Vulgar Fraction Mas 2022
Mas Mourning—Becoming Wreaths is a university undergraduate course assignment designed by Dr. Marsha Pearce in collaboration with Vulgar Fraction, an Independent Carnival Masquerade band based in Trinidad and Tobago, and led by Robert Young. In 2022, Vulgar Fraction conceived the idea of a masquerade presentation that embraces carnival, or mas, as memorial. According to Robert Young, the mas explores “remembering, commemorating, celebrating people who are new ancestors and older ancestors.” He points to the many national cultural icons who have died of COVID-19 and other causes in the recent past. “Because of COVID, we have not been able to say goodbye in real ways,” says Young. To produce a cohesive mas band, Vulgar Fraction envisioned costumes made of dried leaves. “Dried materials are accessible and sustainable. These are materials we often throw away or ignore, but we can use them for costume making,” Young adds. “Use of these materials is an effort to find beauty in decay. But we must also note that creation cannot occur without destruction. The decay of plant materials allows life.” Students taking the course titled Critical Readings in Caribbean Arts and Culture, facilitated by Dr. Pearce and teaching assistants Omari Ashby and Brendon LaCaille, were asked to consider what it means to “become wreaths” and translate their interpretation in the form of a costume. A wreath is a symbol of remembrance. Its circular shape also represents eternal life, continuity, and persistence. The wreath, therefore, is not only a means of memory, of reflecting on the past, it also looks to the future as a celebration of life—the victory of the eternal spirit over death. In the following pages, we share costumes created by the students, supported by brief statements that give insight to the designs. ••• Critical Readings in Caribbean Arts and Culture is a required course for all arts students (visual arts, music, theatre, dance and carnival) pursuing Bachelor’s degree programmes at the Department of Creative and Festival Arts, the University of the West Indies (UWI), St. Augustine Campus. The course is also part of the Minor in Cultural Studies programme at the University. On the cover (front and back): Shakira Burton’s costume, “The Rise of Phoenix.” Images courtesy Shakira Burton. Catalogue layout: Marsha Pearce
Becoming Wreaths
Marsha Pearce, PhD Remarks given on February 17th 2022, at the launch of Vulgar Fraction’s Carnival Presentation: Mas Mourning—Becoming Wreaths In thinking about what I would share with you this evening, I’ve identified two ways in which we might consider what it means to become wreaths. One meaning has to do with our natural tendency, inclination, or impulse—becoming wreaths as an instinctive act. The second meaning is tied to intention—becoming wreaths by design, becoming wreaths as a deliberate or conscious act. While I make this distinction, there is some shared ground. Whether we become wreaths by instinct or by intention, both approaches are future oriented. Being suggests a current, present state. Becoming looks ahead to time to come. What is significantly different in becoming wreaths instinctively and becoming wreaths in a more conscious way, is that one is likely to lead us to closure in the future, a people closed off from each other, while the other has the potential for openness, connection, and community. Let me explain what I mean. We have a picture in our minds of what a wreath looks like: leaves and/or flowers twisted or wound around a circular frame. When we look at the history of the word “wreath”, that is, where the word came from, we find that it is linked to the word “writhe.” And with that word, we get another mental picture. To writhe is to contort the body, to twist and curl the body in response to emotional discomfort, mental anguish, or physical pain. In this collective trauma of the pandemic, many, if not all of us have had cause to curl ourselves up. In an article published last year, titled “The Pandemic Has Changed How We Sleep” writer Elizabeth Rhodes shares that a large percentage of people are now sleeping in the fetal position. Head bowed and legs brought up tightly against the body. It is an instinctive posture, “human nature during hard times” (Laurence 2021), a protective position to guard against further hurt. In this battle against
the coronavirus, we are wound up, our bodies writhing in contexts of loss and the threat of demise. It is in this sense that I mean we are instinctively becoming wreaths. We are shrinking into small circles, our bodies becoming like tight fists—unable to grasp this moment or the next; a sign of being emotionally closed off. And yet, what if we opened ourselves up in this challenging time? Opened our future? Novelist Arundhati Roy says, “the pandemic is a portal” an opening or doorway for us to walk through “ready to imagine another world.” This is not, therefore, a time of closure. We must match it by being open, ourselves. I see Becoming Wreaths as a call or invitation from Vulgar Fraction to a conscious act of opening, a deliberate shifting of ourselves from small, tight circles to something monumental; an intentional acknowledgement of ourselves and each other, a reaching inward, and a reaching out. To see ourselves as wreaths is to widen the circle to remember and include our ancestors, to recognize those lost to us years ago, last month, last week, yesterday, today; It is to widen the circle to honour those still with us; a wreath for the dead and the living, an infinite loop that is more than endings. A cycle powerfully marked by healing and beginnings. A celebration of life. The circle or wreath as motion, as movement in contrast to the paralysis, or the going-nowhere-ness that immense grief can cause.
