The Jamaican-born cultural theorist Stuart Hall, who made an extraordinary contribution to postcolonial discourse during his lifetime, suggested that one should think of culture not necessarily as a return to roots, but rather in terms of routes, an idea that fully embraces a very expansive notion of culture. This includes the routes by which people travel and also how culture travels, moves, develops, changes and migrates. The exhibition title Jamaican Routes pays homage to Stuart Hall, and also serves to emphasize that although rooted in Jamaica, the exhibition embraces an expanded notion of Jamaican contemporary art that reaches well beyond Jamaica. The routes of this exhibition are complex and intertwined, reach from past to present, and back again. These routes are as influenced by history as they are by personal experience, whether they extend from Jamaica to Trinidad, The United States to Mauritius, from Kentucky to Kingston, or whether they are local routes that lead from Half Way Tree to the hills of Saint Andrew.
Already well known in Jamaica and the Caribbean, the eleven participating artists featured in Jamaican Routes are young artists whose careers are on the rise internationally. The selected works have been carefully chosen to provide a nuanced impression of Jamaican contemporary art that reveals its formal and conceptual depth. The participating artists address a wide range of topics through their work, including, but not limited to the social, cultural and political implications of Jamaican music. Through the years, the development of Jamaican music in its many forms has provided an unlimited source of inspiration for musicians worldwide. Jamaican music is a treasure trove in terms of how it reflects the social, political and cultural climate of Jamaica, and continues to have a tremendous impact on popular music around the world. In fact, Jamaica is one of the few countries that can lay claim to planting the seed for more than one contemporary musical genre. From Kingston to the world and back again, Jamaican music has been truly instrumental to the development of other forms of popular music. As such, the intricacies of Jamaican music and the social and cultural implications of its development provide a powerful undertone for many of the works featured in Jamaican Routes. Considering the overall importance of Jamaican music, both in and outside of Jamaica, this shouldn’t come as much of a surprise.
For those who know a little about the history of Jamaican music both before and after Bob Marley, and who know that hip-hop culture was created long before the likes of Kanye had much to say, the exchange between reggae and rap music is a match made in heaven. Particularly for those who know their reggae royalty, from King Tubby to Prince Jammy, Lee Scratch Perry to Burning Spear, and who can also differentiate between Grandmaster Flash and The Sugarhill Gang, the constant give and take between reggae, hip-hop, crossover, and other musical genres is simply in the mix. Not long after Lauren Hill, the queen of hip-hop, married Bob Marley’s son Rohan Marley, she was in on an amazing remix of Bob Marley’s Turn the Lights Down Low. The song was one of the main titles on what is probably among the most dynamic crossover albums ever, Chant Down Babylon, produced by Bob Marley’s son Stephen Marley in 1999. For roots reggae purists the album is more rap than reggae, but it’s really not far from a classic ‘version’ – a true Jamaican remix. Just listen to hip-hop prodigy Wyclef Jean at his most ‘rootical’ if you need proof that reggae is as relevant today as it was when Bob Marley was still alive. It’s already been twelve years since Wyclef rocked the house with his legendary crossover album Preacher’s Son, and he continues to create positive vibrations with his unique mash-up of reggae/calypso/soca-inspired rap. Of course, true reggae enthusiasts know that the significance of reggae, if perhaps more prevalent than ever before, has been relevant ever since the seventies.
If reggae has had an influence on hip-hop music, the atmosphere in Jamaican dancehalls has also been influenced to an equal extent by American hip-hop culture, where it was adopted quite some time ago as an important source of inspiration for the development of modern Jamaican music. When dreadlocks in Jamaica are exchanged for ‘gangsta rap’ attire, and hip-hop stars in New York wear dreadlocks, and consciously dress in red, yellow and green it’s not just ‘crossover dressing’, more importantly it speaks of a vital exchange between different music forms.
While new generations continue to discover the magic of reggae, reggae music itself has also gone through some vital developments. A lot has changed since the good old days of conscious roots reggae, even during the past few years. Somewhere along the timeline, in the gradual transition from roots reggae to the most provocative forms of dancehall, various cultural and social shifts have taken place that have tremendous ideological and sociological implications that are worthy of discussion within the framework of contemporary art. Especially right now, in the midst of the current reggae revival , with Chronixx, Protojé and Jesse Royal among the movement’s rapidly rising stars, fascinating things are happening in Kingston that have implications far beyond Jamaica, both in terms of music and art. Just as the most relevant art and music anywhere in the world often reflects a bigger cultural phenomenon, Jamaican music, and dancehall culture in particular, is an ongoing source of inspiration for several of the participating artists in this exhibition.
