Jallim Eudovic

Three people carrying the body of a dead person; sculpture by Jallim Eudovic. © Magnus Andersson

Last week I visited the Stephen Lawrence Centre in Deptford for an event on Black History Month, but this post isn't really related to that (yet it is). Instead, the receptionist kindly reminded me of an earlier session which I photographed during the summer and then completely forgot to tell you about, along with a million other things.

Mother and child; sculpture by Jallim Eudovic. © Magnus Andersson

As a newspaper photographer I meet and photograph a lot of people during the course of a week and occasionally you make a connection with your subject. I'm not going to go into the art of handling your portrait subject (just google it) because I don't know how it works , but when the connection happens, it is a rare thing, and on this particular occasion my subject was a young artist from St. Lucia called Jallim Eudovic. I arrived early and had time to look at his sculptures on my own. They were nothing short of exceptional.

The banking system; sculpture by Jallim Eudovic. © Magnus Andersson

Cutting long stories short, I was already taken by his work but when Jallim himself arrived, he was certainly a breath of fresh air. He's a modest man, and he took great care explaining every single sculpture to me, the history, the cultural significance, and his recording of fading traditions from his own society, the story behind each object. It dawned on me that he really is a man documenting, observing and writing the obit of his own local history. To be a local newspaper photographer somewhat paled into insignificance, if it wasn't for these moments of connection.


Building windows; a sculpture by Jallim Eudovic. © Magnus Andersson

If I had been rich I would have bought one of his sculptures straight away but as it stands, all I can do is try to share some of his craftsmanship. Wouldn't it be nice to make a visit to Jallim's studio in St. Lucia one day?


Portrait of artist Jallim Eudovic. © Magnus Andersson