“Hey, yuh wah shoot a three day tan of me back?”

Perplexed and intrigued, I quickly grabbed my gear. Mark, a super talented painter and illustrator had just completed an enormous banner for an upcoming event at the National Stadium. After three days of gruelling work in the blazing hot Jamaican sun wearing his uniform of a blue marina vest, headphones and jeans, he was a prime subject.

Unsure as to how I wanted to capture him, I examined him standing there against the stark white wall in the photography department of the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts. It was the perfect backdrop. I knew I wanted to capture different elements, from the removal of the vest to the full portrait. I decided to take a stop motion approach, four frames; frontal, two sides and back as he removed his vest. Style wise, I decided to do what my mentor William Richards referred to as the ‘Avedon’, stand with the body facing camera, arms at the side in a gun slinger style ready for a duel at high noon. It felt poetic.

I was immediately blown away by the drastic contrast, but in that moment I saw more than an enthralling image. As he unveiled the tan, I felt something. It was a small jarring response, a flash of anger as I realised what his body endured to produce this piece of work. As we progressed, we talked about the project and I realised my hunch was correct. This, was another job, like so many other projects artists or creatives are inclined to take where there is small financial compensation. As artists, many times you’re compelled to take on jobs that don’t pay you for your experience or expertise, but because you have limited choices you fall prey to the system of survival. Sometimes I see it as exploitation, especially for students such as Mark. Extremely talented, but caught up in the rat race. A victim of the system of capitalist exploitation. 

The human back in art is usually seen as a symbol for strength and hard-work. It can be quite alluring whether with defined muscles or soft with curves and layered folds. It’s also the part of the body we show literal and figurative strength, it is where we feel tension and stress. It has always fascinated me with the stories it can tell. Growing up my parents always said to me ‘you back have to broad’. It was a warning to be mentally prepared to deal with the harsh reality of making your way in the world. As a Jamaican, I understand the realities of growing up in a post colonial society. This was another reminder of how we continue to grapple with the historical exploitation of the enslaved, indentured and now working class people. 

As we commemorate Black History Month, and for us Jamaicans the earth strong of the Right Honourable Robert Nester Marley, I am reminded of how Caribbean people have carried generations on their backs, resisting, negotiating and dreaming of a world of justice and freedom. One where the working class is valued. 

“Until there are no longer 

First class and second class citizens of any nation 

Until the colour of a man’s skin 

Is of no more significance than the colour of his eyes

Me say war.”

Bob Marley and the Wailers, 1976