Preserving Jamaica’s Artistic Heritage

canopy figure
Jamaican Taino – Figure with canopy (facing left) © The Trustees of the British Museum

This post is adapted from the paper I have recently presented at the “Regional Workshop on the Conventions on the Illicit trafficking of Cultural Objects”, which was hosted by the Jamaican Ministry of Culture, Gender, Entertainment and Sport. This workshop was held at the Jamaica Pegasus, from March 2-5, 2020. Among the topics for discussion were: Jamaica’s restitution claims, the steps required for Jamaica to become signatory to the relevant treaties and conventions, international best practices, and measures to mitigate the illicit trade and any other inappropriate or undesirable export of cultural goods. These measures include the proposed establishment of a Register of Significant Cultural Goods which would be subject to certain restrictions with regards to trade and export.

In my presentation, I moved away from customary focus on antiquities in discussions on illicit trade and restitution, and focused instead on modern and even contemporary art. You may ask, why bring up contemporary art in such a discussion, as this is a field where cultural and market values are still being negotiated? History has shown us that this may happen very quickly and that a lot of what has been lost in terms of already recognized cultural heritage occurred because its value was not recognized in its own time and the necessary steps were not taken to protect it then. Discussions about cultural heritage preservation cannot neglect the present or, for that matter, the future. It must be informed by a keen eye on changing cultural dynamics and new developments in creative production, so that wise, well-informed decisions are made about what will be the Significant Cultural Objects of the future.

My focus in this paper is on the issues that surround private art collecting in Jamaica, and some of the activities, services and problems that surround it, particularly the fraught dynamic between private art collecting and public cultural preservation. While most of our discussion in the MCGES workshop was, by virtue of its focus on international conventions and treaties, concerned with cross-border transactions, I spoke mainly about domestic dynamics. My position is that we cannot discuss legal and policy frameworks, restitution issues, and ethical standards with regards to the international trade in cultural property, without considering the problems that occur on the domestic level, as the two are deeply connected. Given certain recent events and developments here in Jamaica, and elsewhere in the Caribbean, there is some urgency there.

A significant part of the problem in the Jamaican context, and in much of the rest of the Caribbean, stems from the informality of the local art market, of which a significant part is entirely off the record and undocumented. This means that much of the trade in art falls outside of the tax net, which is an issue in and of itself, but the secrecy that surrounds the art market in Jamaica also means that proof of ownership is often lacking and that it is very difficult to establish and document provenance, let alone to keep any tabs on how Jamaican art circulates locally or in the international market. This lack of transparency leads to the potential loss of important works of art for Jamaican public collections and makes ventures that may help to mitigate any illicit international trade, such as the proposed Registry of Significant Cultural Objects, very difficult to implement.

Needless to say, this informality also opens the door wide for all sorts of other art market problems, such as art theft and forgeries, and also facilitates the potential involvement of money laundering activities. While the latter is hard to substantiate, it is well documented that art theft has occurred on a number of occasions in Jamaica in the last two decades. It has involved the theft of work by certain well-recognized, up-market artists, in heists that were obviously carefully planned and deliberately targeted, but also more random and pedestrian motivations, such as the scrap metal trade. Forgeries have in recent years also occurred with some frequency in Jamaica, although it is not clear whether they originate locally or are created elsewhere – I suspect that it is a combination of both. From what I have seen recently I have good reason to believe that high quality forgeries of the work of certain major Jamaican artists are again circulating, locally and potentially also internationally. If there is no practice of producing and expecting proper provenance documentation, such fraud becomes a lot easier and is much harder to control.

None of this is in the interest of the preservation, reputation, and good management of Jamaica’s cultural heritage, of course, or of the general health and welfare of its art world. There is an urgent need for formalization, documentation, and judicious regulation of the local art market, without lapsing into prohibitive over-regulation, as well as education about why sensible documentation is beneficial. Artists, for instance, often resist the notion that they, too, might have to pay taxes but fail to understand that it is much harder to insist on intellectual property benefits, such as resale royalties, if first sales are not on the record. Art collectors, on the other hand, typically take the view that their holdings are a strictly private matter and that making such holdings available in the public domain is discretionary. That their holdings may be part of the collective cultural property of Jamaica is only rarely a consideration – there is a difference between moral or cultural and legal rights here, but both matter.

