Friday, September 11, 2009

Listin And Rita

The Green Boley Bar, named after a vegetable that is used to make bowls, is owned by Listin and Rita. Most afternoons I eat my lunch there, sitting on stools made from PVC piping topped with yachting cushions, I order a Roti and a Bitter Lemon. The bar is painted bright green, almost a neon electrified color. Fully open to the outside the walls are made from bamboo stalks that have been split in half and nailed to planks of wood. The bar sits 5 feet above the water, behind but level with the top of a retaining wall. A retaining wall that serves two purposes to keep the land from sliding to the sea, and to prevent rising water from sinking the bar. As Rita will tell you the water has been rising since she can remember. She says, "My mother told me to go look just beyond that dock (pointing down the beach) in the water you will find a foundation where a toilet used to sit. When we built this bar they drove a truck down the beach to deliver supplies." This foundation now sits under about 15 feet of water, and the beach that the truck drove down, well there were people swimming in that same spot this morning. I asked her what she thought might happen forty years from now, she said "There is no telling, but there will never be a beach there again (she laughs)" I fear that in forty years the Green Boley might not exist, along with all the other bars, houses, shops, and restaurants that line the harbor.

Yet some people say that global warming is a myth.

Last Day In Southside

I had promised many people prints, since they were so kind in sitting for portraits. As my time here is winding down I finally got around to delivering on my word. Many of my portraits have been shot in one area of the island, this area being Southside or Pageant Farm. Everyday since I have been here the sun has been setting a little further south each day. Upon my final visit to Southside the sun was setting just to the left of the island, as apposed to setting behind the hills. The lighting was brilliant, reflecting off the sea.

I went about my way trying to track down a handful of people. I managed to find everyone, walking from house to house or bystander to bystander asking where each person lived. I found myself in homes that I had never seen before and meeting people that were so kind to lend there time for a few more photographs. I promised them that when I return they too will receive a print, and thus begins a snowball effect of portraiture. I'm happy to make as many prints as I can and people are happy to sit for a photo as long as they receive a print.

As I made my way to my last stop I received an unpleasant greeting from three dogs. Unfortunately I got bit, not badly, I think I will live no rabies yet?!

Monday, August 31, 2009


Some shots from a visit to a neighboring island.

Thursday, August 27, 2009


Named after Alexander Hamilton's Father, this is the last village on the north side of the island. There is a Fort that is at the end of the main road that winds along the water. Old British Canons jut out from the point projecting towards the sea, covered in rust these weapons were once used to fight the French for control of the island.

I like to walk through Hamilton in the evening. Around six o'clock the sun is just disappearing behind one of the many hills that make up Bequia. The light is soft, diffused through the particals in the atmosphere as it slowly gets darker. Many people are sitting outside, making fires, smoking, laughing, hanging laundry, and a few guys are playing soccer on a beach no larger then the boats that are mored in the harbor. The loud WAP of dominos hitting a board, as the player's hand slams one down taunting his opponents, seems to sift through doors onto the streets. A man is bathing his dog in the ocean, the water is clear and looks soft.

Most people are taking in the view. The golden light reflecting off the boats in the harbor seems to direct their gaze. Sitting on their porches as dusk slowly fades into the sea.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


Shot a wedding here. Here are two photos that I really like.

Joan And Jonathan

Today I went for a six mile walk. The day was hot, August is the hottest month here, and there was a lack of wind. I decided to push myself and see how long I could bare the heat before turning back. Equipped with a lack of a destination, my camera, and a liter and a half of water I set off. I returned home having met some new people.

I had been told by some one, coincidently, in New York that he (Chad Oliver) had grown up on Bequia. He told me all about his life down here and told me where his grandmother lived and how she had a little store which I had photographed. This shows how small the world is considering Bequia has a population of about 6,000 people, and New York has about 14 million people. So bumping into someone from Bequia in New York is like, I don't know discovering you have a twin brother at the age of 78, it just doesn't happen. Anyway today, on my walk to no where, I met Chad's grandmother.

I remembered where the store was that I had photographed, and as I passed by dripping with sweat I decided to divert my walk and see if she was around. I was immediately greeted by a barking dog, a small mutt with blond fur and clean white teeth. The dog created a lot of noise which in turn roused someone from the house who looked confused as to why a strange man was standing on her front lawn. I explained the circumstances that had brought me into this situation and she immediately understood whom I was referring to and why I found myself on her front lawn. She swatted at the dog who was barking continuously, and he scurried away behind a vehicle. I came inside and met Chad's grandmother, a sweet woman, who seemed to be in her late 70's. She was wearing a night gown and as she rose up from her day bed where she was watching an American sitcom from the 90's she asked who i was exactly.

Again I explained the situation that had brought me here and she was so happy to see me that she gave me a huge hug. Her name is Joan.



Visitor has left

I had an amazing visitor for the passed two weeks keeping me company here. Today she left. We had a great time exploring the island, and I took many beautiful photographs of her. These are mostly for her and her parents viewing pleasure.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Not sure where these images fit in to this project but I really enjoy them.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

A Plentiful Catch 2

A Plentiful Catch

The seventh annual Bequia Fisherman's Day seemed to be, well, a little fishy. Starting at around eleven in the morning and continuing till seven in the evening the day was full of strange smells, sites, and scales. Three stations were set up along the beach front. These stations were simple tables, one built from ply wood and another formed by a stack of palettes. Knives, mallets, sharpeners, buckets, and de-scaling devices, were carefully organized and sat idle at each station.

Each station had 4-5 men working at it, dividing up the fish between them as it came in. Boats slid across the water and halfway onto the beach. Before the smell of fish arrived in your nostrils crowds were gathered around each boat, poking, grabbing, shouting, and hoping to be the first to get fish. After the fish had been weighed and divided among the mob they were brought to each station. Here the tools, which had been waiting their turn, were being put to good use. The fish were carefully, scaled, gutted, flayed, and chopped/cut/diced into smaller pieces.

It did not seem to matter what kind of fish anyone received, just as long as they got a piece. There was dolphin, barracuda, snapper, red hein, trigger fish, skate, eel, and shark being brought from the sea. Fisherman walked off boats holding mesh sacks weighing 110 lbs filled with fish. The smell was intoxicating, scales seemed to attract themselves to any one with in 5 feet of a cleaning station. And the water had turned a thick pink color. Seagulls flocked fighting each other for the remnants of liver, or kidney, gills.

I went home that night distraught by the fact that i thought there may be no fish left in the sea the next day.