BREWSTER LOVE
“To everything, there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.”
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Death is an interesting construct that compels all of us to move as we see fit. I don’t believe there is a wrong or right way to react when someone of significance passes, but it does become challenging to cope for someone like myself when you lose a loved one and instantly find yourself surrounded by family. I know of a few people who need to be surrounded by family in order to ease their transition, while others seek isolation to cope with the rush of emotions. I know of a few people who start to give back to their communities in honor of their deceased loved one, and I know others who seek shelter and understanding in their respected deity. We all react accordingly to our fears, levels of comfort, and lack of understanding when the inevitable happens. What I have learned over the passing of my Grandfather’s wife, Arlena, is that my family will never use death of a loved one to sulk in their own sorrows. When Arlena passed my grandfather took the time he needed to come to peace with the inevitable then quickly arranged for her celebration to take place on his birthday. Family from all over the United States and the caribbean either drove or flew to his aid in order to celebrate his late loved one. To be frank I was nervous to attend for a number of reasons. For starters, death makes me wildly uncomfortable to the point where I seek adventures and outrageous excursions to feel “alive.” Second, my grandfather called my mother and politely requested that I photograph the entire weekend… The urge to say no has never been so strong but I couldn’t come to terms with disappointing my grandfather and his simple request. I dedicate this gallery to my grandfather Rudolph, the man of many tales and wisdom beyond comprehension. Thank you for always welcoming my creative endeavors.
When I was a child my family and I would spend hours, sometimes days driving back and forth from Arizona to Texas in order to partake in family gatherings. My fondest memories stem from Christmas parties my tia would host in San Antonio, Texas. Her two story home would be filled with all of my cousins, tia’s and tio’s, family friends and neighbors from the cul-de -sac. Just a home filled with Puertoricans, good food, games and laughter that filled the streets. As I grew older family gatherings became scarce and my relationships began to dwindle with my childhood memories, but like they say, history repeats itself. My mom used this opportunity to relive our early family memories and rent an SUV so my sisters and I could drive 12 hours like old times in order to lift my grandfather's spirits and celebrate Arlena. Once we picked up my older sister and her husband from the Orlando airport it felt like winter of 2004. Hours within our commute we all became sleepy, delusional, and hangry but it’s nothing that Buckee’s jerky bar, Starbucks mediocre coffee and a solid car nap couldn't fix. A few hours later we arrived to my grandfather's door steps. The thick Florida air, vibrant palm trees, agile geckos and a ear to ear smile from my grandfather welcomed us as if we never left. My grandfather was thrilled to see us all but his interest seemed to be fixed on giving my brother in law Kirk the grand tour since it was their first time meeting one another. Kirk was in awe as my grandfather went into detail of every picture that hung on the wall, each story seemed to make his jaw drop a few inches more. As I roamed his home in search of a few frames to help tell this story I came across my baby sister Victoria who seemed overwhelmed with emotion. Never have I seen her in such discomfort or reserved. As a brother I wanted to fling to her aid, but as an artist I wanted to explore the trust we have built over the last few years and capture her in a moment of vulnerability.
Later that evening my extended family all made their way to my grandfathers house, my nerves ambushed me like a colony of bees when their hive is disturbed. I wasn’t quite sure what I got myself into as a photographer considering that I haven't met more than half of my extended family. Luckily my mother has done a great job on informing people with my personal life prior to our arrival, so when I was in a room filled with a few unfamiliar faces they already had a rough idea of who I am and my personal interest.The first person I recall meeting was my Tio Taquin. I’m sure we met when I was a walking landmine but never as an adult. He looked down at me with a jolly grin and said “You must be the photographer, tell me, why black and white?” Okay, were starting off with the deep questions, cool. “I just don't like all of the noise that color has,” I replied. He stood there in fascination but quickly went back to cooking with his wife Rita. I was happy that his need to feed the family is what broke our conversation, it was just an affirmation that my families way of healing or tending to ones spirit is through food. The kitchen was filled with rich spices that spewed from the curry shrimp and homemade roti. Soon enough ample bodies made their way in and out of the kitchen trying to fix themselves a plate. Even my grandfather found himself in the eye of the storm as he fought for a plate in his own kitchen. True colors began to reveal themselves as I took a step back and witness my family embrace one another. It didn’t take long for my cousin Jaden to recruit my younger sister victoria into being a menace, or for my cousin Reese to start a Smash Brother tournament with anyone who wanted to embarrass themselves. Life around me was moving in peace like a monk in a Zen Garden, all I had to do was be a fly on the wall to capture it. Yet, trying to mingle with extended family you haven’t seen in years or in this particular case, never met, becomes challenging to navigate. The longer I hung out with my family the more I wanted the chance to witness my nieces and nephews grow up and build their unique personalities; the ability to hug my Tia not because I haven’t seen her in years but to just appreciate her as a figure in my life; Or even the chance to sit with my grandfather over some dessert as he tells me stories about all of his wild adventures as a young lad; I’d even listen to my uncle passionately rant about politics for hours after he finishes cooking us all dinner, it’s the least I can do. Being in the presence of my family made me feel whole, something I haven’t felt since winter of 2004.
