The boys who never grew up

Penzance Post presents Silly Boys: a young and potent performance company kicking up the creative dust in West Cornwall.

In the past, Cornwall has spawned some inspirational theatre projects, many of which have gone on to international acclaim. Miracle, Bash Street, Kneehigh are the names that we readily associate with the cutting edge of local theatre. But where is the fresh blood coming through? Young talent, in any field or profession, is continually lost to the county as young folk seek their fortune in the bright lights of Britain’s cultural hotspots – rarely do the gifted stay, or return while still fresh of face and bright of spirit.

However, we’ve spied one spark of hope locally in the form of Silly Boys who are Newlyn boy Callum Mitchell, 26, Seamas Carey, 19, and Alex Heane, also just 19. So you see, when we say ‘young’, we mean it, but the trio’s talent, vision and professionalism belies their tender years. 

All three are the offspring of local artistic families – for example, Seamas’ father is one of the founders of Kneehigh – and, as such, they have been brought up within the crucible of Cornwall’s creative scene. And now, as they reach the age where they are able to make things happen for themselves, they see the real need for more homemade entertainment. They regard the general lack of local activity as an opportunity, rather than disheartening. And their shows are being snapped up, proving that local venues are hungry for new talent.

The setting up of Silly Boys in 2012 was a very natural process, and came to pass after the boys had been out in the world gaining invaluable experience; Callum working with Show and Tell in Edinburgh and Seamas touring Europe with Bash Street. And now, it seems, they are on a frenzied campaign to fill the county’s cultural void; as well as producing their own shows, they are also bringing other quality acts to our regional theatres. The boys have their fingers in many pies and their ideas for new projects are only limited by the speed at which they can realise them.

Instead of defining and honing one creative route, their shows are diverse in concept and style. This is partly due to appetite, but also because of the unique combination of the three young men; each has his own distinct personality, artistic talents and influences. Callum is the writer and the thinker – a dry-witted performance poet who wears his heart on his sleeve; Seamas is the musical prodigy and fountain of boundless creativity; and Alex is the stalwart musician and foil to the extreme character of his two partners.

As we talk to them, the creative chemistry between the three is tangible. While Callum will mull and then expound at length on a topic, the other two sit respectfully, until Seamas erupts with a funny anecdote that gets all three throwing around thoughts, jokes and stories, drifting off-point in a natural, outward spiralling of imagination. You can easily see how their creative process is fed by this joyful interactivity, and how their artistic journey won’t ever stick to the map.

This purposeful aversion to uniformity means they are reluctant to pigeonhole their collective style, and they cite influences as contrasting as Buster Keaton and Woody Allen, and from Balkan gypsy jazz to rap. But if we are to be stubborn and seek a connecting theme, it is the unplanned, unhinged style of comedy accompanied by songs and music that characterises their work. From this we can draw lazy comparisons with the likes of The Flight of the Conchords and The Mighty Boosh, but unlike these established acts, the Silly Boys aren’t interested in defining set characters or boundaries for themselves, at least not yet.

Their philosophy is to create an edge through spontaneity; by never over-rehearsing they force improvisation, which is often the source of their best humour. And, partly through necessity, partly through choice, they tend to opt for the low budget option, where the charity shop becomes their props cupboard and friends and family become their crew. But what the finished product lacks in polish, the boys make up for in fresh ideas and energy, which they bring to each show by the bag load.

Lets’s look at their output to date. Firstly, we see Callum and Seamas take on their stand-up persona as Underdog, where spoken word and songs mingle in charmingly quirky and improvised comic ramblings, most recently seen at the The Lost and Found Cafe in Chapel Street. Then we see Seamas and Alex in The Silent Film Club, providing live music for classic silent movies in sell-out performances at The Poly in Falmouth. And this month all three take their children's puppet show, The Tallest Horse on Earth, on the road. 

Puppetry is a skill none of the boys claimed to possess, but that’s just indicative of their fearlessness. Performing for children is also something they’ve never done before, but it appeared to be a type of theatre that was under-supplied. However, the boys are keen to explain that the show will also appeal to grown-ups with a penchant for the quirky. 