Ebony G. Patterson’s intricately detailed tapestries and installation works encrusted with glitter, rhinestones, fabric, silk flowers, jewelry, sunglasses, toys, and other paraphernalia provide a fascinating visual platform for her ongoing investigation of topics that relate specifically to Jamaican dancehall culture. While it’s easy to understand these strong and highly significant cultural links, her work is also highly relevant within a wider international context.
When I first encountered Ebony G. Patterson’s sparkling installations and tapestries they immediately brought to mind the work of Liza Lou. In Patterson’s case, the politics of identity and fashion unfold in the shared space of contemporary art and dancehall culture. Deeply embedded within the complicated structures of both art and fashion is the notion of identity. Within this context, Patterson places dancehall style right where it shines most brightly – front stage and center. Of course, there is a lot more going on in the work than ‘simple dancehall pageantry’. Intricate patterns of identity are found in the glittering details that are meticulously hand-sewn into massive installations that rip dancehall style apart at the seams, offering up new and contradictory perspectives surrounding notions of gender, beauty and masculinity.
While Liza Lou became famous for transforming well known cultural symbols into extraordinary objects and magnificent installations, doing with Tide, Budweiser and Barbie, what Warhol did with the Brillo box and the Campbell’s soup can, Patterson hones in on the specifics of Jamaican dancehall culture, with Vybz Kartel, Bounty Killer and Shabba Ranks as likely suspects in her investigation of a wide range of identity issues that typically challenge preconceived notions of beauty, gender, sexuality and race. Most importantly, she unveils some of the fundamental driving factors behind the primping, preening and peacocking that is integral to dancehall culture. If Liza Lou captured everyone’s attention by transforming the mundane into the dazzling, Ebony G. Patterson is well on her way to becoming equally renowned for pimping up the bling.
In a statement about her own work, Ebony G. Patterson explains it succinctly:
My ongoing body of work explores constructions of the masculine within popular culture - while using Jamaican dancehall culture as a platform for this discourse. My works seeks to measure the masculine by looking at how popular culture has contributed to these transformations. The early work looked at the fashionable practice of skin bleaching, followed by investigations of so-called ‘bling culture’ and its relationship to the masculine within an urban context. While still making references to dancehall culture, my work raises larger questions about beauty, gender ideals and constructs of masculinity within so-called ‘popular black culture’. It examines the similarities and differences between ‘camp aesthetics’– the use of feminine gendered adornment - in the construct of the urban masculine within popular culture. This body of work raises questions about body politics, performance of gender, gender and beauty, beauty and stereotyping, race and beauty, and body and ritual.
Throughout her work Ebony G. Patterson makes the invisible visible, pushing this idea to the utmost extreme to the extent that the final result almost morphs into camouflage. The implications of this tension between the visible and invisible are crucial to her work. Works such as Trump, Stump and Dominoes, 2014, featured in Jamaican Routes, or Lily, Carnation and Rose Budz, 2014 occupy the space with a glittering sea of seemingly innocent details, including flowers, toys, dolls, baby shoes and party clothes. These shimmering, sparkling works immediately come across as almost celebratory. To the contrary, they are based on crime scene photos. What might seem like an unlikely source of inspiration is precisely what anchors Patterson’s work within a serious critical framework.
Beyond the overwhelming visual impact, Ebony G. Patterson’s work reveals the complicated politics of a hypervisual negotiation for visibility. She captures our attention with pure optical overload, and subsequently forces us to consider and reconsider a whole range of topics that relate to gender, race, beauty and sexuality. For instance, the flamboyantly dressed men in her large-scale installations challenge traditional conceptions of masculinity and femininity. Ultimately, she demands our attention in very much the same way that dancehall participants compete for the spotlight by making themselves visible. These guys are all dolled-up in flowery over-the-top outfits that, from a conservative perspective, would be considered effeminate. This is the very distinct visual currency used to buy and secure visibility within male-dominated dancehall culture, where the ultimate badge of masculinity is actually unabashedly feminine.
André Woolery’s work is similarly entrenched in dancehall culture. In a recent statement about his own work he explains, “My subject matter is the exploration of Black identity, culture and history. Too often the narratives surrounding Black experience and existence are undocumented, altered or one-dimensional. What it means to be Black is not static or a monolithic term that has to succumb to historical context. Blackness links the experiences of the African diaspora so it remains a dynamic and moving target. I want to create visual language that defines who we are through identity, captures our power through culture, and defines our paths through history.”
