I grew up in a village called Budock Water where my studio now sits and where I hold my Printmaking workshops. A few miles inland from the coast, Budock is (and always has been) a working village. Not a picture postcard perfect Cornish hotspot, it’s inhabitants are real working Cornishmen and women and my guess is there still aren’t many holiday homes here. I love it all the more for that. On a sunny day, when the doors to my studio are wide open to let in the light, I love seeing faces from my youth, bumping into second cousins and passing the time of day with people from my past, who all ask after Mum and Dad. So that’s home. Real Cornwall, where I carve and print and take Finn, our whippet, for walks through the woods I explored as a child.
Travel a short distance from Budock in any direction and the Cornish coast offers up artistic inspiration galore: charming fishing villages, coves, harbours and quiet cobbled corners that haven’t changed much in centuries. It’s true to say that I’ll run out of breath before I run out of ideas.
First up is Falmouth itself. A ‘year round’ town, Falmouth’s streets do not empty in the winter. It’s a buzzing, busy place with a long Maritime history - in fact, the news of Britain’s Victory at the battle of Trafalgar (and Nelson’s death) was landed at the steps of Fishstrand Quay. The harbour is still very much alive today and the waters are bubbling with boats of every shape and size, from fishing schooners to sail boats to huge ferries that you can’t quite believe fit in their dry docks. When people ask where I’m from in Cornwall, I always say Falmouth. I remember coming here every Friday with Mum to do the weekly shop at the dozens of small independents where everyone knew your name. I looked forward to the trip ‘up to town’ and to a Saffron bun as a treat (a ritual probably designed to keep me quiet!).
I was never a great reader but I was very good with my hands and it became clear in my teens I was heading for a career in the Arts. I was lucky enough to win a place at Falmouth Art College to study photography which started a 25 year career in the industry. I loved exploring Falmouth as an adolescent- propping up the harbour bars (and indeed the harbour benches) with my friends from art school, a pint in hand and the sea was our background soundtrack. Today, Falmouth still has a strong independent spirit with plenty of wonderful shops, cafes and restaurants to try out and I have to say, now we’re back in Cornwall, exploring the town for an evening with my wife Becky has been a particular pleasure.
Next? Well, it’s got to be Portscatho. This is the Cornish fishing village of dreams - narrow winding streets and the simple arc of the grey granite harbour walls built to shelter 18th century pilchard fleets from the wind and waves. Stunning. The name itself is simply ‘porth’ or ‘harbour’ and ‘skathow’ meaning ‘boats’ in the old Cornish and there is much about this village on the Roseland Peninsula which is simple in it’s beauty. While there are a few little shops, cafes and a good pub or two there’s not much to do here but stroll, sit and watch the waves. And whether the sea is wild and untamed, crashing against the harbour walls or a iridescent blue millpond (perfect for sea swimmer Becky to take a chilly dip) I just love it.
I’ve been very grateful to set up my stall in the Fisherman’s Shelter in Portscatho on a number of occasions now. It’s the perfect setting for a Cornish printmaker: a simple little square stone whitewashing building where boatmen would have taken refuge in years gone by, perhaps dried their oilskins while eating homemade pasties overlooking the waves that challenged them every day. I love setting up my stall and selling my wares like an old fashioned shopkeeper in the Fisherman’s Shelter, it’s lovely meeting families who return year on year to this special place and I enjoy sitting in the window in quiet moments, planning my next linoprint. Portscatho is very much carved into my heart and I have a number of Portscatho prints of the harbour and views over the sea that I hope others enjoy as a momento of their time here.
Helford Passage is on the estuary, popular with the sailing lovers in the summer months but out of season it’s feels like a forgotten corner of Cornwall, little changed over the centuries. A strip of pebble beach borders the water with a line of old fisherman’s cottages drifting off up the hillside and the wonderful Ferryboat Inn is handy for a pint or a plate of the day’s catch. The water here is calmer than on the coast and the gentle lapping of the delicate waves on the rocks and shingle provides a meditative beat. It’s impossible not to relax here and the first print I carved on my return home was of this exact spot.
Coverack is a little further afield down on the Lizard but my goodness is worth the winding fifty minute countryside drive. A petite harbour is tucked in front of the town, still bobbing with small fishing craft and simple row boats. On a sunny day, the sea here is an almost unbelievable turquoise blue and at low tide, a big expanse of pale sandy beach stretches into the distance. It’s a gorgeous spot and you don’t have to squint hard to imagine what it looked like 150 years ago when fishing was the lifeblood of the Cornish coast. I have a very strong memory of visiting Coverack on a sunny summer’s afternoon with my wife Becky while I was still a full time photographer and moving back home to Cornwall was only a dream. We stayed longer than we thought we might and as the sun started to set, the locals came out of the pub with pints in hand and sat en masse on the harbour walls, soaking up the last of the warmth from the stones. I remember thinking: that is it. That’s the life. That is what I want. I have two lino prints of Coverack harbour now and I have thought of that moment when I carved each of them.
There are so many more places I could talk about - St Mawes, Mousehole, St Anthony’s Lighthouse…..so many prints I’ve carved of locations I love. Maybe that’s what’s also so special about the job I do now, I immortalise places that I hold dear, take a plain piece of lino and carve into it a memory. I hope you feel a bit of that when you look at my prints on your wall.