The Tallest Horse on Earth starts its tour of small theatres and village halls on 15th April at Exeter’s Bike Shed, comes to The Centre, Newlyn on 20th April and hits St. Just WI Hall on 17th May. Book your tickets on the CRBO Box Office.

Their connections in the industry have also led them to act as the production company for the local shows of other artists. Recently, a capacity crowd at The Acorn Theatre welcomed Molly Naylor in her enchanting monologue performance of My Robot Heart. And on April 27th, Penzance will be treated to the comic musings of Rob Auton when he brings his Edinburgh Fringe 2012 hit The Yellow Show to The Ritz, supported by Underdog. Buy tickets (only £5) from The Lost and Found Cafe.

As you can see, it’s hard work being a Silly Boy; while their theatre can be outlandish and unpredictable, it’s matched by the seriousness of their ambition and dedication. And all their effort means that we get to enjoy high quality homegrown theatre productions on our doorstep. So if anyone bemoans the dearth of local live entertainment, just point them to anything that has the name Silly Boys attached to it.

http://www.sillyboys.co.uk

Words © Dee and Gerard Ivall. Images & film © Nik Strangelove

Filmed on location

When we think of art in Cornwall we think of painting and, maybe, sculpture, but we wouldn't necessarily think of film. But if we did think of film, we'd picture period dramas shot against dramatic coastlines, windswept moors and cobbled village lanes. But I wonder if anyone would consider the unpolished streets of Penzance and Newlyn an obvious film set? For Newlyn-based filmmaker and writer Mark Jenkin, local terrain offers a rich palette for his pithy work. His latest film, Happy Christmas, is a tender, human story that walks a delicate balance between bleakness and warmth, and for this, a remote seaside town in winter is the ideal environment. We met Mark at the Lost & Found Café on Chapel Street to find out more about the film and its maker. 

We are not film critics, so we won't attempt a review as such, but we will say that it made a lasting impression on us. We don't know if this because the local context gave it pertinence, but we do believe its message hit a chord. We were also struck by the natural performances, and we found out that this is because all dialogue was improvised. This is a tested, yet bold, directorial approach, where brief notes on character and scene context are all the cast have to go on; the rest is up to them. In this case, it worked. 

We asked Mark about the inspiration for the film and we were fascinated to hear that music was the starting point. In the main, the soundtrack comprises a set of songs by local artist and musician Daryl Waller. A demo sent to Mark was the first time the songs had ever been heard by ears other than his own, and such were their touching beauty, that Mark was driven to put pictures to the sounds. The film's excellent soundtrack is now available on Daryl's label Flawedcore Records, also featuring works by Morris Murdoch and Nick Harpley.

The film's tag line is An interwoven seaside hymn to gift-wrapped promises and unwanted presence, and makes for a neat précis of this atmospheric Christmas ramble. The film's unhurried pace makes it more akin to French cinema. No surprise then that it went down well at its premiere at the Dinard Film Festival in Brittany. However, it won't be everyone's cup of tea. Last year's hometown premiere at the Savoy sparked a severely polar response. But this, Mark assures me, is a trusted sign of effective creative output. 

Mark is also proud to tell us that Happy Christmas is a zero budget film, made using friends and family as actors, and with minimum crew and equipment. The decision to take this lo-fi approach was a purposeful one; the freedom of autonomous directorial control gave him the creative fulfillment he was looking for at the time. Bigger budget films, or those where funding is drawn from other sources, make for a complicated and cumbersome filmmaking process. Happy Christmas had no such shackles. In fact, the shooting schedule, and even some of the scenes, were as spontaneous as the script. It was an organic process, with no time restrictions or marketing plan to pander to. Lack of cash imposed its own restrictions, but its just this that Mark thrives on; in his mind, such limitations inspire invention.

This philosophy is one that Mark is keen to instil in the students he lectures in Film at University College Falmouth. Teaching is not only a source of income for Mark, but at 36, it is also a way for him to hang onto the youthful spark of inspiration. 

