I didn’t think twice about qualifying myself as a third world feminist when I was recently asked to describe my approach towards an artwork I was evolving for an institution in South Tyrol. I had been enlisted to help the curator with writing the captions for certain specific works of art in an upcoming exhibition that dealt quite squarely with systemic racism, queer rights, gender violence and xenophobia. In addition to offering context to each work, the curators were keen for me to also include a perspective. I felt unsure about such an undertaking, because layering perspective within wall caption text could make the experience of reading it overly dense. I have a personal dislike for excessively long wall captions at art shows. I prefer for the texts to be snappy and offer just enough information as to make the art accessible. I feel repelled when a text tells me how to experience a sculpture, painting, or installation. I proposed recording an audio guide that could be made available via QR Code. Visitors could, therefore, choose to listen to my impressions about the exhibition either while in the gallery, or at home, or while driving… The QR Code made the piece site-specific without binding it to the location. 

Since I’ve been thinking about art criticism as the consequence of metabolising art, thus prioritising the body’s emotional and physiological registers, it was important for me to be transparent about my position. In fact, I believe it should be standard practice for any form of authorship. I think it is an act of consideration towards the reader or viewer, allowing for transparency. I wanted to summon the brownness of my body within the viewer’s imagination and to also suggest that I do not ‘belong’ to this context in which the work is being shown but come from elsewhere, and so observe things differently.