Apart from
problems of taxonomy, a rigorously subjective approach to the subject brings on
its own peculiar problems. Because the cultural conflict within Jamaica is by
no means settled, I cannot pretend to be a neutral force within the territory I
am reconnoitring. Everyhere I go I am made to feel an active ingredient in a
unclarified but obviously significant process.
Every photograph I
have taken in Jamaica has not been like picking up a pebble from a dry river
bed. Each one has been a gift, frequently from an initially reluctant and
suspicious owner of the image. Anyone who has photographed in Jamaica, will
know what I mean. In fact the tourist guides warn of the danger in stealing
images. The photographer must make sure he is seen taking pictures. If there is
an objection to his intention it quickly becomes manifest in the appropriate
gestures and noises. It then becomes necessary to bargain for the image. Failing
to do so can result in anger. Therefore every image I present here, including
the ones without a visual representation, are images which have been bargained
for, rarely with money, but always with reassurance. I hope I have not done the
people who gve me their images an injustice.
Being such a
politically charged observer -not of my own choice mind you- it is necessary to
view my position within the material.
Without doing so, my interpretation of Jamaican architecture would become
facile. Therefore, before I start on my odyssey through the background of daily
life in Jamaica I have chosen to position myself within the material, position
myself with regard to Jamaica. That will establish legitimacy in writing this
essay. Or fail to. That is not self-indulgent nor is it superfluous to the
project here. Social and concommittant economic tensions carry deep causes and
their effects are felt throughout the liturgy of daily life here. My
interpretation of Jamaican architecture is nothing less than an attempt to
understand the motives, machinations and consequences of conflict in a society
where the colour of my skin is -forgive the metaphor- a bone of contention.