Jane Blackmore has an innate understanding that what not rendered is as important as what is, and within her works the viewer is constantly challenged to interpret and reinterpret what they see.
There is a narrative beneath the surface of all her works. Both enticing and remote, we are reminded that our role as viewers of Blackmores’ landscapes is emotional rather than physical.
It is this emotional content to the works that makes them surprisingly unsettling; often they trouble the viewer with a tangible sense of loss or absence, as though something has just happened but we are seconds too late to see it.
The artist shows us the ocean just before or after the sunrise, or reflecting the brilliant light of an absent moon; we see the tremulous wake of a ship, but never the burst of energy created by the ship’s engine; Slivers of light appear on the horizon alluding to a future we can only imagine.These are landscapes of the mind. Both deeply personal, yet candidly frank. We get the sense that we know these places, that they are somehow part of more than the artist’s vision, but of our own too.