Making " Making
Mas"
Making Mas wasn't my idea. It was suggested to me by Anthony
Wilson, currently the Acting Editor in Chief of the Guardian, but
he saw the possibilities of a series on the creation of Carnival
costumes modelled along the lines that I've been exploring in
Trinidad and Tobago with Local
Lives.
Local Lives has been on
hiatus for a year while I worked on other projects that were, to be
frank, less about art than commerce.
Since my return to full-time
professional photography in 2006, I've been very clear about my own
need to balance what people need with what I want to do and the
best way to achieve that has been pursuing my own projects in the
spaces between formal assignments.
With Local Lives on pause, I took up my La Fleur Morte project as a way of feeding
my personal work Jones.
Making Mas is, basically, Local Lives but with a more circumscribed
subject, a single page allotted to each instalment and a pretty
brutal deadline.
The project
launched with its first instalment on January 11, 2008 in a
Carnival season that would last just four weeks into the new year
and costume construction proceeding apace.
I was given a page on Monday
and another on Friday for a total of seven instalments before
Carnival Monday and Tuesday.
There were some aspects of the project that weren't completed. I
badly miscalculated the construction schedule for Children's
Carnival costumes and when I started calling, everyone was finished
their work.
There were other aspects
that were a challenge. This was, ultimately, a series about a
single thing; people with their heads bent over working on
costumes.
Making Mas isn't the first
time that Carnival costumes have been photographed as they were
being created, but over the years a lazy shorthand has evolved to
describe the process.
There's the headpiece being
fitted to the pretty masquerader shot, the acting like I'm doing
something with a glue bottle/pliers/bit of wire shot and the
bandleader pointing to the costume designs
shot.
Some bandleaders or section
managers told me right up front that they didn't have time to pose.
They seemed pretty surprised when I told them that posing was the
last thing I wanted.
Getting around
the predilection of people to perform for a camera is always a
challenge, particularly in circumstances where a camera rarely gets
poked. My usual method is to work quietly and continuously until
everyone gets bored and gets back to what ever they need to be
doing.
The cruel deadlines of
Carnival 2008 were a big help with that. Clowning around for the
photographer wasn't something that anyone in charge of production
had a lot of patience with.
That left me with some
technical challenges. People bent over working, again and again
tends to get boring, so I employed lighting (Canon hotshoe flashes
at arm's length or on lightweight stands in some circumstances)
whenever existing light failed me to lift workers out of the realm
of the humdrum and sought situations that brought character to the
work.
I like my lighting to be
invisible, so in many cases the strobe light is meant to either
fill unreadable shadows or put light where you would expect to find
it, now where it makes me look terribly clever.
Some photos were gifts. The photograph of Douglas John and his
mother was true to the situation, but John offered to bring some
backpacks and headpieces back upstairs to hang on the line (he had
put them away a few hours before).
Many were work.
The photo of the Tribe packaging line required two wireless hotshoe
flashes to light in circumstances so dim that even high ISO photos
were murky and undistinguished. I then had to keep shooting until
everyone got back into the rhythm of packing and set my presence
perched on a ladder aside in their minds.
Some situations were rich with opportunities; others were a mystery
to be decoded. The Kalicharans work in a small space, no more than
thirty feet square, leaving me in a box with few angles to
explore.
As with Local Lives, I produced each instalment from beginning to
end, from selecting the people to be featured, to conducting the
interviews, writing the story and roughing out the layout.
If a Local Lives story is a short story, each Making Mas was a
haiku.
Without a second page to extend the visual aspects of the story, I
needed to ensure that the words didn't repeat the photos and vice
versa.
The traditional rules of the photoessay were enforced with
underlines. Some lovely photos that didn't offer enough information
were set aside in favour of less dramatic images that knitted the
story together more tightly. There's a tableau photo of Ancil
McClean that I particularly like but it didn't read as well small
as the one I finally chose.
After the
photography was done, I'd spend a day with a rough draft of the
story and a rough layout of the page, juggling impact with
information to tell the best story that was most likely to grab
some attention on the printed page.
I delivered colour corrected
and toned RGB files with NewsEdit copy and a PDF and print of the
rough layout to the Guardian and let the designers do their
work.
It was a tough project, with far too little time and too little
space, but it was a remarkable opportunity to meet a wide range of
mas producers working in Trinidad today.
What has been particularly striking about the experience is the
hospitality and enthusiasm of my subjects.
In the afterglow of the project, I've found even more surprises in
the reception that it has received on the web. In January 2008, my
web visitors jumped by more than 1,000 for the month with key
references coming from Trini bloggers focused on the Carnival
space.
So in concluding, here's a hearty big-up to the folks who took kind
note of the work.
Saucy
Trini
Massassination
Keith in
Trinidad
If you're interested in some of the off-camera strobe techniques I
use, visit this
website.
Return to Making Mas here.




