The Ghost Nets series is an exploration for me of material reality in the Caribbean as a metaphor for the complexity of identity in the region, but also the ecological avarice of men. I began exploring the idea of nets as part of reading Homer’s Odyssey as not only a relatable maritime narrative linking the Mediterranean to the Caribbean, and also wrestling with Derek Walcott’s acclaim for recontextualizing it in Omeros. Book 11 describe Odysseus having to make amends for his offences during his journey and it required him carrying an object inland until people didn’t recognize what it was:

“But after you have killed these suitors in your own palace,
either by treachery, or openly with the sharp bronze,
then you must take up your well-shaped oar and go on a journey
until you come where there are men living who know nothing
of the sea, and who eat food that is not mixed with salt, who never
have known ships whose cheeks are painted purple, who never
have known well-shaped oars, which act for ships as wings do.
And I will tell you a very clear proof, and you cannot miss it.
When, as you walk, some other wayfarer happens to meet you,
and says you carry a winnow-fan on your bright shoulder,
then you must plant your well-shaped oar in the ground, and render
ceremonious sacrifice to the lord Poseidon.” (Lattimore, 11. 119–130)

Homer. The Odyssey. Translated by Richmond Lattimore, Harper & Row, 1967.

I explored this in Bolivia by tying knots into a net and having discussions with the local Guarani people in Santa Rosa de Cuevo

Following this, I found a ghost net that was a piece of art itself. Handmade and fitted with bits of sandals, pieces of wood, and other floating implements, put together by a fisherman to ply his trade. I started by taking this ghost net as a muse and painting it, looking for how I can explore its complexity as a metaphor.

Ghost Nets II, 24″ x 30″ Ink and Acrylic on Canvas

While book 11 was centered around Odysseus’ journey into the underworld to understand what he had to do next, Book 12 of the Odyssey involves Cerce instructing Odysseus on how to evade the dangerous sirens he would soon encounter. I have been tuned into the translation of the Odyssey done by Emily Harris where the entire story has a decidedly more feminine (and likely more accurate) translation. Having read poems by Sappho and understanding that ancient Greek men may have feared expressive women, I am exploring, with these figures added to the nets, how the sirens may embody the misunderstood. Sirens waking and inspecting fine nets that may make for attire, not the murderous entities peddled by fearful men.