The Art of Translating and Vice Versa

Art and translation share the power to transcend language barriers, national borders, temporal limits, and meaning. Both involve movements, transpositions, and transmutations of form, space, and time. Translation itself is an art form, one that involves not just the linguistic transfer of words, but the cultural, political and emotional nuances embedded within them. In my translation practice, I navigate throughout the im/balances of preserving the message of a source text while maintaining — or rather, transcreating — form. This process is akin to how artists interpret the world and present it through various mediums. To translate is to inhabit the encruzilhada. And there is no way to define encruzilhada as a single, closed concept. It is a force, an entity, point of connection, convergence, and deviation, a portal, an epistemic system, movement. It is where multiple codes come together and expand into infinity. Therefore, it is also translation. Poet and scholar Leda Maria Martins describes encruzilhada as “a foundation of thought and action,” that “acts as a translator and operator of the principles that structure Black thought. It is the founding cartography for the epistemology circumscribed by African and African-diasporic wisdoms.”

Working for over a decade as a translator for transnational art institutions and art-oriented magazines, as well as for the publishing market in Brazil and abroad, I have found it fascinating to perceive similarities and dissimilarities in the art/thought by African descent artists and thinkers across Latin America, Africa, Europe, or the United States, especially when it comes to the work of/within/against words. In the intersections of art in/as translation, it is crucial to understand first the concepts and then how artists mobilize them. The textualities usually n,show a form, which I strive to honor and emphasize through the art of translating.

Deeply embedded in Black Brazilian thought, art, history and spirituality, the very concept of encruzilhada is tricky to translate. Encruzilhadas, usually symbolized by the figure of Eshù, the Orishà of communication and movement, the messenger between worlds, is also a conceptual theoretical key to approach Black art. In A cena em sombras (1995), Leda Maria Martins explores Black U.S. and Brazilian theater through the concept of encruzilhada. She weaves memories, rites, and myths, connecting the Black Atlantic diaspora with African ancestrality, and culture at and through the encruzilhada, highlighting points of connection, crossings and transmutations. In this context, if one translates encruzilhadas as “crossroads” or “intersections,” it might lead the reader to its graphic or literal meaning of “the place where roads intersect,” or even to its figurative meaning of “a point at which a vital decision must be made,” but its esthetic, spiritual, ancestral meanings rooted in African and African diasporic cosmoperceptions might also get lost. When translating it, it is crucial to add a brief explanation in order to avoid epistemicide. Additionally, preserving the concept as elaborated in the source might broaden the analytical frame of its reception in the Anglophone world.

Blackness is usually translated into Portuguese as “negritude.” Although crucial thinkers like Adbias Nascimento brought to Brazil and adapted the term “négritude” from the Francophone Négritude movement of the 1930s, today, when the term is not specifically referring to this literary movement, I use “negridade” to translate Blackness. The intention is to expand on Négritude, addressing the erasure of less known, but not less important thinkers of that time, such as Paulette and Jane Nardal. By doing so, I simultaneously reference the thought of Denise Ferreira da Silva, who also employs this term. Most importantly, I am not interested in capturing, through translation, the meaning of words like Blackness or encruzilhada, but keep them in their element, that is, always in movement.

One of the most compelling aspects of translation in the contemporary art realm is its ability to establish connections. These connections exceed languages and happen among people, cultures, history, geography, and artistic expressions. It is a joy to translate a verse by poet and essayist May Ayim from German into Brazilian Portuguese while quoting a line by Brazilian poet and writer Carolina Maria de Jesus in Quarto de Despejo: “A noite está tépida. O céu já está salpicado de estrelas. Eu que sou exótica gostaria de recortar um pedaço do céu para fazer um vestido.” Thus, Ayim’s verses: schwarzblauer himmel über mir/ silbersterne dran, turn into: céu preto azulado sobre mim / salpicado de estrelas cintilantes.

Transcreating the meanings of “(in the) wake”, as developed by Christina Sharpe, into a smooth alliteration — “(no) vestígio, velório, (na) vigília, vereda” — in my translation of her homonymous book, presented a challenge not just in terms of transcreation, but mainly of comprehension of both mine and the author’s work. My translation practice is a space of encounter, where African diasporic art/thought meets, mingles, transmutes, and lives on. As a center of forces — where I creatively and carefully set alien concepts in motion, introduce them into another culture, uncover their pre-existing resonances in different contexts, thereby challenging grammar-oriented languages (whether national languages or art systems) —, my translation practice is (at the) encruzilhada. In this liminal space, I, too, am the messenger.

Shared codes within the African diaspora – lately being incorporated by art institutions – may have different names, carry slightly different meanings, or be non-verbal. Being open to, deeply implicated in, and knowledgeable about these codes guides my work. By being (at) the encruzilhadas, and allowing their forces to inform our studies and practices, we gain a deeper and broader understanding of the importance of translation within art spaces, as well as of artistic practices as translation, both re/sounding (colonial) languages, and reshaping contemporary art anew.


* This text is part of an editorial collaboration between Pro Helvetia South America and C&AL. Pro Helvetia via Looren América Latina have been supporting transatlantic conversations through projects that play a significant role in fostering these connections not only between translation and art, but also across continents. By gathering translators and artists from Latin America through projects such as Encruzilhadas Brasil, Moçambique e Suíça, Looren América Latina creates platforms for dialogue and exchange, enriching the cultural landscapes of all regions and (not only official) languages involved. The collaborations facilitated by Looren América Latina allow for the cross-pollination of ideas, leading to the exploration of translation (as) and artistic practices.

Jess Oliveira is a translator, professor in the German Department at UFBA, and poet. She holds a PhD in Literature and Culture and was a member of the former Research Group Traduzindo no Atlântico Negro at UFBA. A finalist in 2020 for the Jabuti Award in the Translation category, translated Denise Ferreira da Silva, Dionne Brand, Leda Maria Martins; bell hooks, Grada Kilomba, May Ayim; Ibi Zoboi, Christina Sharpe, Patricia H. Collins, tatiana nascimento,  among many others. Jess is a part of the cocoruto translation-art duo, a platform dedicated to experimental translation approaches and practices. See: https://www.cocorutoartduo.com