Reflections on International Human Rights Day by Dawn Felicia Knox
Our Associate Artist and PhD collaborator Dawn Felicia Knox shares her moving reflections on the evening when D6, artists and communities came together, galvanised around art and human rights.
As a community, both globally and locally, we are navigating profound uncertainty and grief. There are storms brewing, waves crashing and every other ecological and geopolitical metaphor of unrest mounting around us. On the anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights D6, along with invited artists and Star and Shadow volunteers, worked together to create a moment of respite; many hands making light the work of welcome.
In the held collective space we were more than just sheltering together, we were creating a place of unity and solidarity in the midst of the rising unease.
Dima Karout, the curator and facilitator of this gathering, warmly welcomed and invited us to share in the generosity of the artists’ offerings. She invited us to introduce ourselves to our neighbours and talk about what brought us here. There was no resistance, everybody was quick to connect. Those around me came from different places, drawn by the music, by the performances, by the invitation to honour human rights.
Dima then spoke of lines: lines that connect us, lines that divide us, lines of poetry, lines of resistance. The lines of the Human Rights Act, which was published 72 years ago, rising from the ashes of World War II. Dima reminded us that this act was a clear declaration of our universal rights and that they are under threat across the globe. Lines have been drawn and bodies are on the line to protect all we hold dear.
As a community, both globally and locally, we are navigating profound uncertainty and grief. There are storms brewing, waves crashing and every other ecological and geopolitical metaphor of unrest mounting around us. On the anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights D6, along with invited artists and Star and Shadow volunteers, worked together to create a moment of respite; many hands making light the work of welcome.
In the held collective space we were more than just sheltering together, we were creating a place of unity and solidarity in the midst of the rising unease.
Dima Karout, the curator and facilitator of this gathering, warmly welcomed and invited us to share in the generosity of the artists’ offerings. She invited us to introduce ourselves to our neighbours and talk about what brought us here. There was no resistance, everybody was quick to connect. Those around me came from different places, drawn by the music, by the performances, by the invitation to honour human rights.
Dima then spoke of lines: lines that connect us, lines that divide us, lines of poetry, lines of resistance. The lines of the Human Rights Act, which was published 72 years ago, rising from the ashes of World War II. Dima reminded us that this act was a clear declaration of our universal rights and that they are under threat across the globe. Lines have been drawn and bodies are on the line to protect all we hold dear.
Performance by Amak Mahmoodian and Paria Goodarzi
There was a murmuring, a shuffling of chairs, then silence.
I turned my body to see past the rows of people in front of me. Sitting on the stage was a woman dressed in black with a pot of paint and brush in hand. She moved the brush along her arm leaving a white line of paint that didn’t hesitate at the edge of her clothing but continued up her sleeve, down her blouse and across her whole body. She painted the line down her legs and then onto the ground beneath her bare feet. She crouched, moving from the stage continuing her line as she moved across the floor.
Transfixed, people shuffled in their chairs, craned their necks to watch her move deftly, deliberately, leaving a jagged but connected line of paint behind her. Between the rows of people, she would become visible then move out of sight again. Surfacing then disappearing and resurfacing between us as she continued to paint the line on the ground. The line was cragged following the shapes of invisible barriers, unseen rocks, islands, bodies of water.
An invisible topography began to emerge as the line continued on. She painted over a woman's bare feet. As paint touched her skin, the woman began to speak. With bare feet lined with paint, she walked behind the first woman speaking lines of poetry.
Keeping the distance between lines
The women continue on; one painting the line, the other speaking the lines …. Separated by Borders …… the audience, absorbed in the action and the words, moved their bodies to see them as they walked around the room, walked around us ….. when you meet, the line becomes a circle. Amak spoke as the end of the line joined its beginning becoming one connected shape.
We are now all within the circle
There was a murmuring, a shuffling of chairs, then silence.
I turned my body to see past the rows of people in front of me. Sitting on the stage was a woman dressed in black with a pot of paint and brush in hand. She moved the brush along her arm leaving a white line of paint that didn’t hesitate at the edge of her clothing but continued up her sleeve, down her blouse and across her whole body. She painted the line down her legs and then onto the ground beneath her bare feet. She crouched, moving from the stage continuing her line as she moved across the floor.
Transfixed, people shuffled in their chairs, craned their necks to watch her move deftly, deliberately, leaving a jagged but connected line of paint behind her. Between the rows of people, she would become visible then move out of sight again. Surfacing then disappearing and resurfacing between us as she continued to paint the line on the ground. The line was cragged following the shapes of invisible barriers, unseen rocks, islands, bodies of water.
An invisible topography began to emerge as the line continued on. She painted over a woman's bare feet. As paint touched her skin, the woman began to speak. With bare feet lined with paint, she walked behind the first woman speaking lines of poetry.
