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Making Art with Sharks. It is October 2003 and my art-partner Suzi and I are about to climb down into the crystal blue waters of Mexico's remote Isla Guadalupe to make art with white sharks. On the deck of our live-a-board dive boat it is 95 degrees centigrade, searing hot and I am sweating profusely in my wetsuit. Our guide Lawrence Groth and his assistant the marine biologist Scott Davies, help me into my heavily weighted dive harness. As I carefully straddle a strong metal bar at the aft of the boat I take a last look back at the team on deck and reach downwards for support with my right leg. As my foot touches the water I find the cold bracing. Holding on tight, I feel for a solid purchase on the first submerged rung. Smiling and with a glint in his eye, Lawrence hands me my regulator. "When you come out, Olly, come out quickly. Tell us your shark stories when you're back on deck, and remember, don't miss the step, it's a long way down." I looked to the depths below. There was no way I was going to fuck this one up, I think to myself. Taking the rubber mouthpiece firmly between my teeth, I let go of the metal bar and gently sink to the bottom of the cage. The sound of my laboured breathing is all I can hear. The swell is so strong I can hardly keep my balance. Gripping the bars of the cage I look out into the blue and I wait, eyes wide, until Suzi, my brother the photographer Greg Williams, and his assistant George Duffield join me in the cage. As I look around I notice to my right that the water has become cloudy and ruddy, rich with gills, scales, minced bone and tissue that swirl down towards us all from the surface. At first I wonder whether someone has opened the bilge pump and then I remember, somewhat relieved, that it is the shark chum. At that moment we see him emerge from the dappled blood-filled haze, a large male shark gliding effortlessly towards us. He is our first Mexican Great White. Initially we can do nothing but prod each other and point, such is our excitement. We watch electrified by the presence of the most awe-inspiring, beautiful and deadly fish in the ocean. As he circles us, we follow his magnificent lines, looking for distinguishing marks and noting his vast rotund proportions; his battle-scarred snout, the tell-tale damaged gill, no doubt the result of an earlier contest for supremacy. Suzi and I firmly grasp the corners of our long plywood board as the cage rocks violently in the swell and we begin to draw in graphite and Caran D'Ache pencils. We press the soluble colours into the strong 400-gram hand-made paper that we have used time and time again, and that has survived so many trips into the deep over the past 16 years of our collaboration. We begin to draw. From our underwater cell I found myself trying to come to terms with this predator to whom I feel we owe so much. Six years ago, in South Africa, we had a spectacular interaction with our first White Shark when it bit one of our paintings. Here we were again, face to face with a remarkable16 foot Carcaradon Carcarius, two tons of apex-predatory perfection, attempting to document this beautiful creature once more, conveying our feelings in tandem on paper. With only several welded metal bars between us and our predatory subject matter, we felt absurdly safe. Once our fear began to subside it gave way to a deep respect. As our cage moved to and fro in the current, Greg and George braced themselves at the back of the cage and leant through the wide filming ports to capture this spectacle on medium format film and 35mm. We were fortunate enough to have attained a degree of experience with these awesome fish having worked on many occasions with marine biologists, experts in the field of underwater science. We had read the research and watched countless films and like so many predators we have painted over the years, we knew that these creatures were not out to 'get us' as is common belief. We had been told by Lawrence and Scott that these Mexican sharks were adolescents in search of yellow-fin tuna, and had not yet progressed to hunting seals. As the week went by we realised we were in safe hands with the "salty sea dogs" on board the Searcher. Although Lawrence's operation is commercial, (www.greatwhiteadventures.com), he and his research partner Scott believe it is only through education, persistent lobbying, eco-tourism and word of mouth that appropriate pressure can be put on the legislators to act in time to save the sharks. Their destiny is in our hands. Suzi and I interviewed our guides about the challenges inherent in the future of white shark conservation, and their commitment to educate and preserve is both sincere and passionate. Scott is currently studying for his PHD in large-scale movement patterns and genetic kinship. These two professional divers live for the joy they know the sharks impart on others, like us, who have travelled halfway around the world to see them. From their respective bases in San Francisco and San Diego, our hosts are without doubt leading the way in educating their diverse clientele in the real threats to these fish at Isla Guadalupe and beyond. 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 and is potentially dangerous for clients, but also the wide variety of commercial shark products used today. The statistics of shark finning alone are harrowing. More than 100 million sharks are taken just for the production of shark fin soup each year (see www.wildaid.org). Scott told us that over the last few years, white shark populations globally have been depleted by over 70 percent. Whilst they are protected in the USA, South Africa and Australia, he reminded us that Isla Guadeloupe was 280 miles into Mexican waters and that the sharks' migratory routes often intersect those of the big commercial fishing fleets. As part of his research, Scott has joined forces with Mexico's senior shark conservationist Dr Juan Gallo. Together with the Fallon Island Conservancy, they propose to help Isla Guadalupe attain the status of a marine reserve as soon as possible. As artists who work on site with animals in the wild, our week-long trip to make art with the Great Whites of Isla Guadeloupe was a huge success and a real eye opener. To set sail for a week with a bunch of friends, away from the stress of our city lives, mobile phones, e-mail, television and traffic, was a joy. Thanks to Lawrence and Scott and the crew of the Searcher we ate like kings, slept like logs, drank like fish and over the course of our five days at sea we were lucky enough to witness one of the last remaining virgin white shark hunting grounds at first hand, before any disaster scars this pristine aquatic habitat. But it is the memory of the cage itself that has stayed with me and has posed a simple question in my mind. The three-dimensional, custom-welded protective structure enabled us to observe, paint, photograph and film our subjects at close range. Was the cage there to protect us from the sharks? Or, was it there to protect the sharks from us, the world's true apex predator? For more information about Olly & Suzi's work in the wild or taking a trip with Lawrence and his team to see the white sharks of Isla Guadalupe please visit: |
