Stravaig

Stravaig: to wander or roam without aim or purpose

The Lure of Snow, watercolour, ink and pigment on paper, 55cm x 75cm

As I sat high on the hillside in early December a bitterly cold wind swept down the glen from the north. Flurries of snow left their feathery imprints in the wet pigment of the sky I had just painted and as the breeze freshened and sun passed behind a cloud the temperature plummeted, instantly freezing the damp paper in a craze of fragmenting ice crystals. It is a painting born of the experience, of being there in that moment and place. To Stravaig opens up the possibilities for these moments to occur, a freedom in the unknown and in chance. Growing up on Skye it was just what we did as children, to go and play on the hill or shore, allowed the freedom to roam where we wanted, it’s a freedom in which I still take great delight.

Stargazing ii, watercolour and ink on paper, 54cm x 36cm

They may not be the easiest conditions to work in when the wind tugs at every piece of kit, water freezes on the brush, fingers lose sensation and knees stiffen on cold ground. But there is an exhilaration to be found in these moments, places observed in solitude and landscapes that become like old friends. It often compels me to remain outside working until the sun vanishes beyond the horizon, sometimes until the stars appear and work progresses by torchlight, best of all are the nights in a tent or bothy where nature feels so much closer.

Drifting, collagraph and etching, 14cm x 28cm

As often or not it is the wildlife and search for solitude that leads me roaming away from path or track. A glimpse of black throated divers might lead me to follow along the shore as they forge a way through the surf. Or to lie in a tent just above the tideline and listen to the world awakening.

Tranquility, watercolour and pastel on paper, 19cm x 60cm

There is much to see in the natural world, a world that doesn’t care about lists, priorities, objectives or plans. So to go into it with an open and willing mind, to follow a whim and see where it will lead seems to me to be the best way to be among nature. To stravaig.

Above and Beneath the Waves

The ocean is one of the last truly wild places on the planet, many of its secrets yet to be discovered and one of the greatest natural resources we have - for both wildlife and people. But the diversity and volume of life it supports is often at the fringes of our understanding, an unknown which few are able to experience first-hand…

Earlier this year I was privileged to take part in an artist residency at the Argyll Hope Spot alongside a number of other artists seeking to experience and respond to a unique and globally significant marine area. The Hope Spot designation is an initiative led by the charity Mission Blue which promotes action to explore and protect the ocean, inspiring public awareness and support for a worldwide network of marine protected areas. Argyll Hope Spot is the only Hope Spot within the UK and joins other designated sites such as the iconic Great Barrier Reef.

Through the Shallows

Slipping beneath the surface was to enter a world of abundance and step from the misty greys, greens and browns of a quiet shoreline into one of riotous colour stretching out across the seabed. It was both an uplifting and humbling experience, where the web of interconnection between species is highly apparent and a pertinent reminder that we are, all of us, part of that web.

Working directly from life is at the core of what I love doing and this project was no exception. A snorkel, waterproof paper, oil pastel and graphite were the basic kit carried into the water to swim out to a given location then drift on the current or be suspended motionless in an area of calm.

work in progress

Tidal Narrows

Serpulidae

To discover so much beauty and diversity was to experience the world with the astonishment of a small child again and revel in the delight of it all. From the delicate fans of pipe worms and translucent sea squirts to myriad small fish darting among the weeds, sponges in a kaleidoscope of colours and starfish nestling half-hidden among clefts in the rock.

Tiny Reef

And as I became more and more immersed in the Hope Spot I reflected upon this diversity and its place within the wider eco-system. This year, as for many years, I’ve spent time drawing and observing the wonderful coastline of Scotland and in particular the Isle of May where seabirds seem to fill the air and cliffs during the spring and early summer. Clear turquoise waters below the cliffs hint at hidden delights and an abundance of sealife that makes the island a magnet for the birds to raise their chicks and during the winter months for grey seals to birth their pups.

Below South Horn

As the devastation of Avian Flu this year all too poignantly illustrated, nature is a finely balanced web and one in which we still don’t understand the purpose of every strand. Like many others of you I’m sure, I find solace and inspiration in nature. It is a constant source of joy and the resilience it demonstrates is remarkable. By treading lightly and being curious, engaging with nature with astonishment, childlike wonder and love, I believe we have the power to rise to the many challenges facing the natural world.

South Horn

Over the coming months and years I plan to make some of my works available directly from my website on a regular basis in support of conservation and humanitarian charities helping the most vulnerable with the effects of a changing climate. If you would like to receive notification about this please contact me using the sign-up form on my home page.

