This is rumoured to be a picture of Fredrk Snaith, possible the only one in existence, of him ‘Rubber Gloving’ on his favourite beach.

Beach One – where many of the gloves have been stumbled on.

Beach Two – up the coast, where some of the gloves have also been occasionally found.

‘Snaith’. ‘Snaith’ …. not a name to conjure with is it. But …. this reclusive, creative, and idiosyncratic man, who irritatingly, insists on ‘Fredrk as opposed to Fred, or Frederick, has, obsessively been dedicated to the RUBBER GLOVE.

Okay before you get, some of you, too excited …. these are Rubber Gloves as washed up by the sea on to beaches – near where he lives in deepest Cornwall.

Completely unrecognised …. he doesn’t care …. he’s been photographing the gloves for nearly 15 years.

This to him is tidal art. Accidental. Unpredictable.

Sometimes there, more often not.

Always retrieved by the sea – swept away.

Occasionally, to return in another place, another beach.

Is it ‘Art’? I asked Snaith.

Well, he replied: “If that bloke Hirst can put dead cows and sheep in a tank, if that woman with the strange mouth …. (pardon … ) …. ah yes, Emin, can sell her sex stained bed and underwear, and empties, if …. that Italian bloke can bottle his crap, if Serota at the Tate can have a man switch lights on and off and get paid for it …. look got to go …. you ask ME whether my work is ART”.

He then trudged off stooped, and looking …………. leaving me on a beautiful remote Cornish beach, but sadly not a glove in sight today.

Snaith is adamant that – despite scurrilous gossip, that the gloves are ‘as found’. He doesn’t touch them, add to them, or embellish in any way. They are all as ‘washed up’ by the sea. Naturally there.

Some just lying; some tattered by life at sea, some partially buried in pebble or seaweed. Remnants of a life somewhere. Way beyond the shore.

The results are surreal. “Does he consider his work surrealist?”, I once asked him. “Well, in the sense that they often end up in a bizarre way, I suppose so”, he replied. “Yea, I reckon Magritte, Ernst and Dali would have probably quite liked them”.

There is undoubtedly a strange beauty in these, almost human, artefacts, in the way they appear. A beauty which Snaith has discovered for himself.

There is no doubt that Snaith is the only person in the world who has devoted years to painstakingly photographing these tossed up by the sea objects.

Indeed, he is the world’s leading rubber glove photographer.

Secretive, reclusive, this photographer/artist has at last agreed to expose his work to the world.

He has selected 13 images to show.

They’re available on canvas (stretched) in both colour and black and white …. as well as on paper (see details).

The deal between us and TIDELINE EDITIONS and Fredrk. Snaith was finally …. Phew …. Signed and sealed, at Snaith’s tiny cottage, in a valley near his beloved wild beaches and sea, earlier this year. One of the conditions was that no ‘recognisable’ photograph of him was to appear anywhere; and that the location where he lived, even generally, was not to be divulged.

After a few too many strong Devon ciders, Snaith waved us good bye with a cheery wave, and the words …. “So next year I’m going to be a millionaire, am I!?” and roared with laughter. It echoed down the lane, as we wobbled our way to our waiting taxi.

Whether you decide to buy or not, thank you for visiting his exhibition here, we hope you’ll enjoy your stay.