Art Review Magazine - June 1998

Kurt Jackson - Artist's Eye

The day starts with a walk to school with the kids. Down No-Go-By Lane and up Nancherow Hill into St Just.

This part of my daily routine allows me to catch glimpses of the sea, look at the stream in Kenidjack Valley and the hedgerows and the fields, and get a feeling about the weather and the light. By 9.30 am I am back at home, having made a decision about where and what to paint.

At other times I work on projects, producing a series of paintings on one theme - it may be a specific part of the coast or landscape, or a group of people at work on the land or sea: fishermen, quarrymen, miners, farmers, even travellers.

A bright day - the day to be spent on Priest Cove, St Just’s ‘beach’, a small rocky cove used by the local fishermen and families, a few visitors, and me. Nesting into the side of the Cape Cornwall with Land’s End in sight, this is one of the most westerly parts of the Atlantic coastline.

I wander amongst the rocks looking for that special spot, somewhere that grabs me, but which also provides a perch for me and my gear, as well as a degree of concealment from any potential audience.

Working on paper - sheets of hand made Indian paper clipped to a board - the painting starts with collage on parts of the paper and then watercolour is applied rapidly, sometimes in detail, sometimes very loosely. A lot of splattering and pouring, scratching and rubbing, searching for that combination of delicate, detailed areas contrasting with and balanced by distressed, looser mark-making. The surface is cut into and gouged by a knife blade or my fingernials to reveal the fresh white of the underlying paper; ink is poured on and more watercolours and acrylics are added. Pencil and pastel scribbles appear. Parts are wiped clean again, and scraped back. Layers are added and removed, all the time keeping an eye on the tide or any potential change in the weather. Oyster-catchers ate calling, the south east winds blow.

I am trying to catch that feeling of the light on the sea, the surface of the water, the wind’s movement, the meeting of the water and rock (the soft and hard, the movement and the stillness), the colours of the granite. Eventually it starts to come together but something else is needed.

My kids arrive on the beach with Caroline, school having ended (the day has sped by), and this provides me with just what I need. Two figures on the foreshore appear in the painting, to give a sence of scale and time.

A few words jotted down in the corner of the painting and it’s finished. With that decision made, I hide the work from my own view - I don’t want to look at it again until maybe a week later in the studio. I will then have forgotten how long I spent on the painting and therefore if it's a failure, or to be destroyed, I won’t get depressed. Also, looking at it with fresh eyes I can see it as a ‘painting’ in its own right, and not just as a ‘picture’ of that day and place. A few marks may be made in the studio, but these are minimal - the bulk of the work has been executed in Priest Cove itself.

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