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James Tait was born in Baltasound, Shetland in 1948. He attended art college, but found the process unsuited to his needs - so he left. Jim then attended university to study law, left before completing his studies and a assorted subsequent occupation ensued. Jim now lives in Lerwick, doing what he is so obviously meant to do - marine art. Jim Tait's astrological sign is cancer, the least predictable of all the signs. Cancerians are ruled by the moon and have water as their element, which is determined in Jim's life and work. He even positions his chair to allow an unrestricted view of the sea from his Shetland home. The three main loves he mentions are: oil painting, sea and ships. The Shetland Islands are framed by the North Atlantic on the west and the North Sea on the right. The coast and views differ wildly and Jim faces the North Sea.
Jim dislikes being asked for his inspiration as he finds the term too lofty. If he has anything similar to inspiration he says, it must be the changing seas and skies of Shetland. Jim's favourite artist is the Belgian Surrealist, Paul Delvaux 1897--1994. There were no similarities, as far as could be seen during our meeting. I later read that Marc Rombaut has written of Delvaux '...he all the time maintained an intimate and privileged connection to his childhood, which is the fundamental motivation for his work and all the time manages to covering there. This childhood, existing within him, led him to the poetic size in art'; this quote indubitably strikes a chord. Delvaux was famed for his female nude compositions, skeletons, and architecture. The absurdity of Delvaux' work seems to be the antithesis of Tait's work. The yin to Tait's yang gritty masculine realism reflected in his work. Jim also admired the work of Cezanne, van der Weyden and Fuseli and assuredly admires many local artists and, if they are not inspiration, they were indubitably encouragement.
Jim's interest in the fishing fleets of Shetland, Scotland and the rest of Europe has grown into a fascination. He learned all he could about the boats - their tonnage, length, names, numbers, where they were built and when, as well as details of their engines and ownership. His interest coincided with expansive developments in the types of vessels being used, and Lerwick became the hub of a large fishery appealing much of the northwest European fishing fleets. Jim's father bought him a paint-by-numbers set when he was colse to twelve. This was how he first learned to paint with oils, and he sold his first seascape painting, of the Shetland Zulu drifter Research at the age of thirteen. The painting still hangs in an office in Lerwick!
Had Jim had been fully fit, he would have made his living directly from the sea, rather than scraping an existence attempting to perfectly capture its essence in oils. As things were, a muscular condition precluded this - fishermen have to be very quick and strong to react to all the elements throw in the general policy of fishing operations. Nevertheless, Jim took trips off to the seine-net and purse-net with local boats whenever he could. Jim was never seasick, no matter how bad the weather. This was a matter of some curiosity to the crews of these vessels, who were used to looking landlubbers throwing up enthusiastically on such trips.
A passion for all things nautical, in singular the fishing industry, the vessels which pursue the shoals, has combined with his talent to yield Jim Tait, marine artist. Undoubtedly, Jim's passion for marine scenes emanated from somewhere almost prehistoric within him. It was there before he had any aware memory.
Jim has all the time used oils: he loves the pliable nature of the medium. Watercolours and acrylics dry too fast for his liking. Agreeing to Jim, a Tait watercolour would be a very flat uninteresting object. In the late 1960s, acrylics were quite new and revolutionary and, he suggests, are a bit more workable: he used to enjoy the medium at high school but still found the goods stiff and too quick to dry. Also, whilst at school, Jim produced what he determined a magnum opus - a painting of a Shetland ram standing on top of a hill, Monarch of the Glen style! Modestly as ever, Jim considers the picture attracted nothing but mirth and derision from his peers and teachers!
The end of Jim's secondary school study came in 1967 and the only cheap thing to do seemed to be to go to art school. Jim had mastered drawing: landscapes, plants, animals, and population flowed from his energetic pencil. He was convinced he would come to be an additional one Turner, Constable, or van der Weyden within a remarkably short space of time. However, art school was not what Jim expected and his enthusiasm for art as an academic subject waned. By Christmas 1969, he had lost all interest in anything the college had to offer and failed his second year studies.
Unfortunately, Jim had spent his fare back to Shetland and was faced with the problem of how to get home. It so happened a fishing boat from Burra Isle was in Aberdeen landing a catch of fish and the crew offered to take Jim home free of charge. Thus began an exquisite adventure and he went off in a state of breathless excitement. The crew had neglected to tell him they were going to fish on the way home. Therefore, the next morning found the crew southeast of Fair Isle, with no land in sight and the net about to be shot. Although unable to help, Jim witnessed the whole performance three times during the policy of the day, with what seemed to be large hauls of fish, and the weather worsening all the while. By evening, a gale was blowing from the west, and the skipper decided to head for Scalloway, where they berthed just before midnight.