His own introduction to the medium was haphazard. While studying biology A-level at St. Austell college or, rather, not studying biology A-level at St. Austell college, he would hang around in the photography lab while his friend processed film and made prints. Eventually, the tutor suggested he might as well take the course as he already spent so much time there. And thus, the door opened onto the world of image making and story telling that Mark fell in love with. His first films were made using an old Super-8 camera, and, since then, a passion for traditional film techniques has stayed with him. Now he's a hoarder of vintage film equipment, and plans to take a space at Newlyn School of Art to create an analogue film processing studio. With this in mind, it's probably quite interesting to learn that Mark turned up to our meeting on a 40-year-old Vespa. Unfortunately it broke down on the way, making him late, but anyone with a love of outmoded technology will recognise that such unpredictability is exactly the imperfection that he's drawn to.

It's in this spirit, then, that Mark has decided to consolidate his ideas on filmmaking; he has drawn up a film manifesto entitled SLDG13, and subtitled Innovation through Imperfection, in which thirteen strict points lay down the law on how films should not be made – inspiring the filmmaker to limit themselves to the most basic techniques, to force creativity. So you see, we're dealing with a someone with true conviction – the next Robert Bresson? You never know.

So why isn't Mark living in London, or moving to LA for that matter? Half an hour spent on his website, watching the affectionate portrayal of our people and places, will reveal his devotion to this area. Part of Mark's mission is to raise the profile of the film industry in the South West, and together with five other filmmakers, including Denzil Monk and Brett Harvey, Mark has founded film production and distribution company Western Light Pictures. As well as Happy Christmas, their roster includes Mark's earlier film, The Midnight Drives and Brett's award-winning black comedy thriller, Weekend Retreat, both set in Cornwall. One of their future projects will be Mark's film about the plight of local fishermen – an important and underexposed story in Mark's mind. So important, in fact, that he's spent 11 years writing the screenplay. 

So now, of course, you want to see Happy Christmas. There will be a free screening at the Lost and Found Café in Trevelyan House on Chapel Street on Thursday 20th December at 7pm. But if you can't get to that, you can watch the entire film online, again for free. Doing either will open your eyes to the signs of a Cornish film scene that's shining brightly, right here in our midst.

Watch the film: http://vimeo.com/53697799

http://www.markjenkin.co.uk

http://flawedcore.bandcamp.com/album/happy-christmas-soundtrack

Words © Dee and Gerard Ivall. Images © Nik Strangelove

A hand-carved masterpiece in our landscape

It's not everyday that a genuinely awe-inspiring public treasure just crops up in your local area. Well, it's just happened 'round here with the birth of Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens, and it's hard to overstate the brilliance and benefit it brings.

Its location meant it slipped under our radar, but since the opening of Tremenheere's own café, The Lime Tree, the ensuing local buzz drew us in. The gardens and cafe are both post-worthy in their own right, yet being intrinsically linked, it was impossible to separate them. We spoke to café manger Miki Ashton who, it turns out, is just as involved in the gardens. She was able to give us an equally thorough insight into both compelling ventures.

Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens

Back a while, when the land at Tremenheere was still being put to agricultural use, it had already been earmarked by some high-profile gardening types as having the potential to be one of the best gardens in the country. It's because the spot possesses a unique combination in it's geography, microclimate and soil properties. But this has been known for centuries; the monks living on St. Michael's Mount had a vineyard here in the 13th Century (who says British wine is a new phenomenon?). The man who saw it's true potential most recently was Neil Armstrong, a local doctor, who's passion of gardening lead him to purchase the land when it came up for sale in 1999. So, unlike most other local public gardens, Tremenheere is privately owned. There's no national charitable organisation at work here, no, far from it; we were astounded to learn that most of the work has been carried out by Dr Armstrong himself, with the occasional help of one gardener, more recently. This kind of gargantuan solo effort puts us in mind of Rowena Cade's Minnack Theatre, in fact the similarities between these two sites don't stop there. Both embrace natural coastal views and both celebrate art. Tremenheere's unspoilt vistas of the Mount are just one of its joys. The bounty of exotic flora, including tree ferns, cacti, bamboos and giant, prehistoric-looking succulents, make you feel as if you're walking through an Eden biodome. We admit to knowing very little about gardening, but apparently there are species of plants growing here that simply do not grow outdoors in any other part of the country. Its sub-tropical bias also means that the gardens will remain green, and open, for most of the year; both the gardens and café will only be closed for the month of January. Fair enough.

