Akeim Toussaint Buck’s one-man work defies categorisation. Part spoken word, part dance, part interactive talk. Through his body and his voice he channels the epic story of colonialism: continents, centuries, the breadth of impact from political ideologies and the cruelty of refugeehood, all distilled into one human being.  

He tells us stories of his own life, journeying from Jamaica to Leeds, matching the melody and rhythm of those words with a flow from his body that feels musical; swoops, spins, punctuated by sharp stamps. His arms follow the rising of the sun; his feet mark the beat. As the lights turn red, his story expands into the horrors of slavery. Watching him flagellate himself again and again, you can feel the trauma of history under his skin. 

^{Picture: Andrew Perry}

When his language switches to that of geopolitics, explaining Jamaica’s financially crippling debt to the IMF, his gestures adapt to the cadences of the long dispassionate words, as if he’s drawing it out for us. There’s mischief here too, as Toussaint Buck asks the audience to pass among us an imaginary baby, or to take selfies and post them to a social-media hashtag, so that when he feels depressed, he can look them up and revel in this moment of community. 

Windows Of Displacement is unflinching from horror; in the child’s drawings of violent acts it projects onto the backscreen, in its poetry describing oppression, and in the horrifying descriptions of mining in the Congo. And yet through the life-affirming spirit which Toussaint Buck communicates with his body, you are left feeling strangely hopeful for this despicable world.

The Studio, until 13 August, 8pm.