Ironically, it is impossible to sell any real estate or even the cheapest, most run-down second-hand car without a proper title, and these are mechanisms that are quite well-regulated in Jamaica, but works of art that sell for prices that may rival those of the country’s omnipresent luxury cars change hands without any documentation of the transaction or the new ownership – it is privileged knowledge to those few who might know, which is not good enough for art works of significant importance. It might be helpful to introduce a formal titling system for duly authenticated art works over a certain value, without which no property transfers could take place, and that such titled art works should also be subject to the sort of export permitting similar to what for instance exists in Cuba and other countries that take their cultural heritage seriously, with a provision for a right of first refusal for the relevant public collecting institutions in the case of permanent exports.

Belisario - Koo Koo Actor-Boy
Isaac Mendez Belisario – Koo-Koo, or Actor Boy, from Sketches of Character, 1837-38

As Kevin Farmer, Deputy Director of the Barbados Museum and Historical Society, pointed out in the workshop, the Barbados National Gallery Act, which provides the legal foundation for the establishment of such an institution, includes a provision to control the export of Bajan art. Unlike Barbados, and the other countries that have such institutions in the region, however, Jamaica has no National Gallery Act – the National Gallery of Jamaica (NGJ) falls under the general provisions of the Institute of Jamaica (IoJ) Act, in which the NGJ is not even mentioned and its functions only most vaguely outlined. There is no provision in the IoJ Act for any controls on the export and local private sale of Jamaican art, for the preservation of significant art works, of the work by a particular artist, of particular categories of art, or of private collections that may be of national import (or for any other cultural objects, for that matter). For now, such powers reside solely with the JNHT, which is preoccupied mainly with monuments, sites, and archaeological artifacts, and only theoretically with the visual arts.

Legal reform is surely needed to address these gaps, whether this is through the JNHT, the IoJ or a proper NGJ act, which is the route I would prefer, as I believe that a specialized approach is needed for the visual arts, as this involves (or should involve!) specialized skill sets. The NGJ is in fact the only such institution in the Caribbean region that is not supported by its own statute and, in my view, this anomaly should have been corrected years ago, as it is detrimental to the institution and its governance, and potentially, even its long-term survival. The institution can cease to exist, or be merged with another museum, with the proverbial stroke of the pen – an earlier post on this subject can be found here.

The informality of the local art market is also a major problem for NGJ acquisitions, although the majority of these have in recent years been from living artists. The ICOM Code of Ethics provides quite clear guidance on the standards that are applicable to museum acquisitions, in terms of the need for title, but it is difficult to enforce this in a context where provenance and ownership documentation are more often than not non-existent. The lack of transparency and any specialized regulatory framework in the Jamaican art market also has other consequences and there is a difficult subject I need to broach here: namely the conflicts that arise from the way in which the NGJ has been interacting with private collectors, which goes well beyond the normal practice of cultivating good relationships with collectors for loans and as potential donors.

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Creative Iconoclasm: What To Do With Those Colonial Monuments? – Part 2

josephine beheaded
Gabriel -Vital Dubray – statue of Empress Josephine (1859), La Savanne, Fort-de-France, Martinique (decapitated in 1991) (Photo: Veerle Poupeye)

This is the second part of a two-part post. Part 1 can be found here.

The Caribbean is replete with statues that represent similar ideas about White Supremacy and Colonialism. Some of these statues date from the Plantation era but others, such as the Columbus Lighthouse in Santo Domingo, which was unveiled in 1992, are of more recent dates and are associated with oppressive political regimes in the postcolonial era. Calls are mounting, as the present upheaval inevitably and necessarily resonates in the Caribbean, to remove several of those.

There is a long-standing campaign, in Barbados, for instance, to remove the statue of Lord Nelson, which stands on what is now called National Heroes Square (formerly Trafalgar Square) in front of the Parliament building and more recently there have also been calls to remove the Queen Victoria and Columbus statues in Jamaica and the Bahamas. Some are of the view, however, that such statues are part of the region’s history and should therefore remain, while others suggest that they should be moved to museums, where they can be more easily contextualized and interpreted. For the latter is one of the problems with public art, in that it is more difficult, without significant interventions, to present such works in a frame that provides a critical context which counters their original, and often still quite effective, propagandist messages.