Jim had to find work and he entered banking as a clerk in 1969. Thus began a long and undistinguished occupation in minor clerical and menagerial posts. Jim says it deserves no more mention than the fact of its existence, and it was broken by an equally undistinguished two years at the Faculty of Law at the University of Aberdeen. All the time he remained loyal to his first love, the sea and ships, and he still tried, with varying degrees of success, to portray these scenes.
How does Jim enumerate the sea, or express the thrill that he extracts from looking a fishing boat pitching and rolling straight through it? He said he cannot enumerate the feeling adequately except to say 'it's a vital part of my being - my very soul'. Painting, however, is a talent and an acquired skill, and Jim's quest to capture the exquisite seascape has all the time been his main conjecture for continued existence - my exquisite storm, my exquisite gale, my exquisite fresh breeze, my exquisite calm. Maybe some day Jim claims, he will get it right. Dali's words maybe offer some relieve 'Have no fear of perfection, you'll never reach it'.
In Jim's exquisite storm, almost all would be white with spray, with a marbled mess of dull greens, greys and blues. Any vessel would be an indistinct darker grey shape in the tempest. However, Jim reckons he has all the time been too tentative with his storms - saying he was too implicated with form and order. I recommend he abandon form and order, and swiftly wished I had not.
Jim's exquisite gale would have less white than the storm, but the sea would still be greys, greens and blues marbled with white, with spray flying from waves and wavelets, each wave a multi-headed medusa. Any boat out in this would usually have her head to windward, now diving into the swell, now throwing green water and spray from her deck as she emerges from it, before plunging into the next lump of water. Jim says he is too tentative; he has yet to paint his exquisite gale and he reckons it may never happen.
Jim's exquisite fresh breeze would be over an Atlantic or North Sea swell, with some wave tops breaking white, the colour of the sea more reflective of the clearer sky above, a fishing boat still pitching and rolling straight through it, only less violently. Jim has still to paint his exquisite fresh breeze seascape to his standards. On viewing Jim's paintings, the viewer might disagree with him. As for the calm, where the swell becomes oily in appearance, the boat rolls and pitches slowly, gently, and rhythmically, and the sea, a flexible, floppy mirror, reflects in some information what is above. Jim recommends time spent just observing the way the sea moves, like the living organism it is, and the changing colours which happen when it breaks. This sea gazing might attract appealing glances from passers-by and anxious thoughts in friends, but it is well worth it when the results appear on canvas. Jim wholly recommends leaving the rat race behind to watch the sea go by; it's amazing therapy.
When Jim sits in front of a blank canvas, with malicious intent (he said) to yield a seascape, there are determined things he has to think before applying any paint. These come in the form of assorted questions; where is my light appearing from? what degree and type of cloud cover do I want? Where is my wind going to be from - left, right, towards or away from, or somewhere in between? Just as leading is the compel of the wind, an exquisite part and article of which can be found in the Beaufort Scale, which specifies the assorted wind strengths and their effects. These criteria will sway the height of the waves and the whole of breaking water. With these questions answered, Jim can, with palpate and technique, yield a seascape either it features ships, coastal features, or both or neither of these elements.
In the conventional manner, Jim starts at the top, and begin to create the sky. The light in Shetland seldom descends directly from its source. It sneaks down in the middle of clouds, creating all sorts of gorgeous colours on the way. This phenomenon is even more noticeable in winter, when the sun is low in the sky. It is a pity, says Jim, there are so few hours in a winter's day to survey this spectacle, but, even so, Jim has spent hours just looking at the sky in summer, as it constantly moves and rearranges itself. Jim tries to transpose this onto canvas, as this creates a perfectly good backdrop to a seascape. The sky in Shetland, he explains, has a special silvery quality. There are unlimited phenomena in the Shetland skies - colour you will never see elsewhere. Agreeing to Jim, on a showery February afternoon the sky can consist of almost every colour of the rainbow! While visiting, I caught my first espy of a perihelion.
For fishermen, whose whole existence revolves round the weather, the most leading element is wind, and for the marine artist it is just as vital a feature. There are many amusing examples of the consequent of neglecting the factor of wind direction. Jim has seen paintings of steamships with the smoke from the funnel blowing from left to right in the picture, and the mizzen mast flag pointing the opposite way. Jim told me the artist who painted this has doomed his work to scorn in the eyes of any seaman who looked at it. Without realising it, Jim has exposed an integral truth: he does not work to impress anyone, not art critics, wealthy buyers, or even the paying public.
Nowadays, when there are few steamships still in operation, and sailing ships are used mainly for recreation and training, the wind direction is still as vital a picture component as in the days of Drake and Nelson. Basically, the covering of the sea moves in the direction of the wind, and this is how it should be represented by seascape artists. Jim has lived with the sea as his neighbour all his life and has delighted in painting all its moods. He has sailed, rowed, motored, played, and fished the sea and explored parts of the coastline, which are inaccessible from the land, and like most of his fellow Shetlanders, all the time accorded it the respect it deserves.
