table of contents, Lockward’s dossier is listed in the ‘Multimedio texts’
section https://hemi.nyu.edu/hemi/en/emisferica-121-caribbean-rasanblaj; in the Hemispheric
Institute’s description of their ‘core projects,’ including the online journal e-misférica, they list
‘online multimedia artist presentations’ as one of the journals features, which this would seem
to be https://hemi.nyu.edu/hemi/en/core-projects.
2. As she explains in footnote 4 in the last essay of the multimedio, ‘Healing the Dual Wounds,’
Lockward chooses Saint-Domingue to refer to the entire island. Other scholars use the terms
Hispaniola or Kiskeya/Quisqueya to do the work of identifying a geo-political space that con-
tains two interdependent sometimes-somewhat-sovereign nations.
3. First published in Apuntes sobre el pensamiento y la creación contemporeanea desde El Caribe.
CENDEAC: Murcia, 2006. Included in Haití Dominicano (221-233), also translated into English
and published in Small Axe, October 2007 as ‘Pares & Nones (Evens & Odds): Invisible Equality’
with selected photographs. The exhibition in 2006 was the first of its kind and as of 2015, when
she pointed to ‘Pares & Nones’ as an important predecessor to ‘Blesi Doub,’ it remained the only
exhibition to have explicitly brought together Haitian, Dominican, and diaspora photographers.
4. This text is a version of an essay that Lockward initially wrote for the Centro León’s edited
volume on Dominican art, Trenzando una historia en curso: arte dominicano contemporáneo
en el contexto del Caribe (2010), where Lockward entitled it ‘Arte desde Santo Domingo:
ecos diaspóricos en el ’continente de la conciencia Negra’ (181-238), ‘Art from Santo
Domingo: Diasporic Echoes in the “continent of black consciousness.”’ In this version of the
essay, every page of text is flanked by a large color photograph of the art work being dis-
cussed. The title shifted in Un Haití Dominicano to ‘La herida doble de los Marassá en el ima-
ginario artístico de Saint-Domingue’ (273-304), ‘The dual wound of the Marassá (vodou twins)
in the artistic imaginary of Saint-Domingue’ to acknowledge its new context, an edited volume
280 J. MURRAY-ROMÁN

emphasizing the bilateral relations between Haiti and the Dominican Republic and also to
emphasize how her journalistic writing collected in this book doubled with her fiction
writing, notably in her novel Marassá y la nada. This version of the essay has no accompanying
images of the artworks discussed. Finally, she used much of the material from this essay as the
closing ‘multidimensional text’ in e-misférica, where it is entitled ‘Healing the Dual Wounds.
Body Politics in/and Saint-Domingue.’ There, images of the art discussed are included as
thumbnails and the text is studded with hyperlinks to artists’ home pages and to news
agencies’ reports on political figures and events.
5. In its English revision as the ‘multidimensional text’ at the end of the multimedio in e-misférica,
Lockward renders the phrase in English in a footnote 15 as, ‘after the constitutional ruling 168/
13, I have defined myself as an epistemic Haitian and a Dominican in transit.’ This translation
does not identify the gendered aspect of national belonging in una haitiana y una dominicana.
6. Shipley contrasts the treatment reserved for Haitians and Dominicans of Haitian descent in the
Dominican Republic to that of Dominican emigrants to the United States, who ‘the Dominican
Republic actively engages in efforts to provide social services’ (2015, 482–84).
7. In her evaluation of museum digital collections curators in 2014, Sonia Macedo comments that
their primary role is to preserve and manage digital collections, which can include digitized
images of analog works as well as digital artwork. Very rarely are they also charged with devel-
oping online and offline exhibits (as quoted in Carvahlo and Matos 2018, 44).
8. ‘I wanted to tell you of my country, / of my two homelands, / of my Island / divided long ago by
men / there were people came together to create a river’ (translation into English by Raj Chetty
and Amaury Rodríguez published in The Black Scholar, 63).
9. Since the ruling, there have been official deportations, summary removals, and what are some-
times termed ‘self-deportations.’ Javiera Alarcon reported for Foreign Policy in Focus that as of
July 2016, 70,000 persons had left the Dominican Republic voluntarily—a term that does not
address the social climate of fear and repression, but only whether the state was directly
involved in a person’s removal. The Haitian government has officially protested the ruling
at the Organization of American States, receiving support from other Caribbean nations, as
Jacqueline Charles reported for the Miami Herald on July 8, 2015. In these negotiations, the
Haitian government challenged official Dominican modes of determining ‘Haitian nationals,’
however, the Dominican Republic is not under any obligation to negotiate with the Haitian
government, and has rejected any international pressure to soften this stance. The debate
remained at a semantic level with the Dominican officials seemingly refusing responsibility
for having made Dominicans ‘stateless,’ but instead identifying those persons as Haitians
who had not yet been ‘regularized’ by the Haitian state.
10. ‘Chez Viau, les langues, les rythmes et les paysages des deux pays se donnent la main, se
rejoignent, s’alternent dans un va-et-vient fulgurant’ (2015, 77).
11. In the last essay of the multimedio, Lockward briefly mentions Jochi Muñoz’s performance
piece consisting of public readings of Viau throughout Santo Domingo.
12. The language used changes with each set in a sequence that does not privilege the language
in which the poem was written (the order in both videos is French, English, Spanish, French,
English, Spanish, French).
13. The standard screen configuration for the multiparty video chat supported by Google+ Hang-
outs contains a strip at the bottom with the thumbnails of each of the participants’ screens, a
main screen featuring the current speaker, and a text chat-box for participants’ written com-
ments in a vertical column on the right side. In the February 16, 2015 collective reading, both
the text chat-box and the thumbnail strip of participants were edited out. In the February 18,
2015 collective reading, the text chat-box is edited out but the bottom strip with the screens
of all the other participants remains, leading to the differing materialization of virtual space in
each of the two videos.
14. This work was presented at the Hemispheric Institute’s 2009 Encuentro in Bogotá, Colombia
and is documented at https://hemisphericinstitute.org/en/enc09-performances/item/56-09-
sayuri-guzman.html.
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PERFORMANCE ARTS AND DIGITAL MEDIA 281

Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Notes on contributor
Jeannine Murray-Román is an Assistant Professor of French and Spanish in the Department of
Modern Languages at Florida State University. She is the author of ‘Twitter’s and @douenislands’
ambiguous paths’ in SX archipelagos as well as the monograph Performance and Personhood in Car-
ibbean Literature: From Alexis to the Digital Age (University of Virginia Press, 2017). Her current
research interests include walking, figures of partial death in Caribbean writing, and the debt
crisis in Puerto Rico.

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