A meeting of provoking trilogies Arts On Sunday
With Al Creighton Stabroek News
August 12, 2001




One views with never-ending fascination the continuing evolution of the art of Stanley Greaves. In his last exhibition in Guyana - Celebration 60 in 1994 at Castellani House and Hadfield Foundation - Greaves exhibited some of his wealth of art from the 1950s to the 1990s. This time around, he presents his award-winning series There is a Meeting Here Tonight", a series of trilogies together with an prologue and an epilogue. The first trilogy, consisting of the paintings The Annunciation, The Presentation and The Apotheosis, done in 1992 and 1993, won the gold medal at the second Santo Domingo biennial in 1994. Two other trilogies were done in the 1990s - The Candidate, The Manifesto and Party Supporters in 1996, and Party Political Broadcast, Elections Results and Ballot Boxes in 1997. A fourth trilogy: Electoral Boundary, Political Protest and Political Hero followed in 2000. The Prologue was done in 1994 and the Epilogue in 2001.

As is always the case with Greaves' progress, the new series seems excitingly new yet excitingly familiar. One notes the same preoccupation with technique, the meticulousness, the craftsmanship, the ease of using colour that is at once decorative and significant, the mastery of the picture plane and composition, and the never-ending high wit and intelligence. These all abound in the series. The difference comes with the specific subject matter, the different direction his thinking takes, and the new style he creates out of the basic elements of his art. Each series is a re-making of his art, a reinvention of his means of expression.

In this series, some of the remarkable points are the trompe-l'oeil effects - the evocation of real textures - the explicitly political subject matter, the obvious involvement in surrealism, and the greater and more obvious use of symbolism.

The structure of the series: Prologue, trilogies, epilogue, recalls epic literature and the great classical music compositions. The titles of the first trilogy are the same as those of some pre-Renaissance and Renaissance religious paintings which depict the foretelling of the birth of Christ, his presentation to the temple, his glorification. The high style established by the structure, and the divinity suggested by the titles set an ironic, sarcastic tone for the series. In this painting, Greaves depicts the apotheosis or deification of the politician. However, the monochromatic nature of the painting, its sombre colours, the gloomy mood set by the huddled houses casting shadows, the barren landscape, the brooding black moon (a long-standing Greaves trademark) and most of all, the frightening image of numerous dogs emerging from some subterranean den, create a chilling picture.

This painting suggests the fall of the political hero, and the emptiness and vanity of his career. This could also be the artist's triumph over this charlatan. But the painting is full of other echoes which considerably enhance its power. The ruin on the right calls to mind the surrealist De Chirico, but in its regular windows also suggests a sense of order. The judge similarly suggests a system of order. However, just as the building is ruined so is the judge's white leaflet torn. A barrel, which is ubiquitous in this series stands upright. All of these things stand on a ruler-straight ground. In the foreground lies the fallen idol, statue-like, recalling the shrouded figure in the painting Political Hero. The fallen idol also calls to mind a fallen Greek statue - Apollo? The barrel now seems to have emptied itself - into the sewer. However, the fallen idol clutches his microphone - another ubiquitous element in the series - but now it is connected to nothing.

These paintings give delight at many levels. At the most basic, they can be enjoyed as supreme examples of picture-making. They give delight by their sheer physical presence - each is a superbly executed piece of work, created with astonishing ease. A careful look shows that Greaves uses all extremely simple unfussy painting techniques. The ropes, for example, are simple, brown lines with little hatch marks to suggest the fibres. Yet, everything looks real and correct, and quite pleasingly put together.

The paintings can also be enjoyed as teasing intellectual puzzles for the connection they make with the world of ideas, imagination and learning. Each painting encourages the viewer to question the visual experience, seductive as it is. The bringing together of familiar things into strange relationships with other familiar things prompts the audience to think about those things, and about the dialogue that Greaves hints between them in the painting, and also across the series.

The paintings can also be enjoyed for the statements they appear to make about the Caribbean people and Caribbean life. Here, the question of culture arises, since Greaves brings a mass of references and associations to bear on his vision of the Caribbean. The multi-faceted nature of the paintings is Greaves' contribution to a dialogue; the burden is then up to the viewer - with his grasp of his society - to supply the other 'voice.' Greaves is hinting, therefore, that there are certain areas of experiences, rituals, symbolism, etc., which are shared by Caribbean people, for without this, there can be no dialogue. If this is true, then the experience of the exhibition would constitute a 'meeting' between the artist and the viewer. And this would be a true 'meeting,' unlike the spurious roadside or bottom-house meetings of the political candidate and his supporters.

These apparently simple paintings, then, are rich in content, and in meaning outside of the picture frame or museum. They contain a wealth of detail, and everything vibrates with suggestions of importance: the colours and textures, the objects, the relationships among objects, people and other elements.

One of Greaves' great achievements in this series is the way in which he easily refers to numerous traditions of thought, imagination and expression, and brings them together coherently. His paintings bring together pre-Renaissance and Renaissance religious art and Caribbean folk religions; Caribbean landscapes, peoples, and objects and surrealist mindscapes; Greek art and that of E R Burrowes. His series echoes great literature, classical music compositions and epic traditions, all wrapped up in a sense of irony and sarcasm.

In each painting there seems to be an ironic disjunction between the portrayal of the central subject and the artistic means used to depict the subject. Through these means - symbolism, references to great traditions, surrealism, use of colour, composition, etc., Greaves comments on, and invites dialogue with the viewer on the subject. In The Annunciation, for example, the speaker is smoothly dressed and confident. But the viewer notes that the artist has put him in what seems to be a rubbish bin, and that he is about to be carted off by a cleaning woman. There are other elements in the painting - the broken bottle, the unlit flambeau, the black dog, the woman's stalk of cane and dangling match box (foretelling events in Georgetown earlier this year?) which the viewer is invited to read.

There is much in this exhibition to delight in and think about, but then, evoking such a response has always been a hallmark of the art of Stanley Greaves.