I can almost hear Barkley L. Hendricks’ wise, articulate voice in those words, which reminds me that there are also some interesting similarities between Hendricks’ Passion Dancehall series and André Woolery’s Freedom of Expression series. As one of the foremost American painters of our time, Barkley L. Hendricks’ work has become a source of inspiration for some of the hottest young artists today, such as Kehinde Wiley and Jeff Sonhouse. His iconic portraits stand out in their grandeur, with a sumptuousness and attention to detail similar to Renaissance masters. With the talent of a master painter and an eye for style comparable to a high fashion photographer, Hendricks creates cool, ethereal portraits that capture the individual presence and attitude of his subjects. Hendricks’ painterly skill is coupled with humor, subtle irony, and a healthy dose of rebelliousness that serves to question and challenge all kinds of preconceived notions and stereotypes. It’s worth mentioning that Hendricks, although he is not Jamaican, has spent a considerable amount of time in Jamaica over the course of the past 30 years and has a true and nuanced understanding of Jamaican culture, as seen in his Passion Dancehall series in particular.
While André Woolery’s Freedom of Expression series bears similarity to Barkley L. Hendricks’ Passion Dancehall series, Woolery’s paintings lack nothing in terms of originality. The divas in his paintings come across, first and foremost, as proud individuals. This is fashion with an attitude as it plays out in full dancehall style, where plunging cleavage, tight-fitting jeans, flashy jewelry and dangerously high-heels are pretty much the norm for women. What makes it so interesting is how Woolery succeeds in capturing all this in such an elegant and respectful manner. While Hendricks’ paintings reveal every sexy detail between couples on the dance floor, and are undeniably powerful in their own right, Woolery’s paintings fully embrace dancehall fashion in a somewhat less provocative manner. These portraits are all about attitude, and the enviable confidence of street style at its best, reminiscent of South African artist Nontsikelelo Veleko’s iconic portraits of urban youth in Johannesburg. These kinds of connected voices are quite relevant to Woolery’s approach to contemporary art practice. He speaks about placing emphasis on a collective perspective that engages with what it means to be Black through a cross pollination of Black perspectives, and this is precisely what he achieves through his work as an artist.
In Leasho Johnson’s ongoing investigation of Jamaican dancehall culture he pumps up the volume with brightly colored works that practically jump out from the wall, making us think twice about what we are looking at, both visually speaking and in terms of content. As a painter, illustrator and designer, Johnson is quite adept at combining elements of graffiti with a Pop Art-inspired aesthetic in his ongoing social commentary of contemporary Jamaican culture. He simultaneously pushes all boundaries while also managing to keep the visual language neat, precise and surprisingly approachable.
His interest in various aspects of dancehall culture such as the highly sexualized and aggressive form of dancing known as ‘daggering’, and the raw, loud, and edgy music associated with ghetto youth culture are translated into complex works that challenge existing hierarchies between ‘high’ and ‘low’, institution and street, and between art and design. The blatantly dirty imagery and what it represents almost seems to contradict his clean and meticulous approach to illustration and painting. His work is imbued with irony and humor that consciously plays with various perceptions and pre-conceived notions about Jamaican culture in a very playful and refreshing way.
Using the visual language of cartoons enables Johnson to approach rather disturbing issues in a very direct manner. The results border on the humorous, conveyed with just enough seriousness to keep it real. Just imagine if the subject matter of Back a Road, 2014 were photographed, painted, or drawn more realistically. The simple neon orange cartoon-like forms somehow transform bawdy and indecent scenes into fun and playful social critique. There is definitely a lot to take in, but don’t be shy. Look carefully and observe every detail, because that’s where you will find the underlying messages that make Johnson’s work pop.
With Back a Road, 2014 the contrast between the flat mural and the three-dimensional sculptures is quite significant. What plays out in the acrylic and cut vinyl mural is amplified in the speakers featured next to the mural. As such, these painted speakers highlight important details that are worthy of emphasis. For instance, the speaker painting Bruck-Out features a woman bending down suggestively in front of a banana leaf, which emphasizes the idea of a banana as a symbol of masculinity, and can also be interpreted as a reference to the banana plantations of colonial Jamaica. Throughout his work, Johnson plays with the hidden and not-so-hidden meanings of the images and titles he choses, heightening the impact through the use of clever wordplay, often borrowed from Jamaican Patois and sometimes taken from the titles of well-known Jamaican dancehall songs. His vibrant visual language typically includes sound system speakers, sugar cane, bananas, banana leaves, dogs in heat, faceless helmet-clad women with huge lips, gyrating and fornicating couples, as well as the occasional pimped-up Red Stripe or liquor bottle. All in all, Leasho Johnson’s works are stunning, but what they depict is not exactly pretty, which is the perfect combination for a contemporary artist who is committed to addressing important social and identity issues throughout his work.
