I’m taking the ferry over for a long weekend on Saba, an island near St. Maarten that supposedly had A-mazing scuba diving. Fingers crossed!
P.S. I am currently a fan of rust.
If you haven’t heard, you have probably been living under a rock or on a remote island. Chris Ofili’s name is popping up everwhere, and the press coverage is certainly having an effect on me: I want to go!
Ofili is having a retrospective–which feels off to me, for a 41 year old whose work is evolving to already have a retrospective–at Tate Britain, and to mixed reviews of his more recent work. Since moving to Trinidad, he has begun experimenting with new forms and pared down medium. (To borrow a phrase, he has “cut the crap.”) Check out the video at the Guardian about the influence of the Caribbean on his work.
His more recent paintings are less flamboyant, minus the glitter and dung, etc. The curator Judith Nesbitt says to Culture 24:
“He says he’s doing more of the listening now, working in a more open-minded way, letting it be, waiting to see where it’s going to go.That’s one of the most exciting factors in this exhibition. He’s still a young artist. He’s got some way to go.”
Some of the buzz:

Some mornings the island seems to belong more in the world of Shakespeare’s The Tempest than the present day Caribbean. I came upon an offering of sea riches from Caliban.

The beach, strewn with a multitude of coral, shells, and rocks, reminded me of Ariel’s song:
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