My ‘landscape-graffiti’ paintings explore the relationship between human activity and nature.
I revel in working plein-air, composing love songs for nature in colour and light. But in the 21st century there is a paradox and bucolic landscapes to me, feel clichéd or naive. The bliss and purpose I gain from my relationship with nature sits beside the grief of solastalgia whilst witnessing its degradation. I layer urban and wild motifs to bridge and interpret this contradiction, presenting viewpoints of today’s ‘broken-beauty’.
Graffiti is the marker for the urban landscape. From colourful murals to obscenities in toilets, it is both beautiful and ugly. It inspires respect and belonging alongside intimidation and alienation. I’m an outsider to the city. I grew up chasing squalls along Cornwall’s rugged Atlantic coastline, where roaring breakers rage against jagged cliffs. For me, this brutal, free wilderness is akin to the visceral urban aesthetic. It is unapologetic and alive, a homecoming, raw, brave and wild.
For many graffiti is visual pollution, equal to debris strewn along a verge or shoreline. Somehow it embodies the best and worst of humanity. I love this paradox. In my work graffiti’s unapologetic, rhythmic, geometry is a metaphor for our attitudes and behaviour towards the natural world. Scattered in symmetry and opposition to natural forms it conjures an abrasive and uplifting dance between urban anarchy and natural serenity.
Painting outdoors in wild weather is to embrace risk and surrender to nature. Many paintings are lost to the elements but those that survive the challenge are imbued with elemental qualities which are breathtakingly rewarding.
Escaping the city is rejuvenating. My thoughts and feelings soar to greet the vast horizon and soak in the fresh air. It is my act of liberation, a journey into the heart of the elements in which I expose the canvas to all weathers and invite nature to sculpt my creations. Myriad dilutions of acrylic and ink work in harmony with rain, hail or mist. Whereas urban media withstands the weather, drying fast and permanently like rocks in a tide. There is a fragile balance. Sometimes I defy the elements and the paint dries at the perfect moment. Other times, it’s washed bare. Within these demanding, adrenaline-charged situations there is a beautiful space. It’s the eye of the storm, beyond time and self. Caught between success and failure, energy and poise, I surrender and the painting captures a magical, mysterious aspect of the living, breathing landscape.
Ultimately I paint because it fundamentally challenges my being. It's invigorating, sometimes elating, sometimes unbearable, but it always connects me directly to something much larger and much more important than myself.
For education and exhibition history, take a look at Joe’s CV.