It is with this understanding that I chose to collaborate with Vulgar Fraction, to have my students at the University of the West Indies undertake as their course assignment this sense of becoming wreaths; to engage in this deliberate act. Learning is itself an act of becoming that always takes us into the future, anticipating a tomorrow. I wanted, therefore, to weave these acts of becoming together. We often think about education in terms of the intellect— the mind—but learning also takes place at the dimensions of emotion and the spirit. To ask my students to consider becoming wreaths is to be aware of their wholeness, the fullness of their humanity. Given the existing health protocols, including the practice of social distancing, my students will not participate in a physical, street procession. Yet, we will still process. We will attempt to work through and work out what we are feeling. We will attempt to reimagine ourselves more broadly—self as a community; a great circle charting itself with the art of mas.
_________________________ References Laurence, Emily. “Why More People Might Now Be Sleeping in the Fetal Position Than PrePandemic,” March 9, 2021. Accessed February 15, 2022. https://www.wellandgood.com/sleeping-in-fetal-position/ Rhodes, Elizabeth. “The Pandemic Has Changed How We Sleep,” February 21, 2021. Accessed February 15, 2022. https://www.travelandleisure.com/trip-ideas/yoga-wellness/casper-pandemic-sleep-study Roy, Arundhati. “The Pandemic is a Portal,” April 3, 2020. Accessed February 15, 2022. https://www.ft.com/content/10d8f5e8-74eb-11ea-95fe-fcd274e920ca
Shakira Burton Nearing the end of its life, the phoenix enters a nest of flames and appears to have perished but magically the bird emerges from the ashes and is born again— symbolising resurrection, healing, rebirth, and life after death. The connection between the phoenix bird and “Becoming Wreaths” is recreation. This bird has become my symbol of hope because of its ability to recreate itself. It is so powerful and resilient. Even when all is lost, the bird can still rise again. Although the pandemic has taken so much from us, we can still rise from the ashes and emerge new people. If there is life after death, there can also be life after grief. This design entitled, “The Rise of Phoenix” represents mas as memory, honouring what we have lost but also celebrating the opportunity to be reborn. I used two leaves in “The Rise of Phoenix”: coconut and fig leaves. Coconut leaves are woven together to create the top of this design. The technique of weaving involves moving the leaves under and over, causing the leaves to lean on each other for support. I chose this technique because it gives a visual of how we have supported each other throughout the pandemic. It is a representation of strength and victory. Together we are stronger, and we can overcome the struggles of this pandemic if we weave ourselves together. The fig leaves create the body of the design. These leaves represent the things we keep hidden. In this design, they are a symbol of our grief. We often hide our grief because we are not able to properly articulate how we feel. However, just as there is beauty in this design, there is beauty in grief. The loss of a loved one is not something we ever get over, but rather something we grow around, learning new ways to cope with what has happened. I chose fig leaves to be a representation of that growth and process of healing. We cannot shed our grief. Instead, we learn how to carry it gracefully, and that makes us beautiful. Finally, in this design we see a hint of colour: the green leaves I have placed in my hair. This is a reminder of the celebration of life.
