- Contributed
Kibi Wipan Gie - Pinas.
Marcel Pinas is an artist from Suriname. His chief source of inspiration is the cultural heritage of his own Surinamese maroon community. His exhibition is currently on view at the Bolivar Gallery. He speaks with Dr. Jonathan Greenland, executive director of the National Gallery of Jamaica.
Please tell us about your painting, 'Botoede'.
This painting is based on the image of a canoe. In my work, I use a lot of objects used by my people that have disappeared. Sometimes, I search for canoes in a river and I make a freestanding sculpture out of them or I make an installation, but with this piece I liked the form and then went from there. I hope people will see it and ask questions; that is how you start to educate people about things that have disappeared and people will write about it and we can keep it alive. In Suriname, we have the same Maroon communities made up of people who worked on the plantations, but ran away and formed communities in the jungle. Through my work I would like to educate people about Maroon art and what is going on in the Maroon society in Suriname. The moment you know where you come from then you know where you need to go. The theme I have been working on since I first came to Jamaica in 1999 is 'Kibri a Kulturu' or 'Preserve the Culture'.
So all the work you have been doing for the past few years is related to this theme?
Yes. The name of the exhibition is 'Ancestor Whisper'. In this painting, I express my feeling about how it is happening nowadays: We have only one boat with all our stuff on it, all our material things, and the rest has just disappeared. It is as if we only have one single boat for all our Maroon heritage in Suriname. In my works, there are also symbols from wood carving; in this painting the symbol at the top is the symbol of unification. I use this because the Maroons are in different groups and the politicians try to keep us all separated. In this piece, I wanted to express the need to be together as one and fight for our own rights. In Suriname, if you put the ethnic groups on a ladder, Maroon society is on the lowest rung. It's not a new thing - it has its origins in the past, but the Government doesn't really take care of Maroon society. The education system, health care, the entire infrastructure is poor. They keep us disempowered. And then in 1986 a civil war started and destroyed all the villages and a lot of Maroons had to move to French Guiana or Parimaribou, the capital of Suriname. And then after the war the politicians didn't take care about the people. The people had to make their way back without any financial support. And a lot of them stayed in Parimaribou and then the problems started with poverty, criminality and rootlessness. That's the reason why, partly, I want to express the feeling that Maroons are a people with a strong cultural identity.
You spent a while here in Jamaica studying at Edna Manley College, were you influenced by the role and the culture of the Maroons here?
Here is where the idea started. When I was here in Jamaica, I told them at Edna Manley College that I was a Maroon and they could not believe it. But I noticed a lot of the traditions have been lost here. In Suriname, we have maintained more of the traditions - the way we live, the way we use objects. If you compare the two peoples we have a lot more of traditional ways and that is why I am determined to convince my people to preserve what they have.
Could you talk us through your painting Kibi Wipan Gie?
The idea behind this piece is that I wanted to confront the two largest Maroon groups of Suriname; I wanted them to have constant communication in order to keep contact and keep the culture alive - by coming together you will be stronger than alone. This piece is done on the pan gie cloth. This is the cloth we used to cover our bodies with. We also use it for other cultural purposes, for example: when a girl is ready to have sex, or have children, or to get marry - we don't marry, but if the parent decides that the child is ready to have a husband, then the man must carry a lot of pan gie to the family. We don't get married in the sense you know. We have a specific cultural ceremony. We will go and ask the other family if they want to join our family.
,b>Some of your work reminds me of the work of the artist Jean-Michel Basquiat, is he an influence on you?
Yes, he is an artist I look at very much. I like the way he was working, expressing himself. That's what I admire most. He is free. That freedom in his use of colour is what I admire. An artist must be himself above all else.
,b>Your work is filled with colour and motion, can you talk some more about that?,/b>
Sometimes I go to some places and I see particular colour combinations. I'll take a picture of it. And I try to do that in my work even if it is not the same. For me the colours must work together. For example, when I go to French Guiana, you will see all the mail boxes - sometimes hundreds of them - all in different colours.
