Archive for the ‘history’ Category
Sometimes the greatest works are produced by pure will. This collection of Jewellery may very well be the work of Rachel Ross made during the recession in Trinidad and Tobago. if so, the earring is made of a pvc sleeve with two plastic curtain loops, painted black and deckled with gold spray paint to give it the appearance of copper.
Rain, nah, I still going, is fete remember…All inclusive
Today I ended a chapter in my work from many perspectives. Ended is a large body of embroidery on violence in Trinidad and Tobago. Certainly it is not the last of making these pieces that I have focused on for a decade. Yet, ended is the requirements taken to research this topic.
The space chosen for this departure was the University of the West Indies. A space called ‘The House’, on Warner Street. An old colonial bungalow, practically forgotten. Used for classes, but bereft of care.
The show continues to the 28th of August, 2009.
Titled Police an’ Tief, I look at crime in Trinidad and Tobago from four perspectives.
The judiciary and
The colour choices for each grouping:
Walking into “The House’ was a sight to behold, alot of work needed to be done to get it in shape. In some ways the house was a testament to the state of Trinidad today. On the one hand, the past stared me in the face in the guise of the old abstract patterned curtains, dusty with wear.
Many made promises, empty from the start. No one really wants to touch this topic. They will talk, and tell you how brave, how talented, how important. But they stay away from this issue.
Nonetheless,this is a tribute to all of those who stay, the photographers in our society who take the thankless, sad pictures of our fellow men felled in service, the crying victims, the arrogant perpetrators…
The POWER OF THREAD is the point of my works.
THREAD is the work.
The great debate – Clinton Anthony Cummings, Spade and Louse
This stencil sign has been removed
Readers who may be concerned over the implications of graffiti art in Trinidad. The question remains to some. Is graffiti a form of Art, is it a form of social commentary or just an act of vandalism?
A open request to the Graffiti artists tagged as MANF, HEF, JAP, KRAZE, SPADE, HOWOK, CH3W@H, KONK and SPIT. Voice your concerns in a constructive way, explain to the public why this type of Art form is necessary.
Where graffiti artist Clinton Anthony Cummings once slept, would any of the taggers above like to exchange in his place? The end of Graffiti in Trinidad, Hallelujah. The bookman has fallowed this man’s work since 2004. Thank you Anthony for asking the question,”Where have all the thinkers gone?” He should be tagged PRIDE
Feinin badeing under a stand pipe, Port of Spain
Wha happen, you is a buller watching meh bade in yuh fancy Toyota Hilux. I know I have only trolley to carry cardboard box and fruits at de market, but I ain’t sweating to pay for it like you who feel yuh big in oui capital, driving Big Company car or Government vehicle yuh don’t own or respect. You spending all yuh money in gym pumping iron all day and yuh still eying meh natural body because I does walk all day to pick up all de Carib bottle after you, when you yuh self does pelt dem out yuh air condition truck.
Lady, dough strain yuh neck, it quail up in meh draws, but it clean with Carbolic Soap. Look you, yuh watching meh with yuh eye straight nearly bounce dat old Datsun 120y in front of yeh. I saving up for Courts Repossess two tub washer so dough mind I does wash meh clothes under de pipe with Breeze and Colgate have meh teet and gold cap white and shinny ever since I stop sucking all dat guava sweet and kaser ball in Primary school.
Is here I staying dees days, meh granny bring me up proper, I love she till she dead. Is dem whatless Junior Sec dat teach meh how to survive and cable and deportee show meh de way. ” Hello Rosaline, I is away for a fortnight, when I see yuh, I’ll show you what I learn, de mis and jook in de caca”
The Poui in bloom, Trinidad, West Indies
Soil, sand and seas, ample hills that bleed, oaks, pines and daffodils. See beyond your childish gaze, touch my silky skin. I am here not for my beauty, but for my time, before I return to a desert, dust clouding my vision, damp charcoaled skin. Death comes with a whisk of flames, I sleep never to return.
Ode to Earth