Satrohan Rajkumar This costume design entitled the “Earth Angel Wreath” embodies elements of tropical vegetation associated with spiritual energy for honouring the cycle of life in the natural world. The foliage selected in the construction of the headpiece, the skirt, the wings and the staff of the costume, consist of bay leaves, coconut palms, mango leaves, purple para grass and croton leaves. These leaves are used in different cultures for ritual worship. They represent different spiritual energies, such as the bay leaf for positive energy, the coconut palm leaf for cleansing energy and the mango leaf for life. Dried coconut branches were used to form the wings as well as to create the structure of the headpiece of the costume. The green bay leaves, used in the costume design, indicate a new beginning. The wooden coconut beads worn around the neck represent the seeds of life as a reminder that many life forms start from a seed. The flora selected for the bouquet on the staff were heliconia flowers, which symbolise glory, purple para grass for growth, croton leaves for change, and shack shack flowers (Crotalaria retusa) usually used as a symbolic remembrance of loved ones.
Mahase Ramdass I have lost several people to the pandemic but one person in particular had a profound impact on me: Samuel Rodney. Samuel, affectionately known as Sam, was not related to me but our bond was strong. He lived in the Blanchisseuse forest, and being a farmer, lived off the land. I am a lover of the outdoors so I spent a great deal of time with him in the forest. Sam taught me the medicinal value of some plants, which tracks belonged to specific animals, the importance of respecting animal territories during mating season—essentially, he taught me to value nature. My memories of him are therefore that of protector of the forest. In memorialising Sam, I elected to do a costume of Papa Bois, father of the forest and protector of the animals and plants. I created two costumes, drawing on the folklore of Trinidad and Tobago, and Yoruba cosmology. The male costume is Papa Bois and the female costume is the African goddess Aja, who is a healer and Orisha of the forest. Papa Bois’ headpiece was constructed using dried coconut branches and dried fig leaves. The hair was achieved by stripping the dried coconut branches. The horns were made by wrapping and gluing dried fig leaves around a foam base. Papa Bois is featured with a necklace. I used dried wood, which I varnished. To represent Papa Bois’ hairy legs, I glued the dried fig leaves to pants. Bands are used on the arms and legs. These bands were made with tree bark and dried fig leaves. Aja’s wings were constructed using PVC pipes wrapped with dried fig leaves. To emulate the feathers, I stripped dried coconut branches. The headpiece features dried flowers glued onto a cardboard headband. The skirt was made by gluing dried fig leaves to a black cloth for a draped effect.
Saniyah Bedeshi When Africans were brought to Trinidad and Tobago to work on the sugar cane plantations, many of them were separated from their families. Mothers were stripped from their children. Husbands away from their wives. Families were forced into crippling mental states. This caused great pain. My costume is a presentation of “The Sugar Cane Fairy,” a character I envision. She brings light and healing to those in grief, to those who suffer loss. The “Sugar Cane Fairy” comes at night and plays a healing bowl. The sound of this bowl has the power to heal broken hearts and restore hope and light within those who hear it. After she plays the bowl for others, she sits for a while on the floor and plays the bowl for herself—as the healer also needs healing. Once she has played for herself, she gets up and starts her ritual again. The wings on this sugar cane fairy are likened to those of an angel. She is adorned in dry leaves so that only the enslaved would be able to see her. When a plantation owner comes she can easily camouflage into the abandoned leaves on the sugar estate. “The Sugar Cane Fairy” acknowledges the pain and grief in people and gives them hope and light in return, thus affirming life and building strength in people. This assignment allowed me to understand the significance of material when creating, and the importance of telling a story through what I make. The dried leaves in this project are a perfect representation of a renewal of something that is destined to be discarded. Turning the leaves into something beautiful is mas itself.
Zacary Sosa In the Caribbean there is a staple household item that spans generations: the Cocoyea broom. This broom is constructed by harvesting the wood-like shaft of a coconut tree leaf. This flexible spine of the leaf is known as the fex or cocoyea fex. It is split, bundled, and then tied together to make cocoyea brooms. The broom exists in many rural, Caribbean homes and is very versatile. However, my focus comes from its spiritual bearings, particularly that of its use in cleansing—the cleansing of space and of spirit. Brooms have spiritual significance in many cultures. In Trinidad and Tobago, the broom is used symbolically and religiously in both African and East Indian spiritualities. For my costume, I looked to the tree from which the cocoyea broom is made: the coconut tree. I thought about the tree in relation to our ancestors and elders who have passed. Even after the leaves (our ancestors, elders) have served their purpose to the tree, they can still be harvested (felt, researched, interpreted) and used for the spiritual cleansing and renewal of our space. I call my mas costume CocoYEA and I envision it performed with a constant spinning and swirling motion, with bent knees and head movements. This mimics the sweeping action of a broom. My costume is made in tribute to the late Anthony Hall, whose lessons in theatre and carnival I will never forget.
