I was recently in Jamaica on a business trip. I attended the Destination Experience a Visionary Summit, styled as a mini Davos (in the making) held in Kingston. Before heading to Kingston, I flew into Montego Bay and later traveled on the beautiful North Coast to Ocho Rios (“Ochi”), and further east to Annotto Bay, a small costal town in the parish of St Mary.

The island’s infrastructure has greatly improved. The oxtail, jerk pork and chicken remain foods to live for. At some point I will likely blog about Jamaica’s improving economic climate, and its increasingly undeserved reputation for crime and violence. Yes, it has high murder rate, but generally no less safe than other tourist destinations. That is for another blog; today, I want to share chance meetings with artists that illustrated man’s desire, need, and ability to seek self-understanding, meaning, inspiration, and belonging through creating and sharing art, regardless of our means and circumstances.

So, as I was saying, on my way to the conference in Kingston, I spent two days in “Ochi”. Despite my sister’s admonitions to take care, I walked, like a local, to the bustling, crowded, and slightly chaotic center of town daily, early and often. To my surprise I found an artist who started a gallery. He was not a privileged soul. I came to understand that he was a Rasta, was once homeless, who had moved from a rural town named Highgate to Ochi, and its was his 3rd try at running a gallery. His motivation was a deep need and want to connect and provide Afro/Jamaican-centric images for his people, common, poor (in means) people. He has moved away from his original love, mastery of charcoal, and technical works, for more commercial “ital” images, focused on Africa, self-consciousness, and self-identity.

Tupac Vision Version, Granville Graham — *Tupac Vision Version,* Granville Graham

He is using art to find and fulfill himself. I asked him why he abandoned the more formal, studied, artistic for the commercial. He said he did not know, but I pressed him, and could tell there was more. My guess the art he was “living” did not mirror his self-identity and his purpose on earth. When he moved away from the hotels and stopped doing portraits, he had to be more “commercial” to make a living, but as I listened to his chat with a “ital rasta” customer, money, was not his focus. The gallery was overwhelming, images close to images, from top to bottom and all around the room…pictures blocking pictures. It was neat but not categorized, and the contrast between his early works and recent pieces was striking. I shared some observations about his shop. On my second visit he had taken my suggestions to “to heart”. He implemented changes and now aspires to put on a show in three years.

Zandy Chani Cold, Granville Graham — *Zandy Chani Cold*, Granville Graham

I asked to purchase two early charcoal works on paper, TuPac and Zandy Chani Cold and two recent works on canvas, Bolt Up and Paint of the Melanin Smile Lady. He did not want to sell the Tupac image. He was holding on to his past, a piece that illustrated his craft, hours of hours perfecting techniques, perhaps a “membership ticket” with his peers. I could tell he cherished the images. I shared with him the Ann Tanksley view that letting go of a treasured piece might be a source of new creativity and avenues. He said, “I did not think about it that way”, and said “it’s time”. What an affirmation of the blog. Damn!

Now for the really, really deep part for me. It is hard from me to do it justice with a few words. Well, there was a young boy, maybe 5, 6 or 7, he seemed to be experiencing some developmental challenges; friendly but with uncommon behaviors for his age. His front teeth were rotted (not common in today’s Jamaica, I think). On returning to pick up TuPac, the little boy became concerned, and alarmed, he became visibly upset when the artist took TuPac off the wall. He kept on saying, “Where is TuPac, I want Tupac”. Then he turned to me, knowing it was now mine, and he said; “You took TuPac! I want TuPac! And in what I interpreted to be a coping mechanism, he said, “Give me money!...I will kill you”… though he clearly had no real grasp of money (I learned he could not find $100 given to him). The boy had become attached to the object.

I became alarmed and sad, as I had taken the boy’s comfort blanket, and while I was not “singing and dancing”, I thought aloud how his priceless objects in places like New York or London would attract a much different valuation. I could not possible part with it, perhaps ever, the artist loved it, the son of his friend considered TuPac his friend. I thought of consoling him, but stopped; at least I could not cause more “harm” with further conversation. I shifted to building rapport with him… as I, on a number of occasions physically shielded him from his dad who had an old fashioned restrictive disciplinarian style, children should be seen and not heard. The boy was just acting as a child, in the presence of possible new friends, including the daughter of “School Boy”, the driver who took me on a day trip to “country”. The girl was around the boy’s age, well-adjusted and charming.

The dad later told me the boy was afraid of TuPac, until he grew to love TuPac. I probed the boy gently and persistently until he conceded, “TuPac is my friend”. I was floored. In the US, and probably Jamaica, if they had more resources, the boy most likely could benefit from social intervention. For the first time collecting, I was the interloper…a treasure, a good deal came with tough baggage.

Granville Graham

Art Connections

In closing, I want to share a little about Annotto Bay; it is the town of my birth, and holds claim to the artist Alexander Cooper, one of the first graduates of the famed Edna Manley School of Art. As it turned out, on a visit to my family home, an old neighbor recognized me and said I had to visit the local artist Henry Lowe.

Landscape by Henry Lowe

The two abstracts are murals done by Henry Lowe’s art students at the Annotto Bay High School, St. Mary, Jamaica

Henry Lowe

In a future blog, I hope to feature Mr. Lowe’s works. But for now I will leave you with the images of two of his son’s, Henry Grandison, works. Henry like his dad is an artist, and soon a newly minted graduate of the Edna Manley School at art.

Henry Grandison