All artworks pictured are part of The Natural Eye 2022 exhibition by the SWLA at Mall Galleries, London.

Across the Bay

Across the Bay

I was absolutely delighted to discover that one of my works “Across the Bay” has been awarded the Birdwatch and Swarovski Optik Artist of the Year Award in the 2021 Society of Wildlife Artists annual exhibition “The Natural Eye” at Mall Galleries, London.

The bay I’ve been drawing at is a wonderful place, it’s on a narrow spit of land that I’ve loved ever since I was old enough to toddle along it as a child, intent on grubbing around in the seaweed and rocks to see what lurked beneath. It lies at the north end of the Isle of Skye where a sheltered sea loch opens out onto the deep, rich waters of the Minch. Looking one way a sheltered bay gently sweeps around while in the other direction lie cliffs, crags and steeply banked shingle which create an altogether more rugged landscape in which to hunker down. It is a place I’ve returned to many, many times to draw over the past couple of years.

Late Afternoon at the Arches

This spring was cold, even at the start of May an occasional shower would transform the landscape for a few brief moments with a dusting of snow or torrential hail before watery sunshine returned and it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Early one morning in the pre-dawn a group of roe deer with frost still lying on their backs, breath steaming in the cold air picked their way along the beach unaware of my presence. A large bull seal regularly mooched around just offshore, seemingly content to just enjoy the calm water while one memorable afternoon an otter bounded along the rocks before slipping into the sea and bobbed up and down bringing up crabs and fish then chewing them noisily.

The drawings and paintings are the result of many moments of observation but even so there is so much more of the experience of place that doesn’t make it onto the paper - nature is abundant and all I can hope to do is capture a fragment as memory. This is what the experience of working on location is all about for me, just being in a place, not necessarily even drawing…. just being. These are places I love dearly, even more so the more I come to know them.

WANDERLUST: a journey through Latin America

The journey began on a sultry and humid August afternoon in Havana. The streets were quiet and a few older men had pulled small tables into the shade to play dominoes. Hens pecked in the doorways to fading colonial facades as vintage cars drove by and the pulsating beats of salsa drifted from upstairs windows. It was everything that might be expected from the capital city of Cuba. What was unexpected were the unique characters I met and their willingness to share stories, insights and feelings about life in this contradictory country as I sat drawing.

Lost Postcard: Girl at the Zapatero

One recurring theme to many of the conversations I had in Cuba was over the issue of communications, isolation from the rest of the world and broken chains of correspondence. And so the “Lost Postcards” series began, each with it's own story. From the girl at the zapatero (cobbler) sending news to a distant fiancé, to a market stallholder with family in the USA, to Edelmira the nurse waiting for a travel permit to work outside Cuba.

During my several months stay in Havana I returned to the same spots on the streets and in the local markets many times and found friendship waiting there. The simple act of drawing seems to hold a universal appeal and forged instant links between us as I tried to understand this vibrant and contradictory country.

Midday, Havana

Travelling onward through Central America from Mexico through the Highlands of Guatemala and onward to the Pacific coast a diverse and rich cultural heritage presented itself in strikingly visual ways. The traditional costumes of the region were perhaps even brighter and more prevalent than usual during the Christmas and new year celebrations, as whole neighbourhoods took to the streets in a carnival atmosphere. Drawing in those moments could be almost overwhelming and often relied on the good nature of a stallholder or some other interested onlooker to find me a place into which I could squeeze away from the crowds or perch on a good vantage point as I worked.

Chichicastenango Church

Those bright colours and hand woven textiles of Guatemala sprang back to mind on arriving in Bolivia a few years later, although now often topped off by the characteristic black bowler hat worn by many women.

Leaving the hubbub of the chaotic cities behind for the austere and stark beauty of the highlands required an acclimatisation to altitude and to a landscape in which turquoise lagoons could be full of deadly minerals, boiling sulphuric pools would seethe and expanses of glittering salt desert stretched to the horizon. The landscape seemed fantastical or otherworldly in many ways with seams of incredible coloured rock, some of which had been wind sculpted into bizarre formations or overgrown by tiny flowering cacti and succulents.

Unyielding

As the journey continued south the landscape became ever more enthralling, arriving in Patagonia in springtime to find flowers and lush vegetation on the lower slopes which quickly gave way to ice, snow and jagged black peaks above. Purposely travelling light there were many multiple-day treks into remote and mountainous regions, wading torrents of frigid meltwater, eating rehydrated “slop”, camping under star studded skies, basking in the sunshine and trudging through torrential rain but always marvelling at the awe-inspiring surroundings.

