Adam [antikvár]

I started taking photograplis in 1949, four years after my first art exhibit, because I was frustrated with painting—^you can't paint as fast as you can see; no matter how quickly your hand moves, you still have to wait for the paint to dry; you still have to acquire patience. Tliere was enormous beauty around me in Trinidad, and my eyes were already trained to see It—through my paintings, through my brother, who was a dancer, through the people around me. I was learning fast, but I was lonely. I couldn't express myself; I stammered so badly that I literally couldn't speak to people without their laughing. I didn't read aloud in school because they would laugh at me. But I was a bitch of a painter and dancer, and it was through dance and painting that I got back at them. The members of my brother's dance company were especially beautii'ul: Indians, Chinese, Portuguese, dancers with marvelous bodies. Of course, I wanted to paint all of them. But the camera could record their beauty immediately, stop the action much more quickly. So I bought tliis little camera. My first photogi-aphs were of two friends of mine, a striking Chinese-Creole woman and a very black, very beautii'ul man. I took tliem to a desolate part of Poi-trof-Spain, a baiTen wasteland of a place down by the docks, and they both posed for me—fabulous poses. I began to click my camera. And click again. After that, I wanted to photograph everyone. I was making a living as a clerical assistant on the wharves, and all of tlie men who came to clear goods had to visit my office so I could stamp the bills of lading. One of them asked if I would photograph him; I made some portraits, and he was pleased. He asked me to phofogiaph his ^vlfe and, later, his chilcl. After that, the other men started asking me to take their photographs. They were all vain, so I ticWed More of the early photo sessions