But what about the sculpture? This aspect of things began a few years ago, when American experiential artist James Turrell was looking for a permanent home for his work, Skyspace. That home was found in Tremenheere, with Neil offering his garden as a blank canvas for the artist, who now has two works on site. Since then, David Nash, Kishio Suga and Billy Wynter have all made the gardens their perpetual gallery for large-scale sculptures and installations. The pieces are all linked, in that they worship the natural world. It's a fitting theme.

The move to open up to public visits was not part of the original vision; it was not begun as a moneymaking enterprise. But when upkeep became too costly, the gates were opened, and West Cornwall gained a magical asset. As you burrow through woody undergrowth, emerge into open desert-like terrain, wander across green hillsides, gaze at world-beating views, navigate shrub-fringed paths, in and out of mind-altering artistic experiences, all in the space of a few acres, you can hardly believe you're ten minutes from Penzance. Despite our wealth of naturally occurring rural treasures, this man-manipulated version replies to our need for stimulation through creativity, and does it on a breathtaking scale.

But that's not the end of the story, there's more garden to come, as Neil has recently purchased a further three acres of land at the very top of the site. And there's even a rumour of another artist collaboration. As in all gardens, change will be a constant joy.

The Lime Tree café

Once Neil allowed all comers to roam and ramble around his garden, it seemed a reasonable idea to feed and water them. Plans for an ambitious café were drawn up by Penzance architects Barrie Briscoe (to who the building is now dedicated) and Neil Wall of Arcos Studios, and some of the funding for the scheme came from a Rural Development Programme grant. Seeking advise on the design of the kitchen, Neil called upon old friends and experienced restauranteurs and caterers Miki and Justin Ashton. This pair were already past masters of the Penzance dining scene, having run their restaurant, The Lime Tree, first at the Penzance Arts Club and then at Trevelyan House on Chapel Street. They had built a loyal client base, fanatical about their outstanding food focused around the produce of a few key local suppliers. Happy to oblige Neil's request, Justin went about creating his dream kitchen at Tremenheere, not knowing that Neil would soon be asking them to run it. When he did, its out-of-the-way location instinctively made them nervous, but Neil's own Herculean work on the gardens and the prospect of a purpose-built space, inspired them.

Using their original training as a product designer and furniture designer respectively, Miki and Justin created the interiors of the cafe, which saw Justin producing a bespoke design for the café tables, which are made from pleasing slabs of polished sycamore. The light and gallery-like space begged to house artworks, and continue the theme of the gardens indoors, and we can't not mention the two enormous Trevor Bell paintings that hit you when you walk in. These, like the beautiful oversized pots by Tony Lattimer, are on loan by the artists, who clearly saw the place as a fitting setting for their work.

But let's not forget the kitchen, the heart of everything, and where the story started. Initially limiting his service to weekday lunchtimes, a Saturday brunch and Sunday lunch, Justin is putting out a small but action-packed menu, where Char Sui pork with fish chilli broth sits merrily alongside roast beef with bubble and squeak. Dishes are teamed up with a carefully considered list of wines, beers and fruity drinks, and for mid-morning visitors, coffee, tea and cake comes in many delicious flavours and formats.

It quickly became apparent that the project was so much more than the 'straightforward' running of a café. Rather, it was to play a fundamental role in the running of the entire public operation. But they can see the potential; they know that there are two factors that are key to the site's appeal as a commercial proposition. Firstly, it's Tremenheere's dual focus; this is what makes it a 'destination', ensuring people get in their cars and come. We ought to mention the free parking at this point, in fact, it's so unheard of it's almost worthy of capital letters. The second factor is the seemingly limitless space available, making it an ideal base for all kinds of events and creative happenings. Weddings are an obvious market to tap, and the gardens now have the necessary license for marriage ceremonies – it doesn't take much imagination to see what a stunning venue they'd make. An outdoor Farmers Market is held on the second Sunday of the month – an idea that's expected to grow over time. Music events are in the offing too. We notice that the café even has a state of the art projector fitted, and we're told that plans for regular film nights are afoot as well. As Miki muses about her dream of live acoustic gigs in James Turrell's Skyspace, we get hooked by her sense that anything is possible here.