We are told the conjecture for the earliest manifestations of art, such as the gorgeous cave paintings at Lascaux, France, is power. These early artists, so we are told, produced paintings of animals because the depiction gave the artist power over the beasts, thus manufacture them good hunters. 'If this is the case, I must have been a most power hungry four-year-old. My father used to take me down to the Kiln Pier at Baltasound, on windy days, to see the fishing fleet sheltering. I sat on his shoulders to view the boats. My father could feel my small body stiffen in concentration. Later, I demanded a piece of paper and pencil, and produced a pretty good portrayal of what I'd seen.'
Jim's condition meant that rough sports were avoided. Whenever there was rough-and-tumble, usually Jim tumbled. He favorite to spend time on his own, enjoying the hills, the shore, and, wherever possible, the sea. He knew where the larks and other birds nested, where the blue milkwort and sea campion grew, and where the best pools for catching fish were. Jim was an master on the flora of Shetland by the time he was ten. Having myself photographed many flowers while visiting the Shetland Islands I bought a guide to the flora and fauna of Shetland, to help recognize the plants. Instead of identifying from the book, I sent all of the photographs to Jim and he named each flower by return.
At the age of twelve, Jim wanted to learn more about the gorgeous Norwegian longliners and whalers, which called at Lerwick and other harbours in numbers, so he began to learn Norwegian. This seemed a perfectly cheap thing to do, and Jim sees nothing excellent about this. He also has Higher English, French, and German and therefore can write and speak four languages to a high academic level. We could also take into consideration that Shetland has a language all of its own. Where else in the Uk do we see 'dinna chuck bruck' litter notices?
Apart from marine themes, Jim has tackled other genres with varying degrees of success. Jim suggests he paints landscape almost as often as seascape, although there is usually a marine element, because in Shetland you can never be supplementary than three miles from its 900 miles of coastline. Jim once presented an exhibition in Shetland Museum on the theme of cats and flowers - a singularly unsuccessful show Agreeing to Jim - as dogs, horses, female nudes, and interiors have all been. Jim has also attempted slightly more surreal themes while under the sway of a particularly famed artist at the time - sounds like Delvaux. In the case of being under the sway of well-known artists, Jim's view is, it is bad practice, like being under the sway of drugs or alcohol - the consequent is not Tait originality.
When asked if the sea was the only subject matter that curious Jim he said: 'the glib retort to the question: what do I paint? could be anything my clients want me to! or anything my clients will pay me to do. A similar response to why do I paint? could be because somebody is paying me to... As far as Jim concerned, there is a strong element of truth in this. After all, artists, like other people, need heat, light, food, drink and the rent paid.'
'I just closed a painting of two border collies against the background of a Shetland landscape. I don't even like dogs. A customer was willing to pay me a determined whole of money, so I did the work. That is the market reality of life, and that is what the consummate professional artist must do - anything pays the bills.' I conjecture Jim does not indubitably like painting other subject matter to survive and that is why he sounds so annoyed.
The downside of non-commissioned works is the together with ever-present fears that no one will like the results. Reasoning straight through the creation of a work, with the usual elements of combination and colour, not to mention space and time, is all the time a problem, but is much more acute where the whole understanding of the work begins from nothing! Jim is sure the day will come when he sits down in front of a blank board or canvas, and nothing comes into his mind at all. In fact, he feels has this already happened on several occasions, but the condition has been temporary! Many cures have been mooted for artists' block.
It's enjoyable listening to Jim's critique of other artists and how he arrived at the juncture he now occupies. He was watching an artist on television depicting a storm at sea. 'He used copious amounts of black and indigo to relate cloud, out of which appealing flashes of lightning were emanating. Underneath this dramatic sky was the sea, which consisted of horizontal streaks stretching the distance of the canvas. On top of this, an indeterminate shape, representing a boat, was plonked, looking like a squashed fly on a badly laid sheet of blue formica. This picture had not even a recommendation of the two most frightening aspects of bad weather at sea, which are wind and waves.' Jim was furious at this charlatan and his total misrepresentation of a storm at sea.
'Thunderstorms pose no greater threat at sea than they do on land. A direct lightning charge would probably damage a ship in a similar way to a shore-based structure.' Masts might be damaged and it could sway electronic equipment, but Jim has heard few seamen's tales about lightning strikes at sea. However, every year, ships and men are lost because of the action of wind and waves. 'For those who work on it, the sea can be a kind benefactor, but can also be a tyrannous master. It is a treacherous beast, ready to consume the unwary as its mood swings from benign, appealing and balmy, to dark, violent and threatening in the space of a moment.'