Matthew McCarthy is a street artist, muralist and illustrator with a fascination for Jamaican street signs, old school dancehall illustrations, and global street art movements. He cleverly combines these various sources of inspiration into a comprehensive artistic project that is firmly grounded in urban Kingston with roots that extend in various creative directions. McCarthy, who is also known as ‘Eye-dealist’, is as comfortable creating a live painting on the stage of a Protojé concert as he is spreading words of wisdom through his underground magazine Regal Zeen, or collaborating with other artists to implement street art as a tool for societal change.
As an artist who actively engages with the community outside of the art world, he is committed to art that is made for and speaks from the streets. Although his work is influenced by the trend towards politically engaged street art worldwide it continues to grow and flourish locally. His work speaks the language of conscious roots reggae, with just enough of a rebellious and satirical tone to give the red, green and gold added layers of meaning. His distinct visual style is not only inspired by reggae consciousness, it actually embodies its principles. With social consciousness, collaborative creative practice and a desire to create change as three of his fundamental ideals, Matthew McCarthy is more than an artist who happens to be interested in the visual culture of reggae; his work fully embraces its highest ideals.
As with many of the artists featured in the exhibition, Matthew McCarthy’s work is driven by social critique and a youthful dissatisfaction with the systems that structure our social reality. Collaborative art practice is at the core of his creativity, which contributes to making his work highly relevant within a contemporary global context that extends beyond the art world. He is dedicated to creating change on the grassroots level to the extent that this influences each carefully chosen word and phrase and every cartoon-like illustration. On the same note, this sets the tone for his various interventions and punctuates every aspect of social commentary that runs throughout his work. McCarthy is driven by clearly defined ideals that he sums up beautifully in a description of the Paint Jamaica urban renewal project, “Walls that once bore the marks of opposing political parties, fuelling the negative aspects of urban tribalism are now transformed into mediums of artistic expression. My work looks at issues as well as the strengths of how we connect in our social spaces.”
Matthew McCarthy’s Regal Zeen is an integral part of his art practice. Regal Zeen is a print and online ‘zine’ that makes regular interventions into Jamaica’s social and artistic environments. There is an interesting double entendre at play here. A ‘zine’ is understood as an alternative magazine or newspaper published outside of mainstream media, typically printed on a photocopy machine, with an unpolished layout and bold designs. In this case, the word has been adapted to ‘zeen’, which means ‘OK’ in Jamaican Patois. According to McCarthy, Regal Zeen manifested out of the need to establish a sustainable and artistic lifestyle archive among young like-minded creative individuals, with the greater intention of inspiring a productive change in the environment, and represents a significant shift towards increased social consciousness. Indeed, Regal Zeen is a vital part of McCarthy’s generous approach to contemporary art practice that is fuelled and driven by pure reggae consciousness.
Perry Henzell’s classic 1972 film The Harder They Come, starring and featuring the music of reggae legend Jimmy Cliff, has maintained its position through the years as the most well known Jamaican film worldwide. The movie conveyed the crime-ridden atmosphere of Kingston in the seventies and captured people’s hearts with the infectious lyrics and rhythm of its classic reggae soundtrack. Storm Saulter’s 2011 film Better Mus’ Come is also set during the seventies when Kingston was caught in the crossfire of politically fueled gang warfare. Straight out of jail, the main character Ricky becomes drawn into partisan fighting between the ruling People’s National Party and the Jamaica Labor Party. Adding to his struggle, Ricky’s romance with Kemala is also threatened by the pervasive atmosphere of violence that looms over Kingston. The narrative culminates in a scene inspired by the Green Bay Massacre of 1978, in which soldiers killed several suspected gang members. It’s an intense visual journey into a particularly tumultuous time in Jamaican history.
In addition to a special screening of Better Mus’ Come at Nordic Black Theatre the exhibition features two additional works by Storm Saulter that give a sense of the full range of his practice as a visual artist. Similar to how the New York-based artist Andrew Dosunmu works freely between the worlds of art, fashion and music, Saulter’s videos and photographs balance perfectly between the worlds of music and art. Few filmmakers have made an equally captivating music video as Storm Saulter’s take on Chronixx and Protojé’s hugely successful hit-song Who Knows. Saulter’s ability to translate a massive hit into an interesting visual narrative certainly contributed to it spreading like wildfire beyond the shores of Jamaica.
