From out of the blue the invitation came. I could not recall the place in the hills of Yallahs, St Thomas, to which my presence was requested, so I did some quick online research.
It turned out to be the former home and studio of late master painter Barrington Watson, father of renowned sculptors Basil and Raymond, and is now marketed as the Orange Park Museum and the Barrington Watson Legacy Tours.
I did not hesitate to put the date of the official launch on my bucket list, for I was going to visit a place where the historical footprints and fingerprints of my ancestors are still visible.
On the day of the event there was another ‘must-go-to’, but the great house was a much stronger pull. Ancestral calls, perhaps. My crew and I did not take long to reach Yallahs, where we took a left turn on to Newland Road, which is reasonably steep, and somewhat uneven.
In a few minutes we were on to what appeared to be a recently paved section. I commented on it, but wondered whether it would be like that for the rest of the way. To a certain extent it was, until suddenly the narrow parochial road became bumpy and steeper. At one point the vehicle refused to go any further, blocking the path of the others behind us.
I got out of the vehicle so that the driver could do his thing, reversing to make space. And it worked. Soon, we were back on our way – way, way up where we got glimpses of the land below. The excitement superseded the rocky ride, and what a treat we got when we arrived.
The place is just fantastic. The gardens, the lawns, the structures, Barrington Watson’s monumental tomb, the vistas of the mountains below and in the distance, the layout and decor of the dining tables and chairs, the instrumental jazz music were the prizes we got.
The property was a coffee plantation that went through many changes in size and ownership. Some of the structures are over 400 years old and are being maintained and preserved by Doreen Watson, Barrington’s widow, to grant him his wishes of making the place accessible to Jamaicans of all walks of life.
And I must say I am the first official ‘tourist’ to enter the great house as part of the first official tour. I did not position myself to be. It just happened. The three-level rock structure of thick stone walls was actually the overseer’s house that fell into disrepair, and was refurbished by Watson after he purchased it in the early 1970s. The original great house itself was ruined beyond restoration.
Inside the current great house are Watson’s furniture and other paraphernalia that are now official artefacts, not to be touched and handled. And, of course, there are the pictures done by the master himself. They include portraits of his parents, and it said that ‘Age of Wisdom’, his mother’s portrait, was his favourite piece. There are also pieces that Watson collected over time.
The second level leads to the attic where there are two antique beds, and I was told by none other than his daughter, Janis Altenhofen that that was the “orgy room”. Really?
Orgy apart, it seems like somewhere I would return to write my first novel, which I might just call ‘The Orgy Room’. It is spacious, breezy and quiet, and inspirational. But I was not prepared for what I would say was the high point of the tour.
From the attic’s windows there is a jaw-dropping view of the Yallahs Pond juxtaposed against the azure Caribbean Sea. I had a little peek of them from outside upon my arrival; but what I saw from above was just beyond amazing. Not even Barrington Watson himself could have replicated it.
Other points of interest are the tennis and honeymoon cottages, and Studio Barrington, Watson’s former workshop. In it are the tools of his trade and everything that defines his artistry. You cannot imagine him not being in this space, in which one of his biggest pieces, ‘The Pan Africanists’, is still mounted.
So, without doubt, I was glad I chose Orange Park over Kingston’s railway station, which itself is a historic place that is screaming for some attention, and wondering when, if any at all, it will be receiving passengers in its old and rusting bosom again.