Such boundless potential flies in the face of today's prevalent reined-in mentality. The Minnack, Eden and, now, Tremenheere, they all stand as our county's own proof that bloody-minded vision can make wonders still.

http://www.tremenheere.co.uk

Words © Dee and Gerard Ivall. Images © Nik Strangelove

New kids on the block

We kept hearing about a new gallery project with the strange name of LETH, and when we probed we were pleased to discover that it's the enterprise of Penzance Post personality, Sam Bassett.

The project currently known as 'Leth' (Cornish for 'milk') is housed in two previously unused Newlyn premises: the rooms above the charity shop on Jack Lane, and the gallery space on Badcock's Block. The former acts as the office and is referred to as 'Leth Office', and latter is used as the main public gallery and is, as yet, untitled. 

Penzance and Newlyn are hardly short of art galleries, but this is special because it's independent, and because it's run by a working artist rather than a businessperson or committee. As Sam reveals his motives and plans, he convinces us that his mission to showcase new and unrepresented local contemporary artists is pure, but that it's also about having fun. It's this tangible irreverence that makes it feel like an underground project, but at the same time, because of the high-profile gallery space, it comes across as entirely professional in its outlook.

The gallery was launched to coincide with the Newlyn Fish Festival and the buzz surrounding it was audible. On the day, Leth Office was also opened up to let us watch Alex Higglet and Georgina Hounsome making festival-related screenprints and Mat McIvor muralising.

Newlyn needs this. The main Newlyn Gallery is an excellent focal point, but it's shows are few and long, and it's artists are normally well-established and rarely local. Sam's project feels fresh and relevant; the current summer show is a deliciously discordant but joyous chorus of artistic voices and, in the main, the artists are based in Newlyn and Penzance or are working in this county. One of Sam's goals is to exhibit the best work from the colleges, as a way of crystalising the ambition of local students to follow the call of fine art as a realistic career.

We were also interested to learn that Sam is collaborating with another one of our featured persons, Henry Garfit, the founder of the Newlyn School of Art. Sam's vision and boundless drive is unquestioned, but Henry has already set up two successful art institutions and his experience will undoubtedly bring much credibility to this new venture.

It transpires that the Stevenson empire is involved too, being the landlords of the premises. In fact, one room of the gallery will be home to their exhibition of Newlyn's fishing heritage, which Sam will help curate by making it more of a interactive affair, with artists using the archive materials as inspiration for new works.

Overall then, rather than an exciting flash in the pan, this project looks set to become part of the fabric of the community – intrinsically tied to Newlyn's past and future.

http://www.lethoffice.com


Words © Dee and Gerard Ivall. Images © Nik Strangelove

Artists in residence

The seaside guesthouse has been much maligned over the years, but the counterattack on our sullied preconceptions is being spearheaded by a few visionary owners. While, overall, we believe the accommodation in Penzance to be of an excellent standard, one new establishment is making waves by staging an extravagant debut.

The Artist Residence opened on Chapel Street last spring, and while its arrival was barely noticed by the local community, the excitement it stirred among trippers, scouring the internet for a bed in our town, has been fanatical. The reason? It's different. And that's refreshing when many British B&Bs stick to a familiar homely style, and chain hotels opt for making their own lives easier by rolling out innocuous, wipe-down interiors. The phenomenon of the boutique hotel has done much to provide guests with another, more inspiring, option. But even in this territory, what once appeared to be individual, now looks generic.