Andrew Alexander My costume is entitled “Ras Masai.” It is a tribute to the life, work and legacy of Lutalo Masimba, or Brother Resistance, as he was widely known. Brother Resistance was a pioneer Rapso artiste, social activist and cultural ambassador. The term “Ras” in Ethiopian culture is a royal title. Brother Resistance was a stately and intelligent cultural icon, who was not ashamed to identify with Africa. The Masai tribe of Africa is known for its regal, outstanding red attire, and an elegant and proud stance. Given that Brother Resistance always carried Africa in his heart, I drew influence from the stately Masai of Africa and decided to incorporate their red, which also creates a rich contrast with the dry, brown grass used in the costume. I created a headpiece of khaki and red cloth, with long dried palm leaf blades. This is a direct reference to Lutalo Masimba’s Rastafarian hairstyle. On my arms and legs are small, leaf wreaths arranged close to each other. These wreaths represent or commemorate the various dimensions of the man. These include being an author and stalwart in the area of music, being a Cacique Award nominee for acting, and a recipient of the Hummingbird Medal (Silver) national award for cultural arts and community development.
Curlette Boney This piece symbolises life and death through the form of a bird. The beauty of birds has always been fascinating because they are never tied down. When someone dies, we may feel that they are lost forever, but they are never truly gone. We can envision them as a bird soaring the sky, spreading their wings as guidance for us. The costume’s face mask reveals human features as part of a bird’s beak. Costume materials include dried palm and fig leaves, wire, cloth, sponge, flour, newspaper and paint.
Shania Warris A wreath is traditionally a circular shape made of leaves and flowers that symbolises eternal life. The concept for my “becoming wreaths” costume was to reimagine the Dame Lorraine and take this traditional mas character and modernise it, to an extent. The Dame Lorraine that we know was once inspired by the style of rich French planter’s wives. The character we know today is a woman adorned with an exaggerated bottom and breasts. However, in the past, it was not a single character, and each variation was portrayed by men. As times changed, so did the costume. This sparked my idea. There is much talk of traditional masquerade dying due to the commercialisation of carnival and the shift to pretty mas or “beads and bikinis.” I wanted to explore ideas of loss and life. Rather than letting this Dame Lorraine artform die, I thought: Why not merge the traditional mas with the pretty mas and give it new life? In this way, the Dame Lorraine costume is ever evolving and thus becomes eternal, as it adapts to the society.
Adira Khan The spirals in this costume are placed at the head, and near the stomach and heart, where we feel the effects of pain and loss. They are used to reference turmoil and anxiety but spirals also symbolise life and perseverance—meanings that are also significant in this work. The central spiral was made using twisted coconut leaves. The spiral headpiece was created by curving palm branches. The face is veiled to represent hidden emotions. Yet, this veil is stripped to suggest a breaking out of emotional numbness, and a processing of feelings in an effort to move forward in life. The skirt is made with coconut leaves and stems presented crosshatch style. Its arrangement communicates a struggle to function in a world that keeps moving, and the grief we attempt to seal “behind bars.” Like the veil covering the face, the skirt also suggests a breaking through to mourn—to deal with internal grief—and live.
Solange Ellis This costume is made using dried bamboo leaves and long sheets of dried bamboo skin. The crown is made from a dried plant called Shandilay, which is believed to have medicinal healing properties (Shandilay or Chandelier Bush is used as a remedy for colds). The spiked ball of the Shandilay plant is stuck in a symmetrical pattern around the circumference of the forehead as a means of protecting the spirit through its transition. The costume honours carnival practitioners lost during the pandemic, and the carnival spirit.
