Cazabon’s legacy

The exhibition of Michel Jean Cazabon’s paintings saw scores of nationals make the exact same pilgrimage; we were part of the very last group that would see his work displayed at the Diplomatic Centre.

As a child, I always wanted my own Cazabon. My fascination with this artist who portrayed Trinidad in the 19th century through his paintings did not diminish over time. There was however always a nagging question in my mind – what did he look like? I overheard someone from the National Museum talking and I decided to take a chance. When I asked if there were any images of him, she looked at me and then said “come”.

Heart thumping, I followed her to one of the paintings. She explained that researchers believed that the image of the man depicted was the man himself. There in the foreground of a painting called “Old Woodbrook Estate” was the small figure of a black man elegantly dressed in the style of the period holding something in his hand, perhaps a canvas for one of his paintings. Staring at the image, I barely felt her leave.

My research afterwards uncovered Cazabon’s rather complex existence. His family came to Trinidad from Martinique, after the 1783 Cedula of Population was passed by the Spanish government to make it easier for French planters to settle here.

“Under this law, incentives such as free land and exemption from paying most taxes were granted.” Cazabon’s family were “Free coloureds”, a term now regarded as racist, as his French grandfather had three children with a black woman. His grandfather had moved to Martinique in the 1720s; Francois was Michel Jean’s father.

In Trinidad, Cazabon’s family lived in the South on their sugar plantation called Corynth.

His family prospered; they were themselves owners of enslaved people. Yet, it is said that even as a free person of considerable wealth and artistic flair, Cazabon struggled with issues of acceptance and belonging.

Being of African heritage in the 1830s would have earned him distrust from both the enslaved and the white hierarchy. Nevertheless, Cazabon benefitted from his comfortable financial circumstances, as he was educated in England, afterwards going to Paris where he studied art with the masters. His success as an artist speaks to his great talent, as he exhibited in Paris between 1843-1847, a remarkable feat for someone of colour.

Cazabon returned to Trinidad in the late 1840s, after emancipation.

For a time he did well, but his fortunes declined when his sponsor, Lord Harris, left Trinidad.

He moved with his French wife to Martinique, believing that he would be more comfortable in that society, but apparently found that racist divisions persisted there as well. “Cazabon returned home in 1870, a disillusioned man.” My childlike adulation has faded, replaced by a more clinical assessment of the man and his work. It would be a mistake, I think, to romanticise his life. His wealth and ability to pursue his craft came about partly because of his heritage over which he had no control, but also as a result of the work of enslaved Africans.

Still, in spite of the racism and uncertainty surrounding a great deal of his own life, Cazabon’s paintings demonstrate a great love for the place of his birth. In the midst of the constant noise of what is wrong with our society, perhaps that is the most potent aspect of his legacy and the quality that may be valued the most.

Dara Healy is a performance artist and founder of the NGO, the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN