The Gifts I Always Knew Were There — How Art, the Ocean, and Turner Transformed My Life

Mark Noble - The 'Turner of the 21st Century' - Painter of Light, the Dream-like, and the Sublime

Listen to that small voice...

I love the word ‘maritime’. It says it all. 

Britain’s maritime climate is always changing thanks to two powerful natural forces: the North Atlantic Jet Stream and the Gulf Stream. 

The Jet Stream is a fast-moving air current that flows east to west across the Northern Hemisphere; it brings rain, snow, and gales, and controls our summertime weather. The Gulf Stream is a warm water current that travels from the Caribbean across the Atlantic Ocean, and if it weren't for this band of water, the UK would spend four or five months under snow and ice, so it makes a huge difference.  

I inherited my love for all things maritime from my father, who was an officer in the Royal Marines, and who travelled the world on the ocean. He and my mum lived in Singapore, Hong Kong, and Belize, and then, when I was born, they moved back to the UK.

For the first few years, we lived in Portsmouth, and I remember from around the age of three, sitting on the dining table in our living room, looking directly over the Solent, watching the storms roll over the channel, and the crashing wind and waves that made the windows shatter and shake. It was terrifying, but I loved it.

Sometimes, when Mum and Dad saw the first sign of storm clouds, we would go for walks along the beach to watch the sea change and feel the overwhelming impact of the waves against the sea walls. Of course, it’s not advisable to do that, but we were always careful, and it was during those years that I gained a deep respect for nature’s power. 

There is something spiritual about living by the ocean, something the Celts understood well; in their art, they could capture the essence of water that can’t be put into words, and as a young boy, I had similar feelings that I couldn’t explain; the sea stirred my soul, and nurtured my artistic impulse.

It's the call of nature and visionaries from long ago...

When I first started studying and creating art, I felt a strong connection with the artists who captured the grandeur of the natural world: Claude Monet, Edgar Degas, Edwin Church, and Joseph Mallord William Turner.

Turner (1775 – 1851) was a British oil and watercolour painter. During his lifetime, the world experienced a high volume of spectacular volcanic eruptions, such as the Soufrière Mountains on the Caribbean Island of St Vincent in 1812 and the Tambora volcano in Indonesia in 1815. 

In the aftermath of these colossal explosions, dense clouds of ash and gas poured across the globe, and sunsets glowed bright red and orange for years after. These ash clouds affected how Turner saw the world, and he strove to capture nature’s mysterious and inexplicable qualities through his art. Legend has it that he even tried to immerse himself in nature’s power by strapping himself to the bow of a ship as it sailed into the Solent during a storm.

Turner wanted to touch nature, and so do I. When I studied art in college in Weston-super-Mare, I regularly walked out along the seawall during storms, just like I used to with my parents. The sheer power of it enthralled me.

But nature’s power doesn’t always have to be loud; like snow, for example, it’s white and quiet, but when you walk on top of it, you hear that gentle crunch, crunch, crunch. It’s a different catwalk, but another example of how the natural world has many ways of stirring up joy inside of us.

For me, sublime means terror and beauty side by side. Whether it’s a furious storm or the majestic rainbow that comes after, my favourite artists captured the thrill of the uneasy relationship between beauty and terror, like a fault line hidden beneath a serene landscape.

Turner portrayed this uneasy relationship in one of his most controversial paintings, ‘Slave Ship’, where he depicts the true story of the Zong, a ship that sailed in 1781 and whose captain threw his cargo of sick or dying slaves overboard so he could collect the insurance. 

In Turner’s depiction, the ship is about to sail into a typhoon, beneath a dazzling sunset, while the manacled bodies sink below the waves. It’s a grim look at the violence of nature and the cruelty of man side by side. 

Turner was a man who felt deeply, and just like him, when I paint my feelings into a picture, it comes more alive.

I didn’t start painting until later in life. By the time I reached my 40s, I’d raised two children as a single dad and had many different careers as a result; I’d been a chef, a funeral director, and worked in factories, to name a few. Then, when my children grew up, I felt sad that I didn’t have a single qualification to my name. During my time as a funeral director, I’d seen how fragile life is, and it drove me to better myself and seek education.

I knew I had gifts, and I became determined to use them for good, so I enrolled in Strode College for adult education in Somerset and worked towards my GNVQs. But it wasn’t long before I began to struggle. In maths I couldn’t add up, in English I couldn’t spell, and even switching on a computer didn't make any sense. Eventually, my course leader, Kate, arranged for me to have a diagnostic test. 

It took two and a half hours to take the test, two weeks for the results to come back, and one minute for them to tell me that I was severely dyslexic and autistic. I can't tell you what a revelation that was at that age.