Shannan Hardath My costume is inspired by the traditional carnival character called the Pierrot Grenade. I wanted to layer the dried leaves in a manner that mimicked the fabric arrangement of the Pierrot’s dress. The leaves and grasses used in my design, all have significance to me and my ancestry. The mango leaves and kush grass are both used in Hindu rituals. The kush grass, in particular, is used during funerary rites. The cane leaves allude to the occupation of my ancestors, who worked as sugar cane farmers when they came as indentured labourers to Trinidad. The bay leaves are used extensively in our local cuisine. The brown cotton fabric used for the inner garb, and as the dyed base for the leaves, represents my Indian ancestry as the Indus valley civilisation has the first recorded use of this fabric. The wreath headpiece, made of green leaves, represents life and death as a cycle, and that the process of death happens in stages. When we are medically dead, the body is still alive on a cellular level. It is only when we are committed to the earth, or cremated, that the process of death is completed.
Lisa Parris This costume is inspired by Greek mythology. It represents the goddess of the underworld Persephone, also known as Kora. As seeds are sown underground and then sprout to life, so too is Persephone’s role a dual one: she symbolises death and life. Above ground, she manifests as spring and is depicted with grains and flowers. Dried leaves from the palm plant, and another wild weed, were collected for the costume. Almond leaves were used to frame the waist. The headpiece is made of Bougainvillea flower vines. (Costume modeled by Kimberly Christopher)
Jewel Jack My costume is entitled “Bird of Paradise.” The bird is featured on the five-cent coin of Trinidad and Tobago. The Greater Bird of Paradise was introduced to Little Tobago, an island off the northeastern coast of Tobago, in the early twentieth century. After Hurricane Flora hit the island, the population of birds became extinct. I felt that this loss, along with the bird’s immortalization, by way of the coin, were themes I could explore. The costume represents the grief people are feeling during this pandemic. People have lost homes, businesses and loved ones. The shape of the mask creates anonymity—unless we know the person, we will never have intimate knowledge of who lost what in this pandemic. The yellow around the eyes symbolises the hope that things will one day get better. The blue on the crown represents the harsh realities plaguing our minds. I followed the yellow-tail pattern of the bird up the back of the costume, and near the spine on the wings, to show that hope of a better tomorrow, and love from others, are all some people have to strengthen them. The wings, which are usually associated with freedom, are blue to show the hardship weighing people down. The costume’s colour arrangement— yellow and blue—shows that hope and despair exist in harmony like yin and yang.
Carlene Thomas I used various dried materials to form circular patterns on the skirt. I wanted to suggest the circle of life. These materials were in my backyard, but I had never paid much attention to them. I wanted to transform them into something beautiful. I also used a piece of dried deer skin I had. It is said that the deer signifies gentleness, awareness of surroundings, love, mindfulness, good luck. Seeing a deer is a good omen and means that your spirit guides are watching over you.
Kerron John My costume is entitled “The Last Masquerader.” The COVID-19 pandemic has had a noticeable impact on the arts sector, which includes carnival. In the last two years the pandemic forced us to question the future of carnival. The lack of social events and interactions/connections have caused many to feel a sense of loss. The costume reflects on the past, present and future of carnival. The dried fig leaves represent death—a loss of energy or life. In contrast, red flowers are added to symbolise a passion for carnival.
Kwasi Joseph This costume represents “Mother Carnival,” a majestic figure hailing from the hills of Laventille, who comes to impart inspiration and life to the people of Trinidad and Tobago. She carries a frond-like broom, which she uses to sweep the nation clear of anguish, preparing the land for invention and creation in the year 2022. She wears ceremonial attire, with copper tones to emphasise her nobility. Burlap fabric serves as the foundation of this costume, representing our soil. Different types of cloth are utilised in this ensemble to suggest the various people and cultures represented at our carnival. Handcrafted bows and frills are used to depict traditional carnival characters such as the Dame Lorraine, Speechifier, and Burrokeet. Shards of gold and brown textiles pay homage to the Midnight Robber and the Jab Jab, while the Pierrot Grenade, who continues to tell our stories, is symbolised by the puff sleeve. Fronds were used to make the root-like designs on the gown in a depiction of a “Tree of Carnival Life.” It stands as a symbol of our rapidly growing culture and rich development as a nation, with gold stones accentuating the gown. By capturing the essence and impact of our carnival culture, this piece pays tribute to those we have lost along the way during the pandemic.