Artists Residence, we believe, is genuinely breaking new ground, and in more than one way. The most obvious departure from the usual is the wildly characterful rooms; the interior decoration of each guest room has been designed and executed by a different artist with a local connection. It's an original idea and one that sits well with our area's artistic leanings. The styles vary from room to room, creating unique, personal worlds which guests love, and enjoy picking the one that suits them. From Jo Peel's vibrant murals to Dolly Divine's delicate collage style, there's something for everyone. The 'A.R. Blank' room even allows residents to make their own mark on blackboard-painted surfaces.
 

While the overall effect is a brilliant riot of creativity, much practical thought has gone into the balance of styles and the exact execution. In fact, behind the sense of playfulness is a serious commitment to customer service. To owners Justin Salisbury and Charlie Newey, guest happiness is paramount, and getting to know the people who visit them is an important way of understanding their needs – and this invaluable information is the basis on which the hotel is developed. Increased flexibility in accommodation is a direct result of customer feedback; many rooms now have extra beds or sofa beds to house additional guests if required, and some feature kitchenettes.

There's a good deal of uninhibited energy at work here too; the Penzance enterprise is the younger sister of the original A.R. in Brighton, and in the pipeline there are plans for a further location in London's Pimlico. But beyond the accommodation side of things, at the core of the Artist Residence concept is art. While the rooms themselves are already an exhibition of artist's work, there is also full-on Gallery downstairs, designed to showcase a wider group of artists to a wider public audience. Last Saturday saw the opening of Mat McIvor's solo show, and his dynamic work, and the buzz that it generated, demonstrated how the A.R has more to offer tourists and locals like. The extensive Georgian building has space, and much of it is unused by guests, so the vision is to create a busy social destination and arts venue, something that Penzance is crying out for. The shop is one aspect of this, selling local and artisan pieces. Food is another important piece of the bigger picture; presently, chef Nic Lennon creates 5-star breakfasts and premium cakes for morning and afternoon tea, but in a few weeks he will be opening a full-time café that will spill out into the secluded rear courtyard when the sun shines. 

Strangely, it feels like the sun always shines inside the Artist Residence; the boundless ambition, youthful enthusiasm and creative spirit is infectious, and you can't help but smile while you're there.

http://www.arthotelcornwall.co.uk

Words © Dee and Gerard Ivall. Images © Nik Strangelove

Newlyn School rules again

Newlyn School of Art is a name that evokes the halcyon days of figurative painting in the area, and the famous names we associate with that period are known and respected the world over. But don't be confused, the school we're talking about only opened last year. In fact, this is the first and only place of art training to have used this name, and for many reasons it might not be what you perceive it to be.

Perched on the higher reaches of Chywoone Hill, coincidentally just a short walk from the site of Stanhope Forbes' studio, Newlyn School of Art is housed in a former primary school, leased from the Stevenson family. The old building retains much of its character and period features including the enormous windows that allow plenty of that famous Newlyn light to pour in. The teaching space comprises a large drawing and painting room, and a print room, separated by the original partition doors, while eight other rooms are leased as permanent artists' studios. The courses are many and varied and embrace the principal disciplines of fine art: painting, drawing, printmaking and stone carving, with the latest project being a series of two-hour Life Drawing Evening Sessions on Wednesdays, taught by a roster of well known local working artists.

That there is such an art school in Newlyn would seem natural; part of our heritage and something we could easily take for granted. But its recent presence is only due to the bloody minded determination of one person, the School's founder and sole proprietor, Henry Garfit – a man with a vision.




A painter and printmaker himself, Henry relocated to Cornwall nine years ago to pursue a full-time career as an artist. It was an irrational and instinctive move, and to complicate his dream he was initially unable to find a studio space to rent. After a lengthy search, he came to the simple conclusion that there was a chronic lack of artists' studios in West Cornwall. Official statistics at the time stated that over 10,000 creative people were working in the county, but where? But rather than submit to the shortfall, the problem stoked his entrepreneurial spirit and, putting his brushes aside, Henry set himself the mission of righting this wrong. After much effort, including an abortive attempt to takeover some barns near Land's End, Henry was close to exhaustion when he happened to bump into a member of the Bolitho family (owners of Trewidden House) on a sleeper train to London. This chance meeting, and the subsequent negotiations, gave birth to Trewidden Studios; a collection of 15 self-contained studios on the outskirts of Newlyn, opened in 2008.
 

