Curatorial statement

You've read the story of Laura James in her Artist Statement in Voices. In this Gallery, she speaks specifically about her Nannies and Other Mothers painting series. Additional information about each painting can be found in the notes below the each gallery wall. Be sure to use the navigation tool on the lower left of your screen to move from one gallery wall to the next--Lizzetta

Laura's Statement

In Nannies and Other Mothers I attempt to shed light on a subject long neglected by popular culture. Although everyone knows they exist, the image of the Caribbean Nanny slants toward the invisible. After all, isn’t she supposed to blend into the background, to anticipate the whims of her charges as quietly as possible? I imagine the role of the Caribbean Nanny as a Black Superwoman, able to take care of her own children (although they may be miles away in the country of her birth), her charges, her husband, her church, and her home… What is she feeling? How does she juggle this dual life? Is she content with her role as nurturer to someone else’s child while her own children wonder when she will come back for them?
Although nannies are always women, entire families are affected. Where’s mommy, why is she taking care of someone else’s kids? The answer is one of necessity; it’s a job, a means to an end—a legal way to citizenship, although it may take 5 years to get those elusive 'papers'.
The mothers depicted in the series fare no better. Unruly children running through the house, food to cook, clothing to sew, and messes to clean… sometimes she tunes them out… could it be that Mother has other things on her mind? Might she be wondering how her identity got so inexplicably wrapped up with the children?
Countless women have left their families to come to America, the UK, and Canada in search of a better life. Leaving behind children with mean and depressed fathers, grandparents, cousins, and friends; these mothers would sometimes leave in the middle of the night, stunned children would wake up in the morning to find that Mommy has gone “a foreign”, with the promise that everything will be better now, she’ll get a job and send for you, soon, soon”. And although she would usually fulfill her promise, “soon, soon” was never soon enough. Of course ten or fifteen years without your mother can be very painful, and many Caribbean men and women have carried those scars of parental abandonment. Indeed, ‘normal’ family life can be skewed to something unrecognizable.
Nannies, and Other Mothers relay a story that spans centuries; I want to show how we can’t seem to shake this legacy and the colonial mentality it employs. A tradition of abandoning children, physical, verbal and sexual abuse, the dream of emigrating overseas, and what happens there. I don’t want to show a stereotypical view of Caribbean Blacks, but from my research into the slave heritage of the region, and from traveling there, I see how Caribbean culture was shaped long ago by the ruling class, and this process still occurs today. While looking deeper into the region’s slave history I was struck with the realization that my parents' behavior, good or bad, was directly related to their unsympathetic upbringing, and the world-views of their day.
While immigrants continue to build this country by providing cheap labor, we have the audacity to say we won’t allow illegal immigration. It’s no secret that people the world over have come to this country, from slaves to professionals, and have built it up by taking care of the more privileged classes. Immigrants have been crucial to making this country what it is, from bridge building to child rearing. Why should such an important ingredient in the development of this nation remain invisible?
Although thousands of people share these experiences, this is a topic that is not discussed. Seeing these paintings sometimes prompt people to tell me their tales… one woman told me about how both she and her mother lived in with a family when she was a child. The family they lived with was from Germany, and as a result she learned to speak German. Then again a Jamaican man told me about how his father brought a woman up from Barbados to take care of him while his mother worked. This woman lived with them for many years, and he feels closer to her than to his own mother. I only found out that my mother left my oldest sister from the ages of 2-9 while researching this topic.
Like so many Caribbean people in America, the U.K. and Canada, my parents were ultimately successful. They owned property, their children went to college, they were able to return to Antigua to live in a huge house in an exclusive neighborhood (“no Mr. James, you cannot keep goats in your yard!”). They didn’t forget how they got there either, and although their stories may leave a sour aftertaste, they don’t seem to have any animosity toward their former situation. On the contrary, my parents think they did all right. Last summer while my mother visited NY, her first call was to one of ‘her ladies’, the daughter of one of her employers. She had worked for the mother, and the daughter, cleaning their houses in turn. They spoke for an hour, and this woman sent flowers for her the following day. I must admit I felt a chill to see how happy my mother was at this kind gesture…
Through the years my parents have mellowed, and are now willing to talk about themselves. My father has long sold all his property in Brooklyn, (“ you don’t need my houses, your husbands will take care of you…”), most of the family has moved from NY. Several years ago the teachers showed up at one of my exhibitions. “Maypole Mother” was featured on the invitation, and they told me it reminded them of my mother, and they were compelled to come.

Laura James

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