Jaron Saunders For my costume, I considered the emotions one might feel during a period of bereavement. This pandemic has left an indelible mark on our world—the numerous lives lost, because of the virus, are undeniably devastating. This got me thinking about the grieving process we go through. According to Kübler-Ross, there are five phases of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, and finally acceptance. Loss is difficult but we can attain some type of resolution by allowing ourselves to concentrate on and progressively move through these many facets of grief. I chose to attach green fig leaves to various panels for my masquerade outfit. I then covered the fig leaf cloak with a variety of dried leaves, which were adhered to five smaller panels of cloth. Each of these panels, represents the stages of grief.
Shalini Moonasar The Covid-19 pandemic stirs a range of emotions including grief, fear, and anger. In making my costume, I wanted to symbolise grief, while remembering those lost during this time, and show the glimmer of hope people still hold for the future. These various emotions are seen in the costume’s design. Layers of banana leaves cover the body. Flowers are seen throughout the costume, and longer leaves trail the back. The banana leaves were cut into halves, folded, glued together, and placed on string to create a layered effect. The layers represent the stages of grief— the feeling of being consumed, and the walls we build to protect ourselves from reality. The flowers on the upper half of the costume represent those who are aware that there is hope at the end of grief. The long leaves on the back represent the growth we must go through.
Ayana Ryan This costume is inspired by the Midnight Robber carnival character. It seemed appropriate to consider a character who courts death or embodies it. I focus on the Midnight Robber’s hat. The brown leaves used in the design signify those lost to us. However, there are spots of yellow and green, which suggest that we still have life, and there is hope. The Midnight Robber is also a storyteller—a speaking character. In acknowledging our cultural icons who have passed during this pandemic, we must tell their stories as a way of remembering their contributions to our society.
Saleema Sookoor This costume portrays the idea of being one with the earth. Titled “Woman of the Earth,” the design considers the cycle of life. The earth, of which we are a part, bears life-giving trees. Trees shed their leaves. These leaves return to the earth and are consumed.
Marielle Sims This costume was inspired by Mother Nature. It was designed using a collection of dried palm tree leaves, scraps of twine, fabric and bird wire. The body of the costume was designed to symbolise the numerous deaths that have occurred during this global pandemic. Each leaf represents a single person who succumbed to the virus and has returned to mother nature. The design is constructed over a black dress to help emphasise the idea of grief. The crown was created by combining semi dried leaves and flowers. The leaves were tied using 100% hemp cord, while the flowers were secured in front to mimic the jewels on a queen’s crown. The incorporation of these flowers in the crown represents all the people who have tested positive for Covid-19 and are still fighting for their lives in hospitals today.
Davi Ramnarine This costume/character is inspired by el Día de los Muertos, also known as The Day of The Dead festival of Mexico. Persons celebrate the lives of their deceased loved ones and welcome back their souls to the realm of the living for a short reunion. Design inspiration is also taken from Trinidad’s Baby Doll carnival costume, which features a frilly dress and bonnet. The Baby Doll masquerader also holds a baby. Combining these two festivals, I conceived the idea of a bride who is both grieving and celebrating—a character who experiences loss but carries the hope of reuniting with her husband. The costume is made of “dead” plants and her face is painted as a skeleton, but these symbols also carry a sense of life as the bride understands that death is not the end—it is not “Till Death Do Us Part.” This costumed character carries an urn, mimicking the way the Baby Doll carnival character carries her baby.