The ice scoured mountains, glaciers, icebergs, lagoons and rugged beaches of Patagonia were deeply affecting on an elemental level, speaking of a landscape in many ways impenetrable to and unspoilt by humans. Much of it has been protected as national parks with access strictly limited to a few accepted trails and passes, allowing flora and fauna to flourish. Despite this, the evidence of our wilful destruction of the natural world is still to be found here as in so many other places and can be heart-breaking in its scale and level of devastation.

Solitude

To spend time in such places of wild beauty, to stop and draw even when fingers are numb and wind attempts to rip the paper away is testament to just how affecting they are and the need to protect them. As painting is an extension of those raw moments of observation in the landscape it is also an attempt to distil and convey something of the profound experience of place.

At work in Chile

Treading Lightly

My most recent body of work is the culmination of several years spent gathering material in some of our most outstanding areas of natural beauty and wildlife around the Scottish coastline. Places in which there is a finely balanced ecological web in which just a single change can have devastating effects…such as the accidental introduction of rats to a small Hebridean island on which thousands of seabirds come to nest. Happily in this case a major restoration programme has brought the island back to its former rat-free status and previously absent birds such as the tiny storm petrel have begun to return.

Seemingly barren expanses of peat bog lands are actually a huge carbon store. Their vast bleakness never fails to inspire me and when I get down on hands and knees for a closer look there is a wonderfully diverse, colourful and almost exotic carpet of mosses and plant life. Or the delicate balance of the inter-tidal zone, constantly in a state of flux and in danger of sea levels rising too quickly for it to adapt.

But what really brings a place to life are the animals which inhabit it and the sense of wonder that an encounter with wildlife can bring. It always reminds me of our power and responsibility as custodians of the natural world and how we choose to act upon that.

Travels in South America

It’s been a busy few months since returning home after nearly four months of travel in Bolivia, Argentina and Chile. Travelling overland through Patagonia or the highlands of Bolivia, much of the time on foot and going up into the mountains or to wild uninhabited stretches of coastline for several days at a time was a breathtakingly beautiful experience. Glaciars, lagoons, jagged black pinnacles, immense rock faces, stunning wildlife, colourful traditional costume and extremes of weather from deep snow to baking deserts all found their way into the sketchbooks.

For now here is one of my new paintings based on a series of sketches made in Patagonia which will be on show at the Birch Tree Gallery in Edinburgh this month. https://birchtreegallery.co.uk/exhibitions/

The Natural Eye

It has been a busy summer of drawing out on location and the exceptional weather this year has made it a real pleasure to be out at the crack of dawn or late into the evening.

I was fortunate enough to receive a bursary from the Society of Wildlife Artists to attend the John Busby Seabird Drawing Course in East lothian in June. And it was an unforgettable week of new friendships, inspiration, the highs and lows of wrestling with subject matter and drawing conditions from glaring sunshine to drawing-snatching winds and the queasy motion of a small boat. We experienced the grandeur of impregnable sea stacks, rocky islands and pinnacled cliffs, swirling masses of birdlife overhead to sitting in the very midst of a gannet colony surrounded by sharply poised beaks and watchful eyes. It was a glimpse of life at its most vital and brutal.

A selection of my drawings and paintings made on location during this week as well as several framed works completed on location elsewhere in Scotland will be on show at The Natural Eye exhibition at the Mall Galleries in London next month 25th October-4th November.

Isle of May

Once again I have just spent a fabulous week drawing and painting on the Isle of May with great company and fine weather. After the long and late winter this year the seabirds were several weeks behind what I've seen in previous years when many were already on nests and eggs. And sadly there were several casualties washed up on some of the beaches. But, as is so often the way the island changed dramatically through the course of just seven days as puffins, razorbills and guillemots arrived in their thousands to clear out burrows or claim a cliff ledge. Eider ducks began prospecting further inland for nesting sites and the rasping call of a tern heralded their imminent return.

An early start to the drawing day on my way from the Low Light to the South Horn.

Working with a variety of media seems to work the best for me when I'm out and about. I really enjoy watercolours and although there can be issues with the length of time they take to dry, I have encountered "happy accidents" such as a rain shower leaving its mark on half-dry paint or being forced to work wet-in-wet. Here I am using a combination of watercolour with some conte and pastel to quickly block in areas then add a little finer detail

Sometimes its good to just really concentrate on the form of the birds and attempt to understand the shapes a little better. Making studies such as these puffins I spend a lot of time observing the movements, shapes and attitudes of the birds, aiming for a simplicity and fluidity of line without complicating my thoughts with colour or background.

