My name is Che Lovelace and I'm an oil painter.My "passport" name is Cheikh Sedar Lovelace. Apparently, in 1969, the Anglican Church would not allow me to be christened Che. My parents made my first name Cheikh after the African historian-philosopher, Cheikh Anta Diop. I believe Sedar is after the Senegalese poet Léopold Sédar Senghor. Why they set me up to live up to the standard of such great men, I couldn't tell you.We lived about two miles outside of the main village, so it was like country life within country life. I believe I played a douen in one of the plays produced for the Best Village competition.I always remember the placards that would go up on the lamp-poles when people knew a government official was making a trip along that Toco Main Road: "WE WANT LIGHTS." Every election the candidates would say "Lights coming." But for the entire time we lived there, the lights never came.
TV was a little pop-up black-and-white, eight inches square, with D-size batteries. Thankfully, [elder brother] Walt, always an electronics man, managed to make the TV work with a car battery. Sometimes it would conk out in the middle of Different Strokes. The only way to charge it would be to take that heavy battery down the hill to where the car was parked, start the car, then replace the good car battery with the dead one, and leave the car idling for a while to charge it. It was plenty drama.
The other really memorable aspect of childhood in Matura was so many writers, artists, actors and musicians: Errol Jones, Hugh Robertson (director of Bim), Derek Walcott, Shiva Naipaul, Raoul Pantin, Wilbert Holder, Lawrence Scott. CLR James spent some days with us. He lay in the hammock and recounted stories. Many Sundays were filled with these visitors talking about ideas and the world as I played under tables; it all sounded grand and important; and it probably was.The magic started to fade. I began to travel by taxi every morning to get to QRC, waking at 4 am; my parents were breaking up. In adult life, I set up a studio at a place my mother owns in Matura (different to where we grew up) and worked there for a couple years. I am very close to my mother.
Being my father's son has not made anything easier in my own life. Nor should it. If anything, people appraise you by higher standards. In the end, one has to carve one's own path.
I have a son but live singly. From day one I tried not to make a negative of the fact that his mother and myself are not "together." We work together to give him plenty love and guidance. I hope that never changes.Now I'm a bit older, I find myself drinking less, and hardly ever hard alcohol. I like my beers though, and for the most part, it is all that is necessary for a nice buzz..Trinis too often use our Trinidadian-ness to shield us from the world. We set our standards locally. We must dare to do great things while staying right here in these islands.
Around fourth form, my teacher was Jackie Hinkson. I was really taken by the Spanish Renaissance painter El Greco, his expressive elongated figures, and the moody somber canvases of the Norwegian, Edvard Munch [and] Leroy Clarke's Douens. With this new exposure to Western art in Hinkson's class, I was able to put it into a context to some degree. Even though I did not end up painting in that particular aesthetic, Leroy has always epitomised the journey of the artist here.
Most of the time, when I have an idea I feel may work for a painting, I make a small drawing in my notebook, maybe with a few notes, so I can remember the idea in some detail. Sometimes I begin with no preconceived idea, I just freestyle it straight from my head and see where it leads.
One of the trickiest things is to figure out when to leave a painting alone. I usually try to leave it once I feel there is a quality in the image that makes me want to keep looking at it. Sometimes paintings may look finished but, in fact, they hold no mystery. For it to be considered finished, there has to be an aspect of the painting that cannot quite be grasped, something you can't quite put your finger on, but something you are happy to keep searching for while looking at the painting. Many times, I wish I'd put on another stroke. At other times, I've taken paintings way too far.
Usually I get to the studio by mid-morning, work till about 4pm. Then I go spend time with my son. I return to the studio at about 8 pm and work until midnight or 1 am. If I feel I'm on a roll, I'll stay later-and pay the price next morning. I can sometimes get five or six hours work done at this time without distraction.
I don't own an easel.
I maintain a daily practice of painting. I do prefer to paint when I am in the mood, but I don't think I can afford such a luxury at this point. So if I do not feel like painting, the best way to induce the mood is to pick up old unresolved pieces and just start putting paint on them.