At Arlena’s celebration I found myself bouncing from table to table introducing myself to my caribbean family who I have never met. Saying hello has never been easier but maintaining a conversation was the biggest challenge of them all. My objective was to just create an introduction that would create some sort of familiarity as I pulled back from being in the crowd in order to photograph the event in peace. It was a beautiful sight to witness my grandfather receive so much love from his friends and family, but it became a struggle to watch him go from absolute joy to a brief moment of being frozen in place. It seemed as if his mind would drift and white noise would then flush out all the ambient noise. I could only imagine how heavy his heart became as the event went on, yet he managed to walk around the room with grace and a warm smile. Shortly after dinner the mic was open for anyone who wanted to share a few words about Arlena, of course my grandfather started it off and filled the room with heavy emotions. When he passed the mic off to his son Taquin you could feel the room flatline due to a son struggling to come to terms with losing his mother. A pain I’m in no rush of feeling anytime soon. After Taquin’s speech a few of the grandchildren walked up to the podium and shared a few words. My little cousin Jaden grabbed the mic and said “I didn’t know my grandmother all that well but I know she loved me…” Those words struck a chord within me because how relatable it was. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Arlena but I know the love she had for her grandchildren, children, and her husband was stronger than a silverback gorilla. Her love was silent like a mouse and infectious like a disease. Everyone in attendance understood that Arlena’s love was simple yet effective. It saddens me that the family lost a loved one yet I’m extremely thankful for the opportunity to not only photograph my family, but express our love for one another despite the distance that separates us. In due time our paths will cross again, only this time it won’t be over a lost soul.
To be frank, it’s hard for me to stomach that I had to be engulfed by other families and witness their social dynamics in order for me to sit down with this gallery again. In a way it was a palate cleanser since I recall the extensive post production on this project. For months I was developing, scanning and making touch ups for the photos while traveling and tending to other productions. I ended up writing 12 drafts of what this project meant to me, how it made me feel while trying to find common ground with my family in the photos. We all have a set of morals that we stand on that help us navigate life. As a story teller I aim to provide stories outside of my family. Over the years I have worked on my craft by photographing my immediate life which has naturally built a personal collection of memories and moments I keep close to my heart. When alone or in a weak headspace I selfishly cherish the moments I have captured, but over time I have realized that it’s not fair to hold back from those who have created these memories with me. This gallery has been my greatest challenge, yet the most therapeutic. It gave me space to heal, a moment to reflect on my values/morals, and the opportunity to cherish my family even more. I’m grateful for the individuals I get to call blood, to call on when things get rough, and the ones I get to explore the depths of the world with. I’m also grateful for the art of analog photography. Without it these unrepeatable moments wouldn’t feel real to me, just a blur from the past being held together by my poor memory. Something about this discipline gives me life and the willingness to explore. When I look back at the frames I was able to capture I recall the moment like it was just yesterday. I can smell the salty Atlantic water, hear my cousins obnoxious laugh (you know who you are), and I can vividly see my sister’s smile. Being around my family in a time of grief was nothing more than a peaceful reunion filled with ample memories to hold me off until we cross paths again. Only next tine I want it to be a planned vacation in our homeland Trinidad and Tobago.
I love you all and hope to see you soon,
Zai