Motivated by the idea of upgrading the circumstances of local artists, and given new momentum by the success of Trewidden, Henry's ambitions grew into the formidable idea of founding a school. He knew that many local artists already relied on teaching work to supplement their income, but the commitment they must make can be detrimental to their artistic work. Henry's plan was to create a school where each artist's input was moderated to a manageable level; offering only short courses (a maximum of four days), allowing them to balance the teaching alongside their own artistic careers, but also ensuring that their input into the lessons is spontaneous and fresh. With an Arts Council grant secured, premises located and a ready-made name to use, he set about making his school a reality.

The novel concept was greeted enthusiastically by artists (none have declined the opportunity at the school thus far), and for many the teaching process has proved a healthy experience; an opportunity to verbalise their processes, share ideas and step out of the introspective world of their own art. Students too feel the benefit, with the chance to work with well-known artists, and by receiving passionate teaching from an experienced working practitioner.

The School's name is embedded in history, and there is a satisfying sense of continuity from past to present, but its links with those venerable ways have been loosened; the teaching style errs on the side of progressive. While key traditional skills are taught here, classes can be informal, free-form and often unconventional, depending on the tutor. While we were there, Sam Bassett's Experimental Drawing class was in full swing, with students painting with balls and sticks, and drawing with their eyes closed. The structure of courses is less rigid too, with students able to attend just one class, rather than having to sign up for a term's worth of lessons. It is this flexible and relaxed approach that gives the school its character and its niche, allowing it to sit comfortably alongside existing courses in the area. 

But who comes to learn? Student ages range from 16 to 86, and the level of experience present in any one class can span from professional artist or MA student, to the dabbler or the recipient of an Art School gift voucher who has yet to wield a brush. In short, anyone is welcome and all can benefit from the inspiration offered. And budding artists come from far and wide, enticed by Newlyn's art heritage, but Henry is heartened to see that the school is also being supported by locals; during the winter, 90% of the students were Cornish folk. Equally encouraging has been the support from local art bodies, which has been uninhibited; productive links have been forged with Penlee House Gallery and Museum, Newlyn Art Gallery and The Exchange, as well as Tate St Ives.

With all this positively buoying it along and a fifteen year lease in the bag, the potential of the School is limited only by Henry's energy. Even the building itself offers further scope; there are plans afoot to renovate further rooms to create a lecture space and a darkroom. 

Living where we do, art is an integral part of the community. Now here's the chance for us all to learn, improve, test our under-exercised creative muscles, or just have fun being an art student for a day or two.

http://www.newlynartschool.co.uk

Words © Dee and Gerard Ivall. Images © Nik Strangelove

New-school Newlyn

At the tender age of 29, Cornish boy Sam Bassett recently hung his first main solo show, Torn Anima, which is on until 24th April at the Millennium Gallery in St.Ives. Not wanting to attempt to describe the work – we'd prefer that you take it at face value when you go – we'll just say that it's unexpected. Not what you'd normally get from a Cornish artist certainly; no boats, no cliffs, no sunsets and no seagulls. Amidst the chiming voices of the local art vernacular, Sam's work speaks a separate, distinctly singular, language. So, above all, we were interested to know how Sam viewed his place in the local art scene and its celebrated heritage.