Xavier Kistow-Davis My costume consists of a mask, a wreath, and a staff. The design intention is a celebration of life in the context of the pandemic. The staff was created using two dried palm branches: a Madagascar Dragon tree branch and that of the Copperleaf hedge. I chose an ailing plant: the Copperleaf hedge was overrun by mealybugs, insects that suck the juice from host plants. By using branches from this hedge, I acknowledged the idea that death can bring life (the dying plant giving life to the insects), but the plant can survive if the mealybugs are treated. My incorporation of a staff is important in this costume design. Rather than use wings to suggest freedom, I wanted a staff as a means of grasping freedom—freedom in one’s hands. The costume also includes a crown of roses, flowers I received for Valentine’s Day and left to dry in a vase. They reinforce ideas of life and love in these times. Fresh, green bamboo leaves are used for masking the face. This gives an additional symbolic layer that communicates an appreciation for life.
Josanne George-Thomas I chose the cocoa motif to reflect on the demise of the cocoa industry in Trinidad and Tobago. The death of the cocoa industry, as a theme, is significant because in these pandemic times many breadwinners are being retrenched. For my costume, I envisioned a Cocoa Moth character. The Cocoa Moth becomes a herald, not only announcing the death of cocoa but challenging us toward a revival. It uses the death of cocoa as a symbolic springboard to also confront the passing of our cultural icons, while motivating us to keep their traditions alive. The cocoa leaf was the major component of the costume. A wire frame was prepared, the leaves were incorporated, and gold braid was added as a trim accent. We grieve for King Cocoa and our deceased cultural icons, but our grief is not rooted in hopelessness. Our grief can be a raw material that energizes and catapults us into a brighter future.
Chelsea Bailey My costume is entitled “New Bloom.” It represents the emergence of life after death—a new flower after one has died, a new seed sown. Oftentimes when our cultural icons die, we neglect the life or legacy they have left behind. My costume focuses on the great women of Trinidad and Tobago who have passed, and those still present. I chose a very modern sweetheart-neckline, cropped top design. This was intentional to represent a younger generation of women. This top was then lined using strips of dried palm leaves to portray the older generations who have set the foundation for those to come. In making my costume I also considered the idea of community. For my costume’s skirt, I attached dried mango leaves in bundles of three, rather than sticking them one by one. The use of three bundles is symbolic as my parents assisted me in the construction of the costume: one bundle for each of us. To develop our society, we need each other. The bundles suggest this togetherness. Next, brown circles were added using an old brown paper bag. These circles suggest seeds planted in the earth to reap greatness. A face mask, made of dried palm leaves, was also added to reflect present times: COVID-19.
Zenobia Montoute Dick This is “Mama Lata,” derived from the French patois “Mama La Terre”, meaning “Mother of Earth”. Mama Lata is the spirit of the earth. She is both the fertile and the fallow earth, the beginning and the ending, life and death, health and sickness. In the Yoruba belief system, she is the first point of homage after Olodumare. In the traditional Orisha Feast, Mama Lata is honoured in song after Ogun, who comes first. In the Orisha feast it is believed that she sets things off to a good start. From earth we were created and will return. All productivity comes from Mama Lata; she is the earthquake. Appreciate Mama Lata (the earth) and she will keep and preserve you. The masquerader is depicted with a green and brown costume, finished with a crown and wings of dried leaves. The green gown represents the earth’s heart—the heart that gives all things positive. Mama Lata uses her wings to capture all things negative. After capturing negativity with her wings, the leaves turn and remain brown. The heart of Mama Lata, the green part of the costume, makes an exchange: death for life, sickness for health, endings for beginnings. Mama Lata’s crown stands high with brown leaves. CDs are used to create an iridescence seen through the brown leaves. This shows the colours of the rainbow, which symbolise hope and promises of better things to come. A main feature of this costume is the cocoyea flex from the coconut tree branch. The power of the cocoyea flex is understood in Hindu and Orisha faiths. It has the power to cleanse. Mama Lata the spirit of the earth uses the cocoyea to draw and protect.
Arianna Alexander This costume is inspired by the phenomenon of gender-based violence against women and girls in Trinidad and Tobago. It is made using dried palm and mango leaves. It is a garment of protection and draws on the strength of our nation’s historical jamette culture, from which many respected and feared women are birthed—women who are the backbone of our communities.