Errol Ross Brewster - Queen Victoria
Errol Ross Brewster – Exploring Victoria’s Secrets (1981) – all rights reserved by the Artist

There is a fairly long history of protest actions against such statues in the Caribbean, including removal and defacement, which has usually occurred at times of socio-political upheaval. In Georgetown, Guyana, the Queen Victoria statue was dynamited in 1954. As Nigel Westmaas has documented, its head was subsequently re-attached and the statue remained in place until 1970 when Guyana became a Corporate Republic (the country had become independent in 1966). The statue was moved to the Georgetown Botanical Gardens, where it remained for many years. A 1981 photograph by the Guyanese artist Errol Ross Brewster captured a group of children playing and clambering on the statue, with one girl quite irreverently seated on its head, in what was surely an inadvertent but potent anti-colonial statement in and of itself, as it suggests that the Empire the statue once represented had lost its hold over them.

The dynamiting, which only partially damaged the statue – blowing of its head and left arm, along with the scepter and orb – was a protest action against colonial rule, at a time when Guyana was going through a period of leftist political radicalization which was countered with active repression by the colonial authorities (the specific trigger was the 1953 election victory of the radical, anti-colonial People’s Progressive Party). The marble statue, which dates from 1894 and was made by the English artist Henry Richard Hope-Pinker, was restored and reinstalled in 1990 in what may have been a way to suggest that Guyana had moved past its radical phase and was again “open for business” and foreign investment. Its re-installation generated its own debates, but the statue remains in place today, although it was, according to Westmaas, in 2018 splashed with red paint.

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Creative Iconoclasm: What To Do With Those Colonial Monuments? – Part 1

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Edward Colston’s statue being tossed into the River Avon , Bristol, June 7, 2020 (Image source: Wikimedia)

This is the first of the two-part post. Part 2, which can be found here, examines the implications for the Caribbean.

As an art historian and curator, I am supposed to be beholden to the preservation of art and my response to any incident whereby an art work is deliberately damaged or destroyed is expected to be abhorrence and denouncement, with appeals for more conservative approaches such as removal to a museum. There are, however, moments when the destruction, alteration or violent take-down of a work of art has significant symbolic potency, particularly when it involves public art, and may in fact be called for. And in some cases, such interventions become symbolically powerful, performative creative acts in and of themselves, which is the main reason why I am interested in them.

Public monuments, because of their collective symbolic value, their fundamentally propagandist nature and association with power, and their visibility and accessibility in the public domain, often serve as a lightning rod for the social and political frictions that trouble the societies in which they stand. And, irrespective of their historical value and artistic merit (which varies significantly as public statues are often among the most uninspired and conservative works of art), many are indeed very problematic representations that publicly propagate oppressive and obsolete ideas, historical narratives, and power structures. Such monuments are a form of symbolic and representational violence, that is met with retaliatory counter-violence when they are defaced or torn down.

A number of racist and colonialist public statues have been forcibly removed or defaced in recent days during the increasingly widespread Black Lives Matter uprising. Initially, the protests were limited to the US, where several Confederate and colonialist statues have been targeted, but the take-down of such statues has spread to other parts of the globe along with the unrest. Along with the forcible removals, there are also numerous new and revived campaigns and petitions to have certain problematic statues removed and replaced. This widespread iconoclastic fervor — and I do not see that in a negative light — suggests that we are presently dealing with epochal, potentially revolutionary changes. In such contexts, symbolic actions matter a great deal and careful attention has to be paid to what is being said and negotiated in the process.

By far the most publicized and visually eloquent of these take-downs has been the dramatic removal, on June 7, of the statue of the pioneer slaver Edward Colston in Bristol, England, which was taken down from its base, splashed with blood red paint,  rolled down the streets, and dumped into the River Avon by a group of protesters — as several observers have noted, this hauntingly paralleled the manner in which ill or rebellious enslaved persons were thrown overboard on slave-ships, resulting in a kind of symbolic justice.

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Provocations: Navigating The Creative Industries

Charlie Chaplin in Moscow
Still from Charlie Chaplin’s “Modern Times” (1936)

This is the first of a new series of shorter critical interventions on salient issues. The posts will pose questions, rather than to attempt to provide answers, and they are meant to be conversation starters, and comments are welcomed, as usual.

There have been a lot of conversations here in the Caribbean, of late, on Covid-19 and the Cultural Industries, most of them online of course, making use of the dreaded Zoom or other online communication platforms. It is, as such, heartening that there is a fair amount of engagement with how the cultural sector is affected by the cultural crisis, and also that funds are being made available for various remedial projects, from local governmental and non-governmental sources as well as international funders.