Storm Saulter’s work reads like a top-ten list of the hottest names on the island, and directs attention towards some of the fresh young voices that are following in Bob Marley’s footsteps. All in all, Saulter’s work reveals his obvious understanding of the personalities behind the people he chooses to photograph or film whether a talented musician or the fastest runner on the planet. Further anchoring Storm Saulter’s position as an artist that has one foot set firmly in the music world and the other in the art world, Jamaican Routes also features Dark Morass, a collaborative work between Storm Saulter and visual artist Rodell Warner.
References to the culture and history of Jamaica are a recurring source of inspiration for Cosmo Whyte. Whether he is working with photography, performance, video, installation, or works on paper, he approaches topics linked to a shared Jamaican cultural inheritance in ways that are universally relevant. Among his most striking works is the diptych drawing Ginal , based on the famous photograph of the main character Ivanhoe Martin in the film The Harder They Come, in which he poses defiantly as a fashionable ‘rude boy’ and gunman. The work appropriates a very specific detail from Perry Henzell’s famous film that is immediately recognizable to most Jamaicans. Choosing to create a drawing out of such a familiar image without it coming across as derivative or outdated was certainly no easy task. Yet, he proves his artistic talent by appropriating this iconic image of Ivanhoe and turning it into a fresh and relevant contemporary artwork.
As significant as these references are, the power of Cosmo Whyte’s diptych also transcends its cultural specificity. From a strictly formal perspective this meticulously drawn work is enough to secure his position as a highly talented artist. He demonstrates a keen understanding of drawing techniques on a par with the best contemporary artists anywhere. He seems equally as conscious of the power of an eraser as Rauschenberg so famously was, and is clearly aware of the effect of each and every line and detail. Beyond the subtle nuances in shadows and tones and the stark contrast between light and dark, Ginal conveys a sense of movement that is further emphasized in the shift from one panel to the next. What is clearly defined in the fist panel is subsequently deconstructed, twisted and abstracted in the next, resulting in a drawing that conveys the intensity of Ivanhoe’s trials and tribulations in the film.
Extending the cultural references to Africa and the United States, Jamaican Routes features Cosmo Whyte’s new sound-based work The Well Traveled African, 2015. The installation includes a traditional Jamaican pushcart with speakers that play an extended soundtrack compiled of samplings of reggae and dancehall music mixed in with news bytes and fragments from sociopolitical speeches. This little pushcart spreads its message with the force of a full Jamaican sound system, with emphasis on the politics of race in particular. We enter into occupied territory, where the sweet voice of Dennis Brown and Augustus Pablo’s soulful melodica compete with Stephen Marley, Capleton and Sizzla who steal the ‘rock stone’ from Bob Marley’s ‘Talking Blues’ and turn it into their own pillow. This is pure rebel music that echoes all around the world. Listen carefully and you just might hear the voices of great intellectuals such as Stuart Hall, James Baldwin, Marcus Garvey and Fela Kuti. The Well Traveled African is one of three parts in a larger body of work that also includes a stacked sound system (Wake the Town and Tell the People) and a photograph of a handheld megaphone (Town Crier). While the pushcart and sound system are immediately associated with Jamaica, the megaphone widens the geographic context of the work to also include West Africa, where its use has gradually replaced the traditional use of drums. These components come together as the core aspects of a body of work that, according to Cosmo Whyte, “addresses issues surrounding diaspora identity at a time when the racial climate in the US homogenizes the black experience both for the need of solidarity and oppression.”
This is precisely the kind of political and social engagement that runs throughout Cosmo Whyte’s work. He fits into the category of cosmopolitan artists who typically move back and forth, up and down, between here and there, constantly navigating the landscapes of their mind that are rooted in multiple locations and cultures. These artists are often influenced by memory and driven by shared histories and dreams that consistently translate to a rich visual language that has no geographical boundaries. Many of them navigate the ever-shifting terrain of dislocation, defined by past and present, here and there, dream and reality. This is the kind of work that encourages us to reflect upon the specificity of personal experience as understood within a historical context that is deeply imbedded within the trajectory of postcolonial discourse, and is as relevant in relation to Cosmo Whyte’s work as it is to several of the other participating artists in the exhibition.
Stuart Hall was not the first to discuss the concept of roots versus routes, but his specific implementation of and elaboration upon the inherent difference between these two words is a topic that he discussed throughout his career. In relation to what Stuart Hall observed as a deep concern about identity and ones relation to the present and the past, he posited that this relationship could not be accurately expressed in terms of a return to roots. Stuart Hall’s approach to cultural identity theory, influenced as it was by concepts of fluidity, heterogeneity and hybridity, was a breath of fresh air for everyone who felt suffocated by the idea of cultural identity as strictly defined by shared similarities and a fixed, unchanging relation to history. In his seminal essay ‘Cultural Identity and Diaspora’, Stuart Hall laid the groundwork for the kind of critical thinking that would come to define his work as a leading cultural theorist, describing cultural identity not only in terms of shared similarity but also in terms of difference.
