Review: Nigamon / Tunai

A woody, smoky smell drifts through The Studio’s open doors. Inside, its stark black box has become a sun-dappled forest; cushions and wooden stools are dotted amongst young trees standing tall in hessian sacks, small ponds are lined with lush moss, and a stone circle holds court in the centre of the room. 

Nigamon and tunai are the words for song in Anishinaabemowin and Inga respectively, languages indigenous to parts of Canada and Colombia, and this meditative, deeply focused performance acts as a bridge between Indigenous people in both hemispheres. Into this sunlit space step artists Émilie Monnet and Waira Nina, who use breathwork, movement and bird calls to celebrate a shared spiritual connection with the natural world. They also reveal a bitter irony: Monnet’s Anishinaabe culture cherishes copper, yet Canadian companies are devastating Nina’s home in the Colombian Amazon to harvest the very same mineral.

Central to this ritual of allyship and mourning are copper instruments created by Colombian sound artist Leonel Vásquez. They gleam in the dark, and are activated only by the pouring of pure, clean water. Amplified drip drip drips reverberate through this temporary forest, coaxing us to share in the acute loss of every leaf, branch, bird and pool.