Dalia Paul I believe that in the midst of grief we can find light. My costume—a long cloak with green leaves—addresses what it means to keep an open mind about what is happening to us. The pandemic has been a traumatic period for everyone. The feeling of being isolated. No work, no money to do anything. Added to this, my grandfather died from this dreadful virus. No one saw it coming and we were left to pick up the pieces. I curled myself up as a form of protection. Yet, with God all things are possible. I decided to look beyond what was happening. I refused to stay in a state of confusion. I explored ways to fulfil financial obligations. I have the authority to control my thinking. I was no longer curled up. A wreath can be beautiful. Makada Julien My costume is a tunic made of dried fig leaves. I envision the garment for a spirit character who comforts those suffering with the coronavirus, and leads them safely to their resting place. When gluing the leaves for the costume, I arranged the leaf veins pointing up and down, rather than left and right, to connect to ideas of the earth and spiritual realms. Kaya Edwards My costume draws inspiration from the Polynesian and ancient Hawaiian Luau event, and the hula skirt made of woven natural fibres. The Luau is used to unite a people in celebration. My costume focuses on our working together during this challenging time, and it gives emphasis to a celebration of life. I used dried palm leaves, along with Bougainvillea and Ixora flowers. Aaliyah Scott My costume focuses on the celebration of life. I wanted to embody the circular nature of a wreath and represent the idea of eternal life or the circle of life. This circle is seen in the costume’s construction which incorporates a wire spiral around the body. Overall, the costume suggests an angel, with a golden wreath “halo” above the head and golden wings on the back.
Uchena Myers I remember being told as a child that when you see a white butterfly, it is a loved one from the spirit realm reminding you that they are with you. I created my costume with this idea in mind, incorporating butterfly wings made with dried palm leaves. The use of circles was important to me, as the shape is that of a wreath. I decided to include the circle as a pattern on the wings. Within each circle is the name of someone who has passed: among them, Singing Sandra, Narrie Approo, Jamie Thomas and The Mighty Bomber.
Shawn Tavares This costume entitled “Tribulation and Aspiration” signifies that wherever there is pain and sorrow, there is also hope. Different types of plants were integrated to suggest these ideas. A crown of chrysanthemums is included, given that these flowers are often used at funerals. The flowers were intertwined with dried bamboo leaves symbolising longevity due to their durability and flexibility—surviving harsh conditions. A mask of brown mango leaves is used as a sign of grief. Green leaves are incorporated in the pants to signify the hope that this pandemic will end. Foxtail ferns are placed on the arms ideas of endurance. A bleedingMAandKlegsFto reinforce HE DEAD heart vine is used as a necklace to represent both the love and sadness we carry for those we have lost.
Michele-Geena Joseph My costume was made using dried banana leaves. The circle is a strong feature of the design, signifying the eternal souls of those who have passed during the pandemic. The costume comprises a semi-circular headpiece, a sleeveless top, a knee-length skirt and two arm bands. For the headpiece, four rectangular pieces of dried banana leaves were formed in upright positions, in a semi-circular shape to replicate the look of half of a wreath. For the top, I cut and attached several rectangular strips of the dried leaves as a way of remembering the many people who have died. Some leaves were also cut shorter and thinner than others to suggest that both young and older people have lost their lives to the virus. I also attempted to create two, small, circular dried-leaf designs at the top of the straps, and a larger circular one in the middle of the top. They help emphasize the idea of wreaths.
Anaashrita Lawrence This costume, made mostly of leaves, was designed with Mother Earth in mind. I was inspired to create a representation of Mother Earth as she begins to recover from the many losses due to this pandemic. Rather than make a costume for myself, I decided to design one for my little sister as I felt she serves as a symbol of the continuity of life. I lost my grandfather on December 23rd, 2021, due to COVID-19. I was devasted by his passing but having my sister around and helping my mom take care of her, reminded me that there is life after death and happiness beyond grief. To bring my idea to life I found brown fabric at a thrift store. I would use it as a base to support the leaves. I felt using material that was donated to a thrift shop would be a relevant pairing with this project’s theme of working with sustainable components. I spray painted a few leaves purple to exude a sense of mourning but also to inject a pop of colour among the brown to represent a releasing of pain and a beginning to move forward. I also decided to create a headpiece to represent a funerary wreath. I added pink flowers to symbolize new life and a brighter future ahead.