There is, however, a second, related but different view of cultural identity. This second position recognizes that, as well as the many points of similarity, there are also critical points of deep and significant difference which constitute ’what we really are’; or rather – since history has intervened – ’what we have become’. We cannot speak for very long, with any exactness, about ’one experience, one identity’, without acknowledging its other side – the ruptures and discontinuities which constitute, precisely, the Caribbean’s ’uniqueness’. Cultural identity, in this second sense, is a matter of ’becoming’ as well as of ’being’. It belongs to the future as much as to the past. It is not something that already exists, transcending place, time, history and culture. Cultural identities come from somewhere, have histories. But, like everything, which is historical, they undergo constant transformation. Far from being eternally fixed in some essentialised past, they are subject to the continuous ’play’ of history, culture and power. Far from being grounded in a mere ’recovery’ of the past, which is waiting to be found, and which, when found, will secure our sense of ourselves into eternity, identities are the names we give to the different ways we are positioned by, and position ourselves within, the narratives of the past.
Stuart Hall stated that cultural identity is “always constructed through memory, fantasy, narrative and myth. Cultural identities are the points of identification, the unstable points of identification or suture, which are made, within the discourses of history and culture. Not an essence but a positioning. Hence, there is always a politics of identity, a politics of position, which has no absolute guarantee in an unproblematic, transcendental ’law of origin’.” This is precisely where many of the artists in this exhibition are positioned. Perhaps not so much ‘positioned’ as in a state of transition and growth, which is inspired both by historical and contemporary issues, and equally linked to the past and present as to the future.
Camille Chedda investigates themes of identity, class and race in work that speaks about notions of disposability and temporality. Her innovative approach to painting and drawing often involves the use of common materials such as garbage bags that she transforms into intriguing mixed-media installation works. As she explains it, “In my work, the bag functions in varied ways depending on the type of bag used, where it is placed and how it has been manipulated. The portrait subject, whether it has been painted or drawn on the bag, often functions as an object or commodity, which inevitably expires with time and display.”
For Wholesale Degradables Camille Chedda implemented the kind of cheap plastic bags that are prevalent throughout the Caribbean. In Jamaica these are known as ‘scandal bags’. Typically, these are black and opaque, thereby making it possible to conceal their contents. Although predominantly used for carrying groceries, criminals also use ‘scandal bags’ to conceal weapons, drugs, stolen goods and even body parts. Chedda is interested in the idea of these bags’ role as a keeper of a person’s social identity. With these ideas as her point of departure she painted portraits on translucent bags, providing a window into various identities. Each portrait also functions as an object, as a container of identity. Of course these bags are not only containers they also represent waste. ‘This Bag is 100% Degradable’ is stamped on the bottom of some of the bags—not biodegradable, but degradable.
If these bags are to be understood as containers of identity, the reference also seems to extend to the individuals whose portraits are depicted both on and in the bags. Clearly, to be degraded is to be shamed or humiliated, yet these individuals appear relaxed and nonchalant; at least the ones on the outside – the visible ones. In stark contrast, the portraits painted on the inside come across as decidedly less at ease, less comfortable, less visible. Their identities are concealed, similar to the objects that might be hidden within these bags. This subtle play between visibility and invisibility, between what is perceptible and what isn’t makes Wholesale Degradables resonate on many levels. By the time these bags finally do disappear and dissolve, perhaps beyond the lifetimes of these individuals, their identities will also be erased, creating a profound visual metaphor for temporality.
Andrea Chung takes us far away from Jamaica to an island off the East coast of Africa with her installation Sink & Swim. Chung’s work typically examines the complexities of previously colonized countries. She often makes use of archival material such as photographs or tourist brochures to reconstruct critical narratives that challenge preconceived notions and misconceptions about a particular culture, equally relevant in relation to Mauritius as it is to Jamaica. For instance, by manipulating tourism imagery she investigates how island nations are sold to tourists through picturesque, idealized fantasy. She thereby inspires us to question fiction versus reality as we try to make sense of these conflicting narratives. Environmental issues, the power structures of labor, and an exploration of migration patterns are also recurring topics that tend to influence her work. As such, she consistently exposes the bare and complicated roots of a particular place, revealing the extent to which certain cultures have been created through the influence of what she describes as multiple ‘mother cultures’.