We visited Sam in his Newlyn home, where he has lived for just two years with his wife Sonya. The house, it turns out, belonged to a relative, many years ago. So for Sam, while having been born in St. Ives, buying this special place was a reclamation of his Newlyn roots. His grandfather was also a Newlyn man, and an early inspiration for the young artist. Sam recalls the occasions when his grandpa would buy him new art books, and hide them in the tumble dryer for the young boy to discover. Growing up in St. Ives, Sam was naturally exposed to the successful local painters of the time; visiting art shows of key figures like Terry Frost, Ben Nicholson, Bob Crossley, Roger Hilton and Breon O'Casey. While his current style appears to inhabit another place entirely, he readily admits that those people influenced the way he applies paint, uses materials and approaches his work. The craft of painting and construction of a piece is definitely Sam's thing. But this wasn't his initial calling: after taking an art foundation course at Falmouth, Sam studied Illustration at Bournemouth with a view to becoming a commercial illustrator in London. But he remembers that while other students would be finalising their work on the computer, he would still be hammering things together. It was his love of process that eventually led him to leave his stable career path and flee to the somewhat more unpredictable life of a fully-fledged artist. His early work did inspire him in one way: the layering technique that grew out of computer-based illustration would noticeably carry though into his painted art. Another reason why Sam pulled away from his original profession, was that he found clients and the projects restricting. As Sam neatly puts it: 'Commercial work has to be cautious – I don't like caution'. This is true; his last show, at the Cornwall Contemporary gallery, was a collaborative one, where artists were free to dismember each others work. Sam isn't afraid to play with taboos either, and his art could be seen as challenging to some. He has also dabbled in some pretty weird performance art, and he describes a film he made in which he is sailing a wardrobe, singing sea shanties and painting. 'It was great', he says, 'but then you think, who the **** wants to watch this?'

So why did the change of heart in his trade lead Sam home to Cornwall? Surely his illustrative style owed more to urban art than a rural environment. Sam says he doesn't really know where he fits. Fair enough, these days artists can collaborate and form groups over the internet, so the sense of place isn't quite as important as it was. Stanhope Forbes and the Newlyn artists flocked together because of light and to document a scenario and an industry. But Sam and his artist friends have more of an individualistic approach to art, process and themes, and as Sam explains quaintly: 'it's less of an outlook and more of an inlook'. In this respect, he says he could work anywhere, but is quick to point out that the local landscape always creeps in, embedded into the background. So Cornwall does inspire him. In fact, the colours he picks come from the scenery – but it's just not obvious to an onlooker. Local people too have a massive impact on his work; being all about memory and observation, Sam' artistic themes draw direct inspiration from the characters and personal relationships from his life here.

When Sam first came back, he had a show at Debbie Hall’s Orchard Gallery in St. Ives. He was surprised that they wanted to do something different. And locals appreciating and buying his work gave him confidence to think that people down here were up for new things, and he wasn't walking into a 'commercially-viable only' market. Sam loves that local galleries are pushing it. His view on the cultural scene is heartening: 'All I know is that in culture, music, art, whatever, you need diversity to be able to survive, otherwise things become boring. I'm happy to be in a town that can appeal to a good diversity of people'. Sam is clearly excited about the local art scene today: 'at the moment there's a great energy, with new studios and quite a few people creating – there's ongoing creativity here'. The show at Millennium was a specific ambition of Sam's. And with that under his belt, his next goal is to secure funding. This will enable him to push further with risky subjects and large experiments, and ultimately create a substantial body of work for a local public gallery. But he's also been contacted by galleries overseas, so Sam Basset may soon have a significantly wider audience. We asked him how he would label himself to a this international market, a Cornish artist? a Newlyn artist? He reiterated that art today is less about 'place', but he acknowledges his heritage, and his website proudly announces that he's a 'Cornish contemporary artist'. So other than some historical family ties, why did Sam choose Newlyn as his present home over St. Ives? 'It just feels a bit more real', he says. You can't argue with that.

Sam's age is part of his appeal as an artist, so it's interesting to hear that the Millennium's next subject will be Trevor Bell, who is 82 this year. Sam, who has just turned 30, is at the other end of the scale in terms of experience. It is another way in which he sits apart from the norm. He says he feels privileged to be recognised so early on in his career, but when we asked him if his youth is an integral part of his art, his answer was simple: 'I think I'll always have a young head'. He hopes age will bring a different pace – enabling him to slow down and make some iconic pieces, but he wants to stay spontaneous and prolific. But Sam is already changing. He hints that future work might be inspired by nature; as a child he was fascinated by wildlife and would draw birds for hours. So his sense of place may be stronger than he imagined after all.

http://www.samuelbassett.co.uk

http://www.millenniumgallery.co.uk

Words © Dee and and Gerard Ivall. Images © Nik Strangelove