Take 20 seconds and really look at this painting.

The painting above is by Cornish primitive artist, Alfred Wallis (1855-1942). Wallis lived in St Ives and was a fisherman and 'marine stores' dealer. He lived a very simple life, marrying a widow 20 years his senior and inherited a family from her first marriage. When his wife died, he took up painting for company in his 70's using bits of scrap card and board, old boat paint from his scrap merchant days and used the primitive paintings as payment for bread, meals and other essentials.

Living in a tiny fishermans cottage in the fisherman's quarters, Wallis painted every day on anything he could find as he got older until one day he was discovered by Ben Nicolson and Christopher Wood (British Artists) who took his work to London and latterly to James Ede at University of Cambridge. Ede then bought paintings from Wallis by the bundle for many years for a shilling a bundle, preserving over 120 of his paintings at Kettles Yard, University of Cambridge.

Wallis was taken to the Madron Institute (poorhouse) where he died aged 87.

So why have a blogged all this. Well, the answer is simple. Wallis knew nothing about painting. He'd never been taught and hardly schooled. He painted because he wanted to and painted scenes from his own life. The picture above shows four fishing boats in the wake of a large fish (possibly a whale). The men look so weathered, so cold - the water so real. The sea is animated, the waves so true and alive. This was his reality. He saw this scene, felt the wind, tasted the sea - all before the first plane had flown, before the world had first fought its two wars and when sails were only just being replaced by engines.

Wallis died recalling his life on scraps of card, alone in a backstreet with people thinking his paintings were worthless. He would have been buried in a paupers grave had some of Londons most famous artists not rescued him and bought him a plot at St Ives cemetery where he now lays.

Alfred was my great, great, Uncle. His portrait was hung on my childhood stairwell wall and I thought nothing of him until I started looking at my family history a few years ago. At 30, I look back at my life and wish that i could so openly share with people images of the things that I have seen, the things and experiences that have shaped me. I can't draw or paint and I believe that there is a social commentary in Alfred's work that is lost on our time.

With boat paint and card, I've seen into Alfred's life. I've smelt his sea and breathed his air.

I wonder how I will be remembered if I live to 87. What will my legacy be? If I can be remembered by people for simply telling the story of my life for little reward - I will die a happy man.