To create Sink & Swim she cast liquor bottles out of sugar to reference a method of fishing used by some Mauritian fishermen. The bottles are hung in the space accompanied by small replicas of fishing tackle, wrapped and tangled in fishing line, and left to the elements of the space. Depending on the environment where the work is created, the bottles will crack, shatter, and slowly disappear over time, resulting in a strong symbol for the disappearance of both a community and a trade. Beyond the visual impact and fragility of the work, there are numerous subtexts that give the work additional impact. Andrea Chung’s description of the historical events that inspired this work sheds important light on the installation, “After the abolition of slavery in Mauritius, many newly freed slaves (also known as Creoles) became fishermen and subsequently established small fishing villages, particularly in the southern part of the island, rather than return to the cane fields to work for their former enslavers. Many of these fishing villages remain today and these fishing traditions have been passed down for generations. Unfortunately the trade is now threatened due to over-fishing.” Although this relates specifically to Mauritius, it is an overly familiar narrative throughout the world.
What might be described as the reconstruction of picturesque landscapes seen throughout her work brings to mind what bell hooks describes as diasporic landscapes of longing. In a text about the work of Carrie Mae Weems bell hooks discusses the return to a dreamed-about home and the notion that every bit of history and experience is seen as essential to the unfolding of one’s destiny. She continues with a discussion surrounding the commonality of longing, of the shared experience of yearning for connection, for home Africa as present and yet far away, as both real and mythic. As an artist born in the US of Jamaican and Trinidadian heritage, who is clearly interested in and influenced by more than one culture, it is easy to see how aspects of cultural connectivity and longing contribute to Andrea Chung’s unique artistic perspective.
Olivia McGilchrist explores translocation and physical expressions of various emotional states in photographs, performances and videos that relate directly to issues of cultural identity. She frequently implements her alter ego ‘whitey’ in her artistic investigation of Jamaica, which she describes as a space of utter difference. Born in Kingston to a French mother and a Jamaican father, and educated in France and the UK, her work is directly influenced by an ongoing exploration of her own cultural identity. In general terms, she incorporates her body in her own practice, often repositioning it within the context of a picturesque tropical space. She describes her approach as a means of questioning the shifting spaces in which she appears to belong, from the female body in a postmodern space to a visibly white postcolonial creole identity.
For Otherness, an ongoing project that began in 2013, she collaborated with the octogenarian Guyanese-Jamaican actress, playwright and storyteller Jean Small. This body of work deconstructs the physicality of postcolonial bodies through videos that are presented as an installation that evokes a live performance, either directly in the space or re-presented as an interactive element in the space. As such, she conveys thoughts about identity and race in a very direct and compelling manner. In this two-screen projection the visual language of otherness is defined formally by clear, strong contrasts that emphasize the topics of identity and race that are addressed through her work. The visual details of her clean and precise formal approach have a strong representational function that gradually emerges in the slow, measured performance that plays out between Jean Small and Olivia McGilchrist.
Otherness is carefully set up in a manner that places viewers in an indefinable space in between, which thereby intensifies our experience of the work. The fluid and measured push and pull between the two women turns into a captivating performance that speaks beyond the personal implications of McGilchrist’s own role in the work. In this graceful and gentle meeting between two souls there is a sense of something unresolved that lingers in the space. As viewers, we are physically situated in a space of duality and opposites that inspires us to consider the significance of each and every glance and movement. Similar to complete strangers who eventually become friends, an initial sense of confusion, skepticism, and possibly even fear are subtly transformed to understanding, compassion, intimacy and playfulness. We focus on the hands and faces of each, both separately and as one, as the camera spans back and forth, up, down and around these two women. We play an active role becoming the ‘other’ suspended in an ever-shifting space of identity as we search to understand the specifics of each individual and their relation to one another.
Drawings are an important aspect of Oneika Russell’s work, which she often integrates into installation format. This is particularly evident in Notes to You, which I had the pleasure of seeing for the first time when it was installed at Devon House as part of the Jamaica Biennial, 2014. It’s difficult to imagine a more ideal site-specific setting for this work. Russell’s small works on paper heightened the air of nostalgia that already lingers in the air of this historical mansion. Walking into the furnished bedroom to discover small notecards with colorful drawings and notes felt like I was being let in on an intimate secret. The notecards were carefully placed around the room, not hanging on the walls, but tucked among the sheets of the canopy bed, dangling from the mosquito netting, and snuck between a perfume bottle and a silver brush on the commode. Within this particular setting, the drawings seemed caught in limbo between past and present, evoking strong associations to themes related to memory, loss and displacement.
