Newspaper Page Text
The Champion, Thursday, April 7-13, 2016
LIFESTYLE
Page 7B
Barry Sons’ work captures the beauty and degradation of marshes, swamps and the Louisiana gulf delta. Photos by R. Scott Belzer
bayou ghosts with Barry Sons
By R. Scott Belzer
sbelzer@dekalbchamp.com
To limit local artist Barry Sons to one
label would be a mistake.
While it’s true Sons is a painter, a writer,
a poet and environmental activist, a more
appropriate term exists in the abstract: Sons
is a conjuror of ghosts.
The ghosts in Sons’ case are not the
spooky soothsayers found in A Christmas
Carol or the vengeful spirits found in modern
Hollywood cinema. Through strokes of the
paintbrush and words on paper, Sons is
able to summon something we all possess:
memories.
Sons’ body of work, without context,
appears to be nothing more than
expressionist landscapes specific to
marshes, swamps, and the Louisiana gulf
delta that once served as Sons’ home.
“I was raised in the marshes of south
Louisiana as a fur trapper,” Sons said. “I
started painting 45 years ago, mostly for
myself because I could draw well as a kid.”
Sons is the 13th of 14 children raised
in the marshlands near the Atchafalaya
River, which flows into the Gulf of Mexico in
southern Louisiana. The artist’s childhood
home, what he refers to as his “Eden,” also
serves as his main subject matter.
Sons’ paintings are beautiful in the
way distant memories are beautiful.
A brushstroke of red, orange or green
perfectly captures a sunset from childhood.
A mixture of cobalt or baby blue may remind
the viewer of his or her first view of the
ocean. The attention to detail regarding a
tree’s branches or a subject’s pant fabric is
comparable to how one might remember
playing outside or his or her first encounter
with a grandfather.
This specific type of beauty, given
context, is also what makes Sons’ artwork
so haunting.
“I read Bayou Farewell by Mike Tidwell,”
Sons said. “All of a sudden, it kind of made
sense to me why some little creative person
could be born to a family of butch rat killers.”
Sons said after reading Tidwell’s book—a
travelogue and expose highlighting the
degradation of the Louisiana coastline—he
had a “crazy dream” followed by a flash of
inspiration. Sons immediately put pen to
paper and wrote a poem called Poet’s Cry,
which detailed Sons’ feelings about his
homeland.
“Communities in the bayous are washing
out to sea,” Sons wrote. “Canals cut like
open wounds, tell me, can’t you see? How
important Mississippi silt is to you and me?”
Sons soon had the realization that his
paintings must also capture the degradation
of the Louisiana marshes. No matter how
small, Sons said, any attention was better
than no attention.
While Sons’ paintings are beautiful, the
artist said they often capture scenes of
degradation. In some cases, the scenes
captured no longer exist - ghosts that
only inhabit a canvas or Sons’ memory.
Every six months, Sons would revisit the
Atchafalaya and become more and more
heartbroken by its demise. Soon, poems
began accompanying the paintings to inform
the viewer on an emotional level.
In this context, a harsh red stroke or
deep brown chasm among the blue takes
new meaning. The harshness to the eye
becomes a harshness to the soul.
“These were places ancestors would
talk to me - they were magical,” Sons said.
“The last time I went back with my nephew,
we came around a bend and there were
dredges digging it up. For what?”
Sons concluded the lack of
environmentalism in that region of Louisiana
is due to how much property is owned by oil
companies dedicated to financial interests
rather than conservation.
“If you Google how many oil wells, it looks
like a Christmas Tree,” Sons said. “I use
oil-based paints, but there are ways to have
oil and be respectful of the land. There’s no
reason to cut up a bayou. Where I’m from, I
can go places, put my foot on land, and I’m
the first person to ever step foot there. And
we’re just killing it.”
Sons, who has been working out of Little
Tree Arts Studio in Avondale Estates, said
he was returning to Louisiana within the
month to deal with matters both personal
and environmental. This, too, shows in Sons’
work.
“I’m going back because I have to,” Sons
said. “I’m number 13 of 14 kids. My siblings
are older than me and they’re dying. My best
brother died three years ago and I couldn’t
get there fast enough.”
Sons’ brother is one the artist cites
“never turned his back” on Sons’ lifestyle
and career choice and “fought until the
day he died” for Barry’s sake. To honor his
memory, Sons did what he does best - paint
a haunting, vague and beautiful memory
another ghost, easily conjured when
needed.
“You heard my cry for all these years, I
must go home, I must go home,” Sons wrote
in the accompanying poem. “My river, dear
Atchafalaya, I thrive in your power, my basin
love. I must go home, I must go home. God
gave in to the tears of my angel, oh Horace,
you still cry for me, he must go home, he
must go home.”
For more information about Barry Sons,
including information on purchasing artwork,
visit www.barrysonsart.com.