In January of 2024, I spent three weeks getting to know Barbados by travelling around the island and sketching various scenes I came across, including fruit vendors, rum shops, scenic vistas, streetscapes, and of course, a few beaches. Every night after sketching I would write and reflect on the day.
A selection of those writings, sketches, time lapses and photographs can be read below.
A selection of prints can be purchased here.
I wanted to explore a bit of the southern end of town, which I had only driven through, and try a sketch of one of the town's main attractions - “The Fisherman’s Pub.” I had noticed this place on my first visit. A unique-looking bar, with some hand-painted signs, Barbados-themed colours, lots of plants out front, and some slightly cheesy historic photo prints hung on the building. The place seemed (and is) touristy when I first passed by, but after a few weeks here, I had it mentioned to me by multiple locals from different places on the island - particularly once I showed them some sketches of what I was doing.
I ended up in an hour-long conversation with this fellow, Tony. He is very pleased to find out I’m from Canada; he gets excited and says, “I have a baby in Canada… I haven’t seen yet…” - the mother is going to school there but returns to Barbados often. He hasn’t been able to visit, but he tells me, “Every day I live another life in Canada” - through his phone and pictures.
He asks me what was the deal with all the fires this summer? His partner, being in Toronto, had smokey skies. “Is it just people setting them or… how is this happening?”
It's a gorgeous piece of property; the view would be stunning. I assume the owner is waiting for someone to offer them a considerable sum for it. Hopefully, the development restrictions on the island ensure that Loleene still has a good view. I wonder if it's less expensive than a teardown in Ottawa.
Eventually, I finished up and showed her the sketch, and she was pleased with it. I head to the mini-mart and show the owner there, who lets me park. "How much for a print?" she asks right away. I explain the nature of making and getting prints here, but I give her my contacts and tell her I will try to figure something out.
There are a few beautiful but not too busy beaches here, some with big overhanging trees and shade. Fishing boats and sailboats scatter the sea in the distance. The afternoon is running into the evening, so I do one more scenic stretch of a beach and coastline. On my way back to the car, it started pouring rain. I stopped and talked to some fishermen who were now starting a fire on the beach.
Once home with supplies, I head back out again into Orange Hill, the neighbourhood nearby. There are a couple of interesting rum shops or bars that I have seen that I would like to try to sketch. I drive past the first one - which is open and has people hanging out front, and look at the second, a smaller shed-like place - a rum shop. This one was closed, so I turned back around to get to the first spot, which is called Big Leg's Bar. On the way, there is a woman walking on the road with a few bags. I drive past her, then decide to reverse and offer her a ride. She accepts and hops in once I clear the passenger seat.
It's getting late in the afternoon, my iPad battery is dying, and I want to drive before the sun gets too low in the sky. I'm quite pleased with the sketch; it really looks like the place - I've just isolated the building, even though there is an incredible landscape behind it. I might fill this in later or make a second version; I don't know. I explain to Vilma that the last annoying thing is doing the lattice, which act as the windows. The building is basically open-air. I've always found lattice frustrating, but I work out a way to 'reverse' draw it by erasing the black, and this serves the purpose of getting the feel and working quickly. I explain all this to Vilma, and she agrees - that it looks like lattice.
In the end, I sketch slightly down the street. The setup isn't as good (no stool), but I have shade, and as I scope the spot, a nearby vendor (selling hats) engages me. I show him some of the sketches, and he wants me to sketch the scene he looks at - the umbrellas and the curving street. He says it's ok if I set up across from him, and I confirm with the lady selling her wares nearby as well.
I walk up; it's not long until I start getting some views. There are some well-trodden paths and lookout areas. I scope out a few and then find one that looks towards the south (away from the village). There is a modest hill, a quaint house halfway up, a couple beached fishing boats at the bottom, and the rugged seascape beyond that. Telephone poles frame the interesting-looking boat, and I decided this is where I would sketch. There's also a picnic table I can use if needed.
I walk down the hill to look at the boat a bit closer and see if a few are there. It's interesting, but the best view is at the top. Walking down the mountain path I wonder about snakes - are there snakes here? I stomp a bit and text Jen later, asking about snakes. "I think all the mongoose on the island eat them," she reassures me. "Oh yeah - that tracks on the mongoose. God bless the mongoose!"
I love these Aunties. I ask if they have lemonade. The one running the place - Margeret - says they don't, but they'll make me some. She instructs her partner (whose name I forgot) to make me some. It's on her, Margret says. She asks me my name. "Colin. I can remember that. My husband's name is Colis." I joke that her nickname must be Maggie, and she says her husband always calls her this.
I scout a spot at the north side of Swan St. I can see the parking garage behind me, and in front of me is a fellow selling pillows (I'm looking past him for the sketch) - beyond him - a fruit stand with about 5-7 young men hanging out but maybe only 1-2 of them actually running the place. They are compelling subjects - well dressed, chatting and interacting with all sorts of people on the street - slightly boisterous, as young men are, but the fact that they have a fruit stand - and are interesting-looking characters makes me think they should be the subject of the sketch. I'm back about 20 feet from them - it gives me a better view of the beautiful street, but also positions me in front of a lamppost that I can lean on and also will help provide me with security on my backside.
Another few minutes down the road, and I scope a spot - my eyes have adapted to the street life. I pull a sharp left up a narrow, steep road and pull into a parking lot. I eventually learn this is a parking lot for a mid-sized whole foods type store (which appears closed to me, as it is entirely shuttered up, and the lot is 90% empty… but, good for me). Across from the organic grocery is a proper little 'fish cutter' joint - it's a retrofitted garage - painted in rasta colours, with Christmas lights hanging, hand-painted signs, locals AND tourists hanging out front, and really charming. The organic grocery is two stories and can provide me with a bit of shade along the side… it's about a 1.5-meter gap of shade… for now.
I stop out front of the beach we swam at my second day here. The view back into town is nice here: a winding road, lots of telephone poles, and some shade. I decide to make a 'quick' sketch here - I figured I'd try to do a couple of these, similar to the ones I did in Hull a few years ago. I start working; I'm sort of on the street where cars park as it has a bit better shade, and the sidewalk is narrow, so I don't want to block it. I'm basically standing in front of a parked car. After a few minutes of sketching, a non-local couple passes by me and slows down, then the man pauses and asks, "Are you writing us a parking ticket?" I laugh and tell them no, "I just started making a sketch - do they even give out parking tickets here?" and quickly show them the few lines I've got down. They say they have no idea if they give out tickets but are glad. The woman reassures me, "You don't look anything like a parking enforcer."
I'm dripping sweat, droplets keep hitting the iPad, my shirt is damp, and my hair is wet, but thankfully, the only thing getting a bit of sun is the bottom of my legs. A noisy bird is in the tree above me. The sketch takes me about two hours, and I'm ready to finish, hot and tired, the sketch gets a bit messy at the end. I walk across the street and show the woman the sketch. She takes the iPad and looks closely. She likes it. "You got the colours right," and "It looks like you, Steve," she says to the man. "Can you send it to me?" I say sure, can I WhatsApp her - Steve is insistent the woman immediately give her WhatsApp number. Her name is Shelley, and I text the image over, and she says she would like to print it out; I say that's ok, and I'll give her a high-resolution version. She stares at the image for a while and then tranfers it to her own tablet and props that up.
I've selected another aisle seat, and it's beside one window seat. The woman sitting there is literally half my size - quite elderly - wearing a mask - and Begian. I say hello, and she greets me immediately, and we quickly exchange pleasantries. She tells me she was born in Barbados but moved to Quebec and now lives in Toronto. She is returning home to visit along with her adult children, who are probably around my age. They are sitting a half row up in the middle, and the grown son turns around a few minutes later - looks at his Mom directly and mouths, "Are you ok?" - which I take to mean, "Are you ok with sitting beside this giant wild haired man?" I wave to him and say, "Hello, how you doing?" which he doesn't respond to, and his mother motions for him to 'leave her alone, thank you very much, she'd much rather talk to me than switch seats with him.'