The short hand-written texts on the inside of each notecard create an intriguing play between text and image that facilitates the search for underlying meaning. The notes range from highly dramatic; “You ran away like a wild animal” to melancholic; “you learned to keep your head down and your heart shut and your scope small”. One could easily get swept away in the romanticism of it all if it weren’t for the fact that these are more than delicate little drawings. Although there is beauty in every detail, there is something else looming in the shadows, which gives the work a necessary forcefulness and edge. These aren’t simply portraits of some lovelorn woman, or traces of something that may have transpired in this particular place. These drawings touch upon something that reaches beyond the specificity of a particular time and place.
Looking carefully at the portraits we see faces that tentatively peek through the foliage and flowers. We also see faces that are decorated and dotted to the extent that the most predominant facial features are the eyes. Saturated colors and geometric patterns cover many of the faces, transforming them into powerful masked individuals. These come across as proud, confident, and imposing. Alternately, the faces fade into a sea of grey and white and almost verge on abstraction. As such, these portraits balance a very fine line between visibility and invisibility. However, it shouldn’t go unnoticed that these portraits depict different qualities in the same individual. Whether seen carefully peeking out from behind verdant leaves, or completely hidden behind a pale greenish-gray pattern these portraits are clearly about presence and absence, as well as the idea that ones identity is constantly shifting and shaped by many factors, including environment and experience, as well as cultural and natural surroundings. With this work we discover the unique confidence that seems to arise from the constant restructuring of one’s identity within the fluid and ever-changing context of synthesizing past and present, here and there, dream and reality.
Marlon James, not to be confused with the award-winning author by the same name, is a prominent Jamaican photographer who resides in Trinidad. He is committed to straight photography and creates striking images that command the viewer’s full and undivided attention. His experience as a fashion photographer contributes to an open-minded approach that is coupled with an unfailing ability to connect to his subjects. He has an unusual talent for finding beauty in the ordinary and mundane, and seems to enjoy challenging traditional notions of beauty and power. Even the artists, filmmakers and musicians that he photographs, who are celebrities in their own right, are chosen as his subjects not because they are stars but because they are people whom he knows well. First and foremost, he is interested in delving beneath the surface of his subjects and to have them unveil in front of the lens rather than to dress up and pose for the camera.
These portraits capture our attention with the power of a glamorous image of a supermodel, extending beyond the limits of traditional fashion photography and inspiring us to consider the realness and humanity of the subjects instead. Marlon James has a keen eye for rough, urban beauty, consistently conveyed in a photographic approach that strips his subjects bare. As it happens, several of the portraits in Jamaican Routes feature participating artists in the exhibition, an aspect that hints at the interconnectivity between the artists in the exhibition.
Marlon James’ portraits of Camille Chedda, Ebony G. Patterson and Storm Saulter convey an attitude and presence that is difficult to capture in a photograph without seeming staged and posed. The fact that James really knows his subjects somehow enables him to strip his compositions down to the absolute essentials. Yes, these artists are budding stars, but there is something more genuine and more interesting at play in these ‘bad-ass’ portraits. Ordinary person or superstar, friend or foe, unknown or famous, James’ photographs are all about substance. Equally impressive are his portraits of dancehall legend Yellowman and drummer Akiri Cooper. Contrasts between shadow and light add dramatic effect to portraits that convey real presence, which has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with style. With the exception of Yellowman, who is all decked out in a three-piece suit and hat, it’s interesting that although the subjects are wearing little more than a tank top, at most, their inner style really shines through. Gisele is possibly the most stunning example. She sits regally on a worn upholstered chair as if she were the queen of Jamaica, yet she is dressed in simple running shorts, a tank top and flip-flops. It’s impossible not to notice the scars on her arm, but this doesn’t detract from her beauty in any way because she possesses the kind of real beauty that comes from inner strength and dignity.
It is important to keep in mind that the works featured in Jamaican Routes stem from completely different experiences and perspectives. The photographs, installations, films, sound works, paintings and drawings included in the exhibition reflect both similarities and differences in cultural identity, visualized though various formal and conceptual approaches. Keeping an expansive notion of cultural identity in mind extends Jamaican Routes in as many directions as the roots and routes that inspired some of these works. If these artists are not easily pinpointed it’s because they are part of something that is fluid, changing, and rapidly expanding into the larger framework of international contemporary art practice. As such, Jamaican Routes moves back and forth, between cultures and time zones, shifting between past, present and future, revealing the individual stories and shared histories of a global narrative. Borrowing from U-Roy’s classic seventies dancehall hit ‘Wake the Town and Tell the People’, it’s time to wake the world and tell the people about these young contemporary artists who are coming your way.