Hardboard and canvas are Jim's favoured surfaces, especially the smooth side of board, to be more precise. Jim's technique is to use paint level out of the tube onto the palette without thinners or lubricants. Therefore, a smooth covering is significant to evenly cover the area. It is worth traveling to Shetland to visit Jim's palette. It resembles a lunar landscape on a tray, with manifold piles of oil, stacked up looking like volcanic stacks in miniature.
The covering of a canvas is rougher and the brush requires a scrubbing technique to cover the canvas. Jim has to discard his brushes after every work and the bristles indubitably look like they have scrubbed a stone floor. Jim has also used the rough side of hardboard, which presents the same problems, only worse. This covering has to be primed, then applied with at least two layers of undercoat before it can be used at all. Jim tends to paint in thin overlapping layers, rather than singular thick coats. Jim finds this technique achieves the depth he seeks. 'A painting should be a window, rather than a wall!'
The only Shetland artist to cause Jim to stand in front of an artwork and earnestly wish it were his work, was Adam Robson 1928--2007. Robson painted in oils, but was a man of many other talents and achievements, Agreeing to Jim, such as writing. Robson was the author of the book The Saga of a Ship: the Earl of Zetland, (The Shetland Times, Lerwick, 1982). The vessel plied in the middle of Lerwick and the north isles of Shetland, carrying passengers and cargo. Jim's uncle, Adam Tait, was captain of this vessel during the 1939-45 war. Although the image, which had the strongest consequent on Jim, was of a bay, probably in Yell, the island with which Adam Robson had a strong connection. It was the consequent of light and spray on the waves, which were just starting to break as they approached the shore, and the land on the other side of the bay, that he had captured.
An early sway was Billy Kay, who produced an exhibition in the first Shetland Museum, built in the 1960s. This was indubitably the first show of artworks that Jim had seen there, while still at school. Billy was even good known for music and, in particular, for production of music recordings by other artists in his studio in Lerwick. A modest man, with small to be modest about, he was seen daily managing the house drapery and outfitters' shop on market Street. He is a man of many talents and interests.
In 1988, Jim had the honour of being asked to yield drawings to clarify the Shetland Folk Book, volume 8 edited by Billy Kay and John J. Graham 1921-2008. Graham was an additional one eminent Shetland writer, who was Jim's English trainer at high school. He was an additional one creative sway in Jim's life, and who, among other literary achievements, produced the Shetland Dictionary (Shetland Times, Lerwick 1979 1993, 1999). during the policy of producing these drawings, Jim had occasion to visit Billy to discuss the drawings, and was amazed at the jazz piano music, which seemed to be filling the whole construction from an unknown source!
Jim's friend and fellow artist, Liam O'Neill, has been an additional one determined sway in his life and work. Originally, from the Glasgow area, Jim first met Liam at Gray's School of Art, Aberdeen. When Liam moved to Unst as a trainer in the late 1970s, they renewed their acquaintance. Liam has been a source of encouragement when this was what was needed by most. By the late 1990s Jim had all but given up on art, following a series of, what he claims were, mediocre and poorly-received exhibitions at Shetland Museum. Liam visited one day, and in case,granted the significant injection of enthusiasm to overcome Jim's discouragement.
In 1999, Jim and Liam ran a stall together at the craft fair together with a visit of the Cutty Sark Tall Ships Race and, although Jim did not have sufficient time to yield properly understanding out and created paintings, he was back in the saddle. Many tough days followed, during which he re-thought his technique concerning painting seascapes. Liam was a ready source of encouragement and constructive criticism, and Jim's work improved immeasurably as a consequent of this. One of the things that Jim particularly admired about Liam's work was his masterful medicine of the shoormal, ie the maelstrom of broken water where the ocean meets the cliffs or beach, with its marbled patterns of blue, grey, green, and white. Surprisingly, Liam does not seem to be listed in the Shetlopedia of Shetland artists.
Another sway among the local artists, is Brian Henderson, an art teacher, again from the Scottish mainland and long-term resident of Shetland. Brian's work displays a mastery of the reflective surface. Brian does merit a sixteen-word entry in Shetlopedia, along with his name and where he lives. Jim keenly observed these Shetland artists and, states seriously he has, where possible, mercilessly plagiarised and plundered their work for material and ideas to maintain his own works. Jim is grateful his mind has been open to the inspirational consequent of these talented people. Ah, so he does have inspiration beyond the sea and skies.
Jim Tait is exhibiting in the tea-room at the gorgeous Duff House Galleries, Banff this year; 2009. He plans to have eighteen paintings ready for the exhibition and at the time of writing had one completed. Jim has captured the old Buckie Mfv Crimond rigged for the herring fishing, rolling straight through Yell Sound, with the Ramna Stacks in the background. an additional one exhibition was held in the Creel Inn, Catterline, largely themed on the harbours and fishing vessels of north-east Scotland, with a historical slant on the boats.
Jim Tait - marine Artist No URL
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