Observing some of these events has, however, also been very troubling, for a number of reasons. One is that only very few have involved actual practicing artists (visual, performing, or literary – a broad and diverse group that also includes film and design) and that the discussion has been articulated, led and, indeed, dominated by policy makers, consultants, entrepreneurs, and academics in the field. The other, related concern is that it has illustrated the insufficiently questioned, but deeply entrenched focus on the Cultural Industries, at the expense of more nuanced and contextualized discussions about culture, the arts and artistic practice, which appear to have become marginalized and even ignored in the Cultural Industries debate. And that may well come from not giving sufficient voice to those who are directly involved in and knowledgeable about artistic practice, including those who operate at grassroots level, which has led for such discussions to become woefully disconnected from what should by their foundation, anchor and primary point of reference. This disconnect was certainly evident in a recent discussion on the affiliated term Creatives, on the Critical.Caribbean.Art Facebook site, where a majority of artists expressed reservations about being so labelled and pointedly objected to the “flattening” homogenization of the cultural field this involved.

I will not go into the details of how the Cultural and Creative Industries, and the Cultural and Creative Economies, are variously defined, and the shifts in meaning that occur between these terms — that has already been covered extensively by many others. But it behooves us to remember that the term was introduced by Adorno and Horkheimer in the context of a deep and concerned critique of mass popular culture as propaganda and of the role of these Cultural Industries in Monopoly Capitalism. In its present incarnations, the term and its spin-offs are rooted in the ethos of Neo-liberalism and increasingly, there is a very reductive conflation the monetization and commodification of culture as the primary manner in which cultural production is validated and supported. I prefer the term Creative or Cultural Ecology, as it is a more inclusive terms that de-emphasizes monetization as a primary goal, without disregarding it, and leaves room for and validates a variety of cultural and artistic practices that may not be motivated by profit or entrepreneurship.

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Inside Pandora’s Box: A Few Thoughts about Art in the Age of Corona – Part II

This is the second of a three-part post. Part I can be found here and part III is forthcoming.

Oh shit

In 1961, the then young politician Edward Seaga delivered his seminal speech “The Haves and the Have Nots” in the Jamaican Upper House. Irrespective of how we may feel about the ideological and political path Seaga took subsequently, and his role in how postcolonial wealth and power were consolidated in Jamaica, it was a watershed moment in the country’s political history as it acknowledged, in compelling, sharply drawn terms, the gaping socio-economic divide that shapes Jamaican society. This divide is still active today, and perhaps more entrenched although it has taken different forms, but it is far less acknowledged while we are called to pursue collective mirages of “prosperity.”

The speech came to mind when I read a recent letter to the editor by the Jamaican anthropologist Charles V. Carnegie, who is an avid walker and observer of Kingston’s streets and a passionate advocate for its “walk-foot people” — that diverse group that does not have the privilege of a car, the people who move about in the ambit of the noise, physical danger, and exhaust fumes of the city’s chaotic, traffic-jammed streets, offering various goods and services, begging and hustling, or just trying to get from home, or school, to work and back. In this letter, which was the Letter of the Day in the Jamaica Gleaner of March 27, 2020, Professor Carnegie reported on his conversation with a car-window washer — one of many on Kingston’s major intersections — who complained about the downturn in business because of the reduced traffic and, no doubt, drivers and passengers being reluctant to turn down windows to hand them money for fear of exposure.

From this conversation, it was clear that the young man and his companions did not have a clear understanding of what was going on, in terms of the public health concerns or the social distancing measures. He appeared to be largely “out of the loop,” information-wise, despite the daily governmental press conferences, curfews, and various media campaigns for hand-washing, staying at home, and social distancing – a dangerous situation since such campaigns can only be effective if there is widespread, shared understanding of the message and and collective buy-in to the necessity of the measures. Carnegie called, in response, for those campaigns to use Jamaican patois, rather than standard English, as he saw the matter of language as a major factor in the apparent communicative breakdown.

