Our September - October Storefront Window artist is Naffisatou Koulibaly!!
Naffisatou Koulibaly (she/her) is a poet and multimedia artist from Providence, RI. Naffisatou began writing professionally a decade ago at AS220 Youth where she was introduced to Slam poetry. Naffisatou competed on the Providence Poetry Slam’s youth Slam team in 2018 at international poetry festival, Brave New Voices. She currently serves as co-director for ProvSlam; writing grants, managing programming, and teaching poetry workshops. Naffisatou received a BA in English Literature from Salve Regina University in 2021. Naffisatou is also a resident at the Dirt Palace in Olneyville. From September 2023-June 2024, she was a part of the Emerging Artist Fellowship (now the Creative Leadership Program) at AS220 with a focus in teaching and education.
Below is a conversation between Storefront Window Artist Naffisatou Koulibaly and Interdisciplinary Artist and Cultural Worker Shey 'Rí Acu' Rivera Ríos
Shey: What was the first image that emerged for you when creating this piece and what was your process to deepen it into a completed work?
Naffi: This work is born from my original poem “Dog Days,” which is ultimately about birthdays and aging. There’s a line that reads “It’s not your birthday if you don’t cry / If you don’t wish to be someone else when the candles go out.” This image of a girl (me), sitting in front of a lit birthday cake, crying, sobbing, with her make-up running, has been living in my brain since I wrote those lines. Revisiting “Dog Days” got me thinking about birthdays again and how they evolve over time. When you’re a kid, everybody’s so excited and happy to celebrate, even yourself. Then, somehow, the celebration doesn’t feel like a celebration anymore, and you look around and realize how everything has changed since you were a kid. There’s no more cake, or singing, or balloons. Sometimes, it’s just you and a bottle of tequila, wondering how you even got this old in this first place. (I know I’m not “old”, but indulge me for a moment). I wanted to convey this transformation of birthdays. I wanted to convey how we make birthdays our own as we age.
S: How does the clownesque persona come to you?
N: It’s funny because I hate clowns. If I saw one coming at me down the street, I’d lose it! I think the first time I imagined myself as this clown persona was after I saw a sad clown. What a juxtaposition: a sad (birthday) clown.
S: Performance and writing come together seamlessly in your work. Does your process begin with writing? How does connecting these forms help you shape what you wish to convey?
N: This specific work began with the writing. I wrote “Dog Days” when I was 22 (maaaaybe 21?). I’m 26 now, so, it’s grown over the last few years with me. I did not have a visual concept for the poem until earlier this year (2025). Sometimes the process begins with an image in my head that gets translated into words, but for the most part it always begins with writing. Blending performance and writing allows me to make more meaning out of my art. It makes me really consider what I’m saying in my writing.
S: What do you find compelling in performance as a medium to express yourself?
N: I find performance compelling because I can be me without being me. It’s me, but not really. Going back to that line “If you don’t wish to be someone else when the candles go out,” there's always been and I think always will be a part of me that wants to be someone else. Not forever, but just for the experience. I’ve always been me, sometimes that gets really tiring. Sometimes I want a break from my own small scope of reality and existence. This performance specifically is about me, but in this extended almost subverted way. I find that freeing. It reminds me I can always be different, I can always grow, I can always change.
S: The installation conveys the aesthetic and feeling of a memory, flashback, home recorded birthday videos played in VHS tapes on old televisions. Perhaps a longing of self, domestic space, and family. Although family is not present in the work, its absence becomes a presence. What role does family play in this work? Are we as viewers the family of this persona?
N: As a child, your life is not your own. In a way it belongs to your caregivers. Your entire existence and any kind of experience in the world is typically filtered through what your parents provide (i.e. birthday parties). And then one day, they hand your life over to you and say “Here! Go live!” And my response was “What??? You just did all my living for me. You told me how to engage with the world and now I’m supposed to be in charge?” It’s jarring once the reins of your own life are passed over to yourself. Now, you’re in charge of your own birthday. Your mom isn’t planning your parties anymore. She’s not making a cake for you. There’s no singing. Maybe you get a phone call. So, in addition to creating my own meaning out of birthdays, I’ve had to create my own meaning of family. Right now, this persona has no family. Yes, maybe the audience is their family. I hadn’t considered that.
S: You chose video performance for this work, which is perfect for a very visible storefront installation. In your broader creative work, what does video performance offer you that is different from live performance?
N: It’s very similar to live performance in which video allows me to breathe different angles of meaning into my work. It creates multiple layers of images stacked on top of one another that enhance and push the work to new places. It creates more opening points for audience members to connect with. Different from live performance, it gives me the chance for more precision and access to other aspects of meaning that live performance can’t. The VHS style that evoked a sense of longing for family would otherwise be inaccessible without the video medium. That longing for family is a big part of this piece that isn’t explicitly stated but shown through the video.
This particular body of work shows a glimpse of an emotionally charged and angst filled experience of girlhood. What do you desire from the audiences that witness your work? What do you wish they take with them from this piece, and what can they offer you with their witnessing?
N: This is honestly a question I’m still figuring out for myself. An aspect of this clown persona is the idea that I hate being a form of entertainment for others. Especially as a woman. There’s something inherently off about parading yourself and your deepest secrets for strangers. In typical angsty, girly fashion, sometimes I hate sharing my work with audiences because it’s mine. It’s like letting a stranger read your diary. Now that you’ve heard my poetry, I have to k*ll you…kidding…maybe. But seriously, it doesn’t get easier to share this kind of stuff, you just grow around the uncomfortability. A lot of the time, I don’t wish for audiences to see me. Being a girl can feel like you're begging for a witness a lot of the time. I am my own witness and if you’re there to see it, well then, I hope you can keep a secret.
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