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 Esquire Magazine - March 2004 |
While some British artists prefer them pickled, Olly & Suzi like their sharks alive - and so close that a great white once took a chunk out of their canvas. We join them in a cage off Mexico. Outside my wet suit it is 95°C. Sweating profusely on the deck of a boat moored off Mexico's remote Isla de Guadalupe, I am being helped into my weighted harness. I go to the aft of the boat and climb over the side. The cold is bracing. I feel for a solid purchase on the first submerged rung of the metal ladder that will take me into the water. Guide Lawrence Groth hands me my regulator. "When you come out, be quick" he says. "Tell us your stories when you're back on deck. And remember: don't miss the step - it's a long way down." Gripping the rubber mouthpiece between my teeth, I let go of the metal bar and sink gently to the bottom of the cage. The others join me: my collaborator Suzi, my photographer brother Greg Williams and his assistant George Duffield. To our right, the water becomes cloudy and ruddy, rich with gills, scales, minced bone and tissue swirling down from the surface: the shark chum. He emerges from the bloody haze, a large male gliding effortlessly towards us. He is our first Mexican great white. As he circles us I follow his lines, looking for any distinguishing marks, noting his battle-scarred snout and a damaged gill. As the cage rocks violently in the swell, Suzi and I grasp the corners of our long plywood board, take our graphite and Caran D'Ache pencils and begin to draw. Suzi and I have worked together for 16 years, making art on site with animals in the wild. Our first meeting with a great white was six years ago in South Africa. That time, the shark bit one of our paintings. Now, here we are again, face to face with a remarkable 16ft carcaradon carcarius, two tons of apex-predatory perfection, documenting this beautiful creature once more. While we drew at the back of the cage, braced against the current, Greg and George captured the spectacle on medium-format and 35mm. With only a few welded metal bars between us and our deadly subject, we felt absurdly safe. Having worked with marine biologists, we knew that these creatures are not out to get us, but still the initial sighting is electrifying each time. Fear, however, quickly gives way to a feeling of deep respect. We had been told by Lawrence that these Mexican sharks were adolescents in search of yellow-fin tuna, having not yet progressed to hunting seals. Lawrence's operation, Great White Adventures, is commercial but both he and his assistant, marine biologist Scott Davies, who is studying for a PHD in large-scale movements patterns and genetic kinship in sharks, are keen campaigners for shark conservation. They believe that only through education, eco-tourism, lobbying and word of mouth can appropriate pressure be placed on governments to act in time to save sharks. It is not just the emergence and interference of cowboy shark-viewing operations run by inexperienced and under-qualified guides that could harm this fragile shark population (as well as human clients), but also the wide variety of commercial shark products now being used. The statistics for shark finning alone are harrowing: more than 100 million sharks are killed for the production of shark-fin soup every year. Scott told us that, over the last few years, the global white shark population has been depleted by over 70 per cent. In the US, South Africa and Australia, sharks are protected; Isla de Guadalupe is 280 miles into Mexican water, however, and the sharks' migratory routes often intersect with the paths of the big commercial fishing fleets. As part of his research, Scott has joined forces with Mexico's senior shark conservationist, Dr Juan Gallo, to help Isal de Guadalupe attain the status of marine reserve. This is one of the last remaining virgin white shark hunting grounds and, thanks to Lawrence and Scott and the crew of the Searcher, we were lucky enough to witness it at first hand before disaster befalls it. |