The Dark Laboratory Presents
I’m New Here:
Black and Indigenous Ecologies
The Warriors of huracÁn
By Abigail Hadeed
Biography
Abigail Hadeed is a Trinidadian photographer and producer who has been documenting the Caribbean and the Americas for the past 30 years. She is synonymous with her black and white photographs of steelbands, traditional carnival, theatre, Caribbean descendants in Central America (Trees Without Roots, published in 2006), and the indigenous people of Guyana’s Rupununi savannah (Commonwealth Photographic Awards winner, 2006). Hadeed’s archives owe much to her ability to discover people and places at the crossroads of an unresolved past and an impending future, torn between pain and possibility, disquiet and hope. Her deeply felt images are the fusing of eye and instinct, a stalking through shadow and light of what can only be glimpsed.
In November 2018 Hadeed’s unpeopled and introspective The Weight of Water, an exhibit a decade in the making, opened in Port of Spain, Trinidad. A meditation on nature and alienation – pollution, consumption, and the link between environmental and spiritual degradation – it coursed through Trinidad’s waters to as far north as the Bahamas archipelago. Hadeed’s work has been featured at the Americas Society (New York), Biennials in São Paulo, Brazil 1998, and Havana, Cuba 2006, in Pictures from Paradise: A Survey of Contemporary Caribbean Photography at the Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival in Toronto, Canada, and is also part of the permanent collection of Light Work, Syracuse, NY, USA.
The Warriors of Huracán is Trinidad’s last surviving Black Indian band, part of a transgressive traditional mas culture rooted in the island’s history of slavery and resistance…of master and slave mocking and reinterpreting each other behind costumes and masks, and of the enslaved’s faiths, rhythms and imaginations subverting fierce suppression. Black Indians were the offspring of Africans and Amerindians. Each increasingly commercial Carnival, the Orisha-linked Warriors dance and chant through the streets and across the Savannah stage in rituals of a spiritual nature, wearing mostly black costumes handmade from local corbeau feathers, river beads, chip-chip or snail shells, and cow horns. Though marginalized by Carnival administrators and mass-produced party bands, they reclaim with apt ceremony what was denied during slavery and post-emancipation: the freedom of the individual, and of a people, to choose and celebrate their own spirituality, and to express themselves culturally.
In Abigail Hadeed’s words:
“I have been photographing Black Indian and traditional mas for three decades. Of particular interest is the Black Indian association with Orisha, the once-outlawed spiritual practice I’ve been documenting over the years. I am fascinated by the parallel between the West African masking rites used by Black Indians and how Orisha was practised in secret, to the point of “hiding” within Catholicism. I hope my archives will help us eschew the colonial point of view in favour of our own gaze. “