Keeping the distance between lines
The women continue on; one painting the line, the other speaking the lines …. Separated by Borders …… the audience, absorbed in the action and the words, moved their bodies to see them as they walked around the room, walked around us ….. when you meet, the line becomes a circle. Amak spoke as the end of the line joined its beginning becoming one connected shape.
We are now all within the circle
Talk by Lucy Nychai
Lucy sits on the stage telling us of her practice as the images of her work fill the room with colour and light. As an artist from Ukraine, her work takes on urgency. Lucy has been navigating conflict, unrest and all out war in her homeland. The images she shares place us in the centre of her resistance through making. She tethers her practice to the rhythms of the earth - from the call of birds warning of imminent storms, to trees dropping their leaves in protection of their branches as winter winds whip.
Not every bird can cross the sea
Her work bears witness to the brutality of war with an unflinching intimacy; the body of a son cradled by his mother as a pieta in warm mosaic patterns, a friend's imprisonment and abuse evoked as plaster birds, an artwork that holds the smell of memory from a town that no longer exists. Her work takes us into the grey zone of occupation, evoking the challenge of autumn trees and acts of preservation: trees drop their leaves so they can survive.
She sees Ukraine held in a winter of war. Her country becomes the trees losing what was green and living to protect its heart.
We lost soldiers to save the country
Lucy is also a curator, facilitating the work of fellow Ukrainian artists through the project (Re)Grounding. The project, produced by D6 and Izolyatsia, is an urgent call to build solidarity towards ecological justice through artistic production and community exchange. The project urges us to look beneath our feet. She is supporting the artists as they are growing intergenerational gardens of resilience both literally and metaphorically.
Now our future, in our hands.
Lucy sits on the stage telling us of her practice as the images of her work fill the room with colour and light. As an artist from Ukraine, her work takes on urgency. Lucy has been navigating conflict, unrest and all out war in her homeland. The images she shares place us in the centre of her resistance through making. She tethers her practice to the rhythms of the earth - from the call of birds warning of imminent storms, to trees dropping their leaves in protection of their branches as winter winds whip.
Not every bird can cross the sea
Her work bears witness to the brutality of war with an unflinching intimacy; the body of a son cradled by his mother as a pieta in warm mosaic patterns, a friend's imprisonment and abuse evoked as plaster birds, an artwork that holds the smell of memory from a town that no longer exists. Her work takes us into the grey zone of occupation, evoking the challenge of autumn trees and acts of preservation: trees drop their leaves so they can survive.
She sees Ukraine held in a winter of war. Her country becomes the trees losing what was green and living to protect its heart.
We lost soldiers to save the country
Lucy is also a curator, facilitating the work of fellow Ukrainian artists through the project (Re)Grounding. The project, produced by D6 and Izolyatsia, is an urgent call to build solidarity towards ecological justice through artistic production and community exchange. The project urges us to look beneath our feet. She is supporting the artists as they are growing intergenerational gardens of resilience both literally and metaphorically.
Now our future, in our hands.
Performance and talk by lisa minerva luxx
lisa joined us by video as they couldn't be with us in person, but immediately bridged the digital and time gaps with their generosity and wisdom. Sharing poems from the series fetch your mother’s heart, their words arrested us as they spoke their poetry about the ancestral lines carried in the blood and bodies of diaspora through the story of their grandfather in Beirut.
Lines draw backwards through our lineage, through our stories.
Rituals keep outliving us.
lisa joined us by video as they couldn't be with us in person, but immediately bridged the digital and time gaps with their generosity and wisdom. Sharing poems from the series fetch your mother’s heart, their words arrested us as they spoke their poetry about the ancestral lines carried in the blood and bodies of diaspora through the story of their grandfather in Beirut.
Lines draw backwards through our lineage, through our stories.
Rituals keep outliving us.
lisa spoke of kinship, solidarity and continuation. They reminded us that the human rights declaration is not legally binding, but it is the foundation of international law. It's a line in the sand, that winds keep blowing making it harder and harder to read, they tell us. Regimes transgress the line, moving the line to erase human rights of those who dissent.
lisa tells about the 22 activists who are currently in prison in the UK for advocating for the Palestinian people's rights, and putting their bodies on the line to disrupt the supply lines of weapons used in genocide.
If it feels impossible, you are going the right way
lisa asks if… I am acting in a way that is worthy of my ancestors? Am I being a worthy ancestor?
May I be your ancestor,
young fire, spark dreaming of the flame
May I be your ancestor as the wood was mine
As the tree hung dry, dying
So that the smoke may one day speak
Symbols into a clear night
When they finished there was an intake of collective breath in the room. Then a hush. Then a heartfelt applause for all that had been shared by each of the artists and held by Dima’s great care.
lisa tells about the 22 activists who are currently in prison in the UK for advocating for the Palestinian people's rights, and putting their bodies on the line to disrupt the supply lines of weapons used in genocide.
If it feels impossible, you are going the right way
lisa asks if… I am acting in a way that is worthy of my ancestors? Am I being a worthy ancestor?