When I come to downtown Kingston I feel like I am home. I feel comfortable with everything: the colour, the crowds, the rusty things, the old things, people selling things on the street, the creative ways that the people have. I especially love those little carts that people make to push things around. I feel close to my roots and people. Downtown is just like it is at home - this is how poor people are. The way that people survive here is the same. I think I am the same as the people downtown, until I speak!
What artists are your main influences?
Apart from Basquiat, my main influences are the Spanish abstract expressionist, Antoni Tąpies, the American Pop artist, Robert Rauschenberg, the abstractionist, Willem de Kooning, and also the Jamaican artist, Petrona Morrison.
Could you talk us through the work Afaka Kibi Supun?
Normally when I do installations I use a lot of things, usually objects that were used in the village. On one occasion I made an installation of a kitchen, with all the spoons and cups. But then I started to decorate the spoons in the way that they did it in the village - when the men come home from work they have three hours before it gets dark, they sit down and make some nice designs on the spoons, and wood carving and other things. The aim is to beautify the objects, but it is also very competitive: "Mine is beautiful and yours isn't." etc. So I started to make the designs inside the spoons. I had to do an installation in Germany and then the idea came to use the spoons. I compare it with the children in the village: the spoon is always shining and the children are always smiling even though they don't know the future. That's why I use the spoons. I have about 500 of these spoons and I do different things with them. But at the Bolivar they hang above the doorway. When anybody comes through the door, the sound of the spoons hitting each other symbolises the sound of the communication that we need to keep things alive. Sometimes when I display them I put small oil lamps beneath them; when I light the lamps the heat makes the spoons move and ring against each other.
I've noticed you use these very elegant oil lamps, are they traditional?
Yes, these are the typical ones. I did an exhibition in Amsterdam with them and I did a large installation project in Suriname recently with these lamps, except I decided to make the lamps larger than usual. The usual ones are very small, but these are 12 feet high! There were 15 of them arranged in a public park in Parimaribou. I lit them all and we had a ceremony with a Maroon cultural group dancing between them.
Where did you find the funding?
I did this all by myself. I work with the idea that we, the Maroon people, ran away to the forest and we lived in the forest. We didn't need anybody. That is how I think when I do my projects. Whenever I sell something, I put money aside. For example, I also did an installation in my old school. When I went to the place where I was born I went to the school and I was surprised to see that the children didn't have pencils or books to write in or read. So I went to the nearest city and bought books and pens so they could continue their studies. I think education is important. This situation concerns me and I started to think. So I took the old benches from the school and gave them new benches and created an installation with benches and lamps. When I was a child we used to use the lamps to study by at night. I tried to speak up for the children: What are their rights? What are their needs? I hope that through the work people will become aware of the situation.
When did you find this strong moral purpose?
It started here in Jamaica. Here is where I found myself. Before I was drawing nice landscapes and birds and fruits. When I came into an art class I had this formula. And I couldn't let go of what I knew. I thought: "If I let this go what will happen?" We started at Edna Manley College in September and in December the teachers told me if you keep working like this then you don't need to come back. It was really a hard time for me.
I expect you forgive them now?
Yes, I am very happy and would like to thank them very much for creating this opportunity for me.
Where do you see your work in five years?
I like to travel. In January I start a scholarship in Holland for two years. Maybe I will move more in Europe in the future.
Do you have any advice for young Jamaican artists?
An artist, I think, has to know what they want to do and look deep into yourself. You need to find something that is interesting to you, for example, something that is really bothering you. Try to find a solution to it, try to move people to do something about it through your art. Express yourself about what is happening to you or in Jamaica. I think this is very important. And you don't have to be like anybody else. Art is not only about beauty but to educate and start a conversation. It is about what is behind the work, what is the message, what is your goal; it doesn't have to be beautiful.
But your own work is visually attractive?
I think it is accidental. It depends on your personality - I like beautiful things. So this is reflected in my work. It comes through my heart. I don't think too much!
Kibri a Kulturu is on view at the Bolivar Gallery through October 21.
