The Robert Browne, 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne, 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (interior view), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (interior view), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (interior view), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (interior view, detail), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (exterior view, detail), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (exterior view, detail), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (interior view, detail), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
The Robert Browne (interior view, detail), 2022. Fabric dye, charcoal, thread, linen, and steel; 78 x 96 x 168 in., painting dimensions 48 x 420 in. Photo courtesy the artist.
Katherine Yaochen Du
b. 1992, Boulder, Colorado
The archive has nothing to tell me, but I am listening anyway. Aboard the Robert Browne, a Connecticut ship, four hundred Chinese men revolted. Duped by promises of being brought to California, they fought to prevent their certain deaths in the guano mines of Peru. The story bears the indelible marks of archival violence: the only names and identities that remain are those of their white captors. Through what ethics could I reanimate the dignity of those who, according to history as written, do not exist?
My solution foregrounds embodiment. In this installation, I adopt the formats of the nineteenth century American cyclorama and the Chinese handscroll painting to create a walk-in narrative container for the experiences of the men aboard the Robert Browne. In this theater of redacted history, men dream of greener shores, fight, and capitulate. They retch at the smell of their own filthy bodies, plot by candlelight, and tend to one another after desperation compels them to the ultimate violence. Each of the hundreds of figures in the work is a pose I took, a face I grimaced, a scenario I inhabited with physical commitment, however momentarily. Through this act of self-investment, I contend with Saidiya Hartman’s call to “exceed or negotiate the constitutive limits of the archive.” As I listen to the archive’s silence, I tell as much of the story as I am capable of bearing.