Everett H. Scott

New York, NY

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I arrived at Princeton in the Fall of 1973, committed to becoming a photographer. This was also the beginning of Emmet Gowin’s tenure as Photographer in Residence. He was our guide and shaman. We were his students and acolytes.

 

Like generations of teachers before him, he shared the lessons he had absorbed from his mentors, which in this case included Harry Callahan and Frederic Sommer. Sommer’s book The Poetic Logic of Art and Aesthetics, became our handbook. Prior to our weekly meetings, we students passed untold hours in the darkroom in an effort to give form and substance to the ineffable, on an 8 X 10 sheet of paper. Then, in class Emmet would discuss concepts such as “Placement is primary,” and the notion of an artist being “poignantly obsessed” which I took to mean an unshakeable determination to filter life through – in our case – a photographic lens.

 

“Obsessed” would certainly be an appropriate descriptor for my fascination with Lamu, Kenya, the subject of my thesis project, examples of which are presented here. Located in the Indian Ocean, just a few degrees south of the equator, Lamu, (emphasis on the first syllable), is the heart and soul of Swahili culture in East Africa. It has been a trading entrepôt since the 12th century, but I first discovered it during an extended tour abroad in 1972. Before I ever set foot on the Lamu seafront, I proclaimed that I was “going to love this place,” and I did. I still do, all of these years later. But what was it that I found so appealing?

 

It may have had something to do with my being able to pass for a “local,” once I donned a “kikoi;” (what Americans would consider a kind of sarong,) and It didn’t hurt that the local community embraced me as one of their own. I came to learn that the unique architecture of the old town, characterized by thick coral walls with decoratively carved plaster interiors, were a synthesis of African, Arabic, Persian and even Indian influences. These houses, hundreds of years old, were still lived in though numerous examples of them were in danger of collapse without ever having been documented. Over the years growing up in Trenton, New Jersey, I had watched firsthand as the fabric of the town was destroyed, building by building, with only empty glass-strewn lots in their place. I vowed not to let that happen on Lamu, and I made it my self-appointed mission to document as much of the architecture and the culture that used it as I possibly could. (Note: In 2001, Lamu was addded to the UNESCO list of World Heritage sites.)

 

Not everyone shared my enthusiasm for this project, however, I was lucky in finding a generous patroness, (C.D.) who graciously funded my project for six months.  The corps of the resulting portfolio consists of Potassium Alum toned, gelatin silver prints, on a very matte surface paper. I chose this finish because of the way it seemed to mirror the actual surface and color of Lamu’s plaster walls. I am honored that The Lamu Museum has recently invited me to exhibit these photographs. 

 

Though my contemporary work is often executed using oil paint on canvas, photography is still an essential element of my creative vision, especially in terms of how a picture is composed. In the digital era, technology has rendered non-existent many of the qualities that preoccupied us photography students years ago. Here, for instance, I am thinking of the lustrous qualities of a beautifully printed Ansel Adams gelatin silver print, though there are other differences. Placement is still primary.

 

With time, I have distilled my approach to picture-making to be expressed in the phrase “Indicate and vindicate.” That is, make your mark, (press your shutter, make your brush stroke), and in doing so, one’s creative intentions are brought into being and vindicated.