Because I had struggled with the standard subjects, Kate put me onto an art module, and all of a sudden, I felt free; learning became easy and exciting, all the things I had known it could be.

Discovering my artistic side and understanding my dyslexia and autism unlocked the door to my creativity. I knew many successful artists were like me, and I felt certain that this was what I was born to do.

I continued to push myself to see what I could achieve, and after college, I secured a place at Bath Spa University and, a few years later, completed a degree in fine art.

Since then, I’ve traveled around Europe, China, and exhibited some of my work in Japan, all the while learning about the art and culture around me. I see every day as an opportunity for me to grow as an artist and to build my reputation as a champion for other artists and those who are not traditionally welcomed into artistic spaces. 

It's the voice of the child I was...

I am so happy to have found my passion in life, but my journey has been difficult and extremely long-winded. Now I work with various organisations to make it easier for those who are struggling with differences. I want everyone to have an equal opportunity, no matter what, because human creativity is a wonderful thing.

The art of Turner and art in general are why I am so keen to use art to alleviate mental suffering.

Before my diagnosis, I had always felt something wasn’t right, and not understanding why led me to try to take my own life. I was also a heavy drinker for many years and used alcohol as a way to escape my problems. Even when I had finished my studies and was working as an artist, I continued to drink; I never saw the damage I was doing to myself until one day, a comment from my church pastor opened my eyes. I had been teaching and displaying my work at the art group, and Dylan came up to me and said, ‘Mark, your work looks different.’ 

He said, ‘Your paintings are not right.’

Feelings come across on the canvas, and my pastor spotted straight away that the drink was affecting my heart, even though I didn’t know it.

It was then that it dawned on me that my life was in danger if I kept doing this. I could lose my family and everything I’ve fought so hard for. That was a bleak prospect, to say the least.

Because alcoholism is still a taboo subject, many people suffer alone. I’ve been dry now for about four years, and I continue to write blogs on the topic to help others realise they can reach out for help.

Like mental health, art and its powers are still so misunderstood; I believe we need it to foster healthy communication and expression in our society. We would all be much happier in our souls if we released the parts of ourselves we are ashamed of through creativity. Nothing’s that bad once it’s released through art.

I advocate for the benefits of art in every way I can, through my own website, the talks and workshops I organise, and my role as ambassador for two charities.

Creative Portal is a website that connects the creative community and supports artists to make a career out of their work, and Outside In is an online platform that supports artists who may be excluded from the art world due to health, disability, or social circumstances.

Like Turner, the natural world is my inspiration: sunsets, sunrises, seascapes, watching a thunderstorm, going out for a walk, and observing the stars in the sky. I’ve been in awe of nature since I was little and am a firm believer that as adults, we should keep a connection to our childhoods and those magic moments that gave us shivers of excitement. Those are raw, honest feelings and a window into our true nature. 

I feel this especially when I teach children. Recently, I created a couple of art workshops for a charity called Children's World, but once I laid out the supplies, the children took over; they worked instinctively with what they saw and never asked for help. It was the most magical thing to observe. 

I also went to a school in Glastonbury last year, and the kids kept coming up to me saying, ‘Will we do this next term? Will we have more?’

Art is essential in education; it brings any subject alive and increases our understanding. Authorities are coming around to this realisation, but it’s slow. In medicine, however, doctors are now prescribing art therapy and walks in nature instead of dishing out pills, and we need more of this. Mental health is a problem, and I've certainly been on the dark side. So in the end, I want to put back into society what it gave me, and make the world a better place.

Art is my life’s blood; the more art you fit into your life, the richer it becomes, and if there was one thing I wanted to tell people about the importance of art, it would be to believe in yourself; that's the most important thing. We must never criticise or judge others’ attempts at artistic expression, especially children. I have heard too many stories of adults telling children their work is terrible; it crushes them and shuts off access to a valuable part of themselves.

For me, art is deeply spiritual; you cannot touch it, but you can hear it, like a voice in the wind. Art is the mystery of life itself.

It's the voice of home

Now I’m a grandfather to Ruben and Isabel, and I love painting with them and hearing their view of the world. 

My granddaughter says, ‘Grandad, where's the sun gone?’ 

I say ‘it has gone behind a cloud.’ 

She says, ‘How do you know that, for sure?’

And I don’t know how to answer her.

∞

Discover more about Mark and his art

Mark Noble - Artist Brochure

Mark Noble - Website

Mark Noble - Artist of the Month: Outside In:

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Mark Noble - LinkedIn

Find Mark on YouTube

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