How a 21st-century poet connected with a 19th century painter
Tallas Munro takes on role of Edward Mitchell Bannister in the production We Were Here
The Saint John Theatre Company's production We Were Here, created and directed by Clyde A. Wray, shines a light on legendary Black community members. Eight local actors are taking on the roles of historical figures from Saint John and beyond. Their names may be lesser-known, but their stories have shaped the city.
Tallas Munro took on the role of artist Edward Mitchell Bannister. Munro is a 24-year-old Black Mi'kmaw poet, actor, and tea enthusiast living in New Brunswick.
Here's what happened when poet met painter.
I had no knowledge of Edward Mitchell Bannister when I started reading and rehearsing my role in Clyde Ray's show We are Here. This was true for all of the characters in the show. After hearing the vignettes over and over in rehearsals, I realized an alluring through-line unifying the series of insights. The characters did not set out to become remembered. They made do with the circumstances given and then exceeded their own expectations by virtue of their resilience.
I did not interpret Clyde's script solely as discourse arguing why these figures should be remembered in history books, but rather as substantive personal reminiscence, with their accomplishments a backdrop to their fondest moments, or their getting through tiresome barriers.
It is simple to limit a performance to caricature. Edward Mitchell Bannister identifies himself as an artist many times throughout the piece, and characterization could be based on preconceived notions of how "artists" carry themselves. This always turns out disingenuous, and the performance comes out with the personality of dishwater.
To avoid this, I engaged with what engaged him. Bannister was a talented Tonalist painter who captured landscapes, seascapes and portraits with magisterial and largely self-taught skill. His work encapsulated the mystique I saw when I wrote poetry inspired by New Brunswick's groves and forestry. I had an angle to work with. I built on this, speaking about his work in performance as if it were my most personal work. I could relate to Bannister and the way he saw our natural world. The beauty of his paintings was easy to find in the world, but his politics and the politics of his time stood out in a different way.
Bannister was a member of Boston's Black abolitionist movement, and his involvement with the movement, informed my interpretation of his art. The open spaces, the motion of elements and the dwindling presence of people in his work screamed emancipation to me. Long grass beset with rain being brushed by the wind toward wide never-ending plains, and cliffs facing enormous open waters spoke of freedoms beyond officially recognized ones on the dotted line. These romantic notions of the Earth touched me as freedom belonging outside the human body.
I look around and see we are in a cultural transition. We are trying to listen, a response to centuries of dismissiveness and denial. The advent of communication technology like social media has made this possible now more than ever.
What I admire about Bannister is that his essence was his work. He effectively approached his desires for himself and his people in his work with sensitivity. He did not attack anyone or an ideal but exemplified qualities of being able to find immediate lasting freedom in the world around us. His work stands as an idealistic gesture of what could be, of how we should be.
I firmly believe that art is never better than the artist that produced it. If Bannister's art is a small bright light representative of how bright he must have burned, then it is something inspiring to strive toward.
For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians — from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community — check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of. You can read more stories here.
