Neat. That’s my feeble attempt to describe the late Carolle Bourne’s style of expression.
She was able, with a few paragraphs, to describe the highs and lows of any art show, book or performance, while simultaneously ending her articles by encouraging the public to experience it for themselves.
No drawn-out description of what occurred or the long-winded trite that sometimes passes for analysis! Carolle neatly put the story together and got her point across.
By the end of her critique, whether biting or complimentary, you knew exactly how she felt. It was the same with her conversations.
I had the privilege of working with Carolle on THE NATION’S Scene and Shine lifestyle magazines; and when the WEEKEND NATION’S 16-page entertainment section was renamed Groove under my editorship some years ago, Carolle had already retired but I insisted space be found for her visual art reviews.
They were discussed among artists. They had their place amid the sound and fury of musical reports and graphic photos of revellers and microphone-wielding artistes.
It was all art to me, and to Carolle Bourne.
When asked about the need for “hard news” stories coming out of the now defunct entertainment desk that comprised herself, John Sealy, Yvette Best and me, along with the late photographer Charles Hackett, she would make a neat, incisive comment about the fact that the statements by artists in their work were, naturally, newsworthy.
Art was her passion but never was she territorial.
“Why don’t you check it out, Ricky?” she would ask with a chuckle when an art show approached; which meant she was either encouraging me to broaden my horizon or daring me to tread into that technical arena.
Carolle was encouraging and, while punctuating our every conversation with an enquiry about the well-being of “Penlee and the kids”, she would wish me success in my varying roles as entertainment editor, associate editor, acting DAILY and WEEKEND editor and columnist.
She would also encourage me to read some of the local writers, having long ago given me a copy of her book, Saraband (The Incomplete Works of Caroline Ravenspeare).
Our last chat was a week before she passed away on Sunday, April 22. She left a message on my phone complimenting me on a “pretty neat” story I had done on Harry Belafonte’s daughter during the CaribbeanTales Film Festival.
When I called back, we had a lively discussion about film and journalism, as well as the burning need for artistic – she would say “arty” – people to feel relevant in a world where so much vies for individual attention.
Little did I know it would be my last time teasing her about her description of things as “neat”.
I’ll miss Carolle, and so will her son Ian, his wife Vanity and other relatives and friends, because she was “anything but typical”.
Still on the arts, I’m surprised the local kaiso/soca fraternity saw it timely to have a discussion entitled Is Crop Over Music In Decline? When Will We See Another Hit?
Has it really been so long since Barbados had a hit? What is a hit?
If local calypsonians and soca artistes are seeking validation from, for instance, the annual International Soca Monarch Contest in Trinidad, then, yes, we’ve not had a hit out of Crop Over since Biggie Irie won the Groovy Soca title in 2007.
But if a hit is to be judged by the listener response it immediately creates, then I contend that we continue to produce hits which are sung by the smallest child, keep grooving in your head, and roll off your tongue like rain water from a rooftop.
Something’s Happening by Red Plastic Bag was the song of Crop Over 2010 and, while I don’t remember if it won anything, its simple lyrics wrapped in lots of brass made it a massive favourite.
That typifies a hit; and while no one can take listeners’ emotions to the shop, aren’t music and art worth more than dollars?