 

 

It was early days yet then, in terms of the Jamaican experience of the pandemic, and the public communications have become more Jamaicanized since then, with the slogan (and hashtag) “tan a yuh yaad” (“stay at home”) as well as a few less memorable ones. Several popular musicians have opted in, with songs and social media posts that urge Jamaicans to comply, as is reported in the above TVJ Entertainment Prime clip. Perhaps the window-washer now has a better grasp of the situation – it would be interesting to know if that is in effect so and how this is reflected in his money-earning strategies and income. And the public handling of the crisis has been relatively successful: after a rapid increase in confirmed Covid-19 cases, the daily numbers have now tapered off and only nine deaths have been recorded. While major uncertainties remain, there are now moves to “reopen” the Jamaican economy and, particularly, to reopen the country’s borders to tourism.

But it appears that there is still a major public disconnect and that only part of the population follows the Ministry of Health guidelines, and only when they have to, which may come back to haunt us in terms of greater community spread. The wearing of a mask (over mouth and nose) is now mandatory when going out and most places of business require them, with mandatory hand disinfection and, increasingly, temperature checks also being the norm on entry. The situation on the streets of Kingston is markedly different, however, and I’d venture that mask-wearing compliance is only at about 50 %. Many of those who do wear masks while on the streets have them covering their mouth only, or even wear them casually on their forehead or chin, as if it were a fashion accessory. And it appears that compliance is strongly mediated by class, with middle and upper income persons far more likely to adhere to the directives. The non-compliance appears to come, by and large, from today’s “have nots” and the reasons why may not all be equally obvious.

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Inside Pandora’s Box: A Few Thoughts about Art in the Age of Corona – Part I

This is the first of a three-part post. Part II can be found here and part III is forthcoming.

What times are these, in which
A conversation about trees is almost a crime
For in doing so we maintain our silence about so much wrongdoing!

– Bertolt Brecht, ‘To Those Who Follow in Our Wake’ (1939)

Some months ago, after hurricane Dorian devastated the northern Bahamas, as one of several recent environmentally linked catastrophies, I had started to write a post about climate change and the Caribbean art world. For various reasons I did not finish it at that time but the Corona pandemic has driven me back to reflecting on the subject, albeit from a different perspective. Because the pandemic is, at a fundamental level, part of the broader environmental crisis that is engulfing us, as it stems from our rapacious stewardship of natural resources and a globalized lifestyle which is increasingly unsustainable. Our encroachment of natural habitats appears to have been a major factor in the emergence of the virus, while its rapid, global spread is linked to the intensive international travel patterns that shape our globalized world.

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Corona

We live in an age of deep narcissism and thoughtless aspirational conduct — FOMO, YOLO, brand consumerism, and all — that has invaded all aspects of life, from personal relationships to politics. The current call for social distancing will require us to delve deeply into our reserves of personal resilience and self-reliance but this should be no excuse to to act with the sort of self-absorption and selfishness that has so become entrenched in our culture, as this will only contribute to the escalating crisis. The loathsome attacks on people of Asian descent that have been reported in various parts of the world will hopefully not be the start of new, detrimental waves of ethnic cleansing, or violence against those who are perceived to carry the illness or have coveted resources. We are in this together and our survival as a supposedly intelligent species may very well depend on our willingness and ability to think and act collectively, with wisdom, empathy, and foresight.

The current moment calls for reflection on many levels, in addition to the urgent immediate actions. In fact, it calls for major cultural changes. It is a moment in which many of our collective and individual priorities, actions, and responsibilities will have to be reconsidered, along with possibly our entire way of life. If we don’t, what is happening now — pandemic and climate disasters alike, along with the social disruption and conflict that inevitably accompany such events — will happen again and again, and worse every time, until human civilization ends.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Bushfires over Canberra, Australia, 2019-20

The reality we all need to face is that the Anthropocene is in a deep, self-inflicted and possibly epoch-ending crisis. And, arguably, so is Capitalism, as the ethos that shapes its economic and social power dynamics. The much-feared recession has already commenced but it may be the start of much more than that: the possible end of a socio-economic dispensation that has proven to be unsustainable and fundamentally inequitable, and that is a root cause of the current crisis. Or perhaps it won’t and Big Capitalism will, once again, turn out to the biggest winner, at least in the short term — stimulus packages are being clamoured for by some of its biggest, most well-resourced exponents, along with calls for full economic activities to resume despite the anticipated human cost, while profits are no doubt already being made off the crisis or at least planned for. But that, in itself, will make its deep failings and injustices more visible than ever, and perhaps more likely to be decisively challenged. Such challenge is already emerging, for instance in the current #notdying4wallstreet call for a national strike in the USA, which almost immediately went viral on social media. We may soon find that the winds of revolution are blowing.Read More »