May I be your ancestor,
young fire, spark dreaming of the flame
May I be your ancestor as the wood was mine
As the tree hung dry, dying
So that the smoke may one day speak
Symbols into a clear night
When they finished there was an intake of collective breath in the room. Then a hush. Then a heartfelt applause for all that had been shared by each of the artists and held by Dima’s great care.
Panel discussion
You, me, we connect the line, making a circle of protection
Amak, Paria, Lucy and Dima, in a line on the stage, reflected on the evening. Dima reflected on their shared words, about the fragility of lines in the sand but also the strength of our gathering. She invited the artists to share how they create moments to collaborate, to resist, to co-create solidarity.
Paria spoke of the importance of art that challenges, that offers a voice to share.
Lisa spoke of creating platforms for the energy generated by art to fuel action. She doesn’t believe art has the power of direct action but it can archive the human heart. Art can build collaborative relationships, demand action and mobilise people, but then the people need to go do the work.
Amak talked about how perhaps artists can’t create fundamental change, but art is a universal language, it can bring change for future generations. Violence reduces people to numbers, but art emphasises what is unseen, the human stories. It can create a world of new collaborations that can build new life without borders.
Lucy reminds us that solidarity is the base of human relationships. From solidarity, hope grows and then can be realised by our collective actions. The artist's work spoke of resilience and the shared desire to make the intentions of the Human Rights Declaration a living reality for everyone.
Article 1: All human beings are born free and equal.
From the audience a woman told us how tonight's conversation has set her heart and head in so many directions. Someone else spoke about how the dialogues helped us understand, to draw us all together. Others spoke of the privilege of being together collectively honouring our universal human rights. Together we are retracing and strengthening the line.
You, me, we connect the line, making a circle of protection
Amak, Paria, Lucy and Dima, in a line on the stage, reflected on the evening. Dima reflected on their shared words, about the fragility of lines in the sand but also the strength of our gathering. She invited the artists to share how they create moments to collaborate, to resist, to co-create solidarity.
Paria spoke of the importance of art that challenges, that offers a voice to share.
Lisa spoke of creating platforms for the energy generated by art to fuel action. She doesn’t believe art has the power of direct action but it can archive the human heart. Art can build collaborative relationships, demand action and mobilise people, but then the people need to go do the work.
Amak talked about how perhaps artists can’t create fundamental change, but art is a universal language, it can bring change for future generations. Violence reduces people to numbers, but art emphasises what is unseen, the human stories. It can create a world of new collaborations that can build new life without borders.
Lucy reminds us that solidarity is the base of human relationships. From solidarity, hope grows and then can be realised by our collective actions. The artist's work spoke of resilience and the shared desire to make the intentions of the Human Rights Declaration a living reality for everyone.
Article 1: All human beings are born free and equal.
From the audience a woman told us how tonight's conversation has set her heart and head in so many directions. Someone else spoke about how the dialogues helped us understand, to draw us all together. Others spoke of the privilege of being together collectively honouring our universal human rights. Together we are retracing and strengthening the line.
Shared meal and dancing
People sharing food filled the room, steam rising from the warming curry and spiced rice that Felour Moghadamy's chicbites had prepared for us with great care. Warm glow of conversation, connections drawing the lines of how we arrived here together tonight. Some knew D6 from ages back. Artists talked about how together they tested the edge of what was possible. Others remembered D6 as a place where storytellers came together. Some came who had never been here before and were welcomed. All were welcomed and warmed by the generosity of the invitation, by the many lines joining and stretching across this space and back again being the circle that strengthens us.
As people danced through the night, the lines of the circle painted on the ground marked our feet. The circle remained even after we left the building carrying its traces on us, not dispersing the circle, just widening its edges and welcoming all we encountered inside.
People sharing food filled the room, steam rising from the warming curry and spiced rice that Felour Moghadamy's chicbites had prepared for us with great care. Warm glow of conversation, connections drawing the lines of how we arrived here together tonight. Some knew D6 from ages back. Artists talked about how together they tested the edge of what was possible. Others remembered D6 as a place where storytellers came together. Some came who had never been here before and were welcomed. All were welcomed and warmed by the generosity of the invitation, by the many lines joining and stretching across this space and back again being the circle that strengthens us.
As people danced through the night, the lines of the circle painted on the ground marked our feet. The circle remained even after we left the building carrying its traces on us, not dispersing the circle, just widening its edges and welcoming all we encountered inside.
Thank you to our supporters Paul Hamlyn Foundation, Arts Council England and the Newcastle Culture Investment Fund.
D6's International Human Rights Day event, which took place on 10 December 2024, is part of our ASSEMBLE programme. Find out more here.
Images: Amelia Read
D6's International Human Rights Day event, which took place on 10 December 2024, is part of our ASSEMBLE programme. Find out more here.
Images: Amelia Read