Many thanks as always to Leo du Feu for organising and Nye Hughes, Emily Ingrey-Counter, Kittie Jones, Chris Leakey, Jane Smith plus all those working or carrying out research on the island for excellent company!

To watch a short film reflecting on our experiences of working on the Isle of May please visit the Scottish Natural Heritage YouTube channel HERE

Aberlour Whisky

It has been a pleasure working with Williams Murray Hamm agency creating linocuts for the new Aberlour whisky branding. The project has involved several designs using one of my favourite combinations of a single colour print with just a dash of red to spice things up. And linocut was selected as the perfect medium in line with the attention to craft employed by Aberlour in their production of this very fine Speyside single malt. As the Aberlour founder's family motto goes; "Let the deed show".

The campaign has just won Best of Show at the Mobius Awards in LA and is being entered for several other competitions. To see more and to vote for Aberlour in the People's Choice Award for branding category follow this link: https://creativepool.com/WilliamsMurrayHamm/projects/aberlour-for-pernod-ricard

New Works 2018

A quick taste of some of the new work I've been making here in the studio over the past few months (Frames Gallery from 14th April)....

....and out on location (The Rendezvous Gallery, from 3rd March).

Shetland

In June I returned to Shetland for a month as artist in residence at Sumburgh Head Lighthouse and RSPB reserve. The long days of the "simmer dim" when it never becomes completely dark, wonderful light of passing weather systems and the fantastic wildlife all provided a wealth of inspiration and a never ending source of fascination.

On the breezier days fulmars glide effortlessly at the cliff edges while puffins preen at their burrow entrances. From the rocks below, the faint whiff of guano drifts up from guillemot colonies where parent birds cling to seemingly unfeasible ledges, incubating their single speckled blue egg. Not far away in a shoreside boulder field, arctic terns are joined by gulls to announce the arrival of any intruders and a few ringed plovers, oyster catchers and turnstone patrol the waterline.

Looking beyond the cacophony of birdlife are the dramatic landscape forms, many sculpted even now by the ongoing effects of wind and water. And nestled among it is the evidence of human habitation, a derelict cottage, broken down wall or carefully stored set of nets and creels.

But for me probably the highlight of my stay was a trip out to the base of the cliffs on the Isle of Noss with photographer Richard Shucksmith http://www.shetlandphototours.co.uk/ and Phil Harris of Shetland Seabird Tours http://www.shetlandseabirdtours.com/.

Noss is a National Nature Reserve and the nesting site for over 8,000 gannets. These are birds which I've watched many times from shore since childhood as they make their characteristic dives into the sea or perched in their nesting sites. But this trip was to be something different...drawing the birds from close proximity in the boat and then slipping into a wetsuit and snorkel to spend some time in the (very cold!) water with them. It was great fun being out on the boat with Richard and Phil, getting some incredible underwater film footage and photography and absorbing all the knowledge they've gleaned over many years. Many of my drawings were rather liberally spattered by the birds overhead...a rather nice vibrant green as it turns out when dry! But the transformation in actually being able to see these birds as they dive and swim was extraordinarily beautiful, plumes of bubbles following them through the water and a shimmering play of light.

The Shiant Isles

The morning is clear with only a dampness underfoot as reminder of the misty night before and we are lightly buffeted by a gusting breeze from the south west. In the distance is a narrow spit of blue-grey shingle across which we slithered our way this morning from Eilean an Taighe (House island) to Garbh Eilean (Rough Island) where the beach gives way to a looming cliffscape. Standing in the midst of a craggy boulder field below these cliffs, thousands upon thousands of seabirds jostle, preen and take flight in a great swirling mass, some coming to settle and form huge floating rafts in the bay. Underfoot a puffin emerges from its burrow among the boulders. Further around the coastline immature white-tailed sea-eagles soar on the updrafts, heath spotted orchids and butterwort nestle in the grass and the ragged line of the Galtas churns the sea to a white froth.

These are the Shiant Isles, lying in the Minch between Skye and Lewis, uninhabited and with the sole permanent habitable structure being a tiny two room cottage which is our bothy for the week.

Huge vistas range uninterrupted from the distant blue hazed Cape Wrath in the north to the unmistakable landforms of the Quirang and Neist Point on Skye. The jutting silhouettes of Fladda Chuain and the Galtas interrupt the expanse of the Minch, then the eye sweeps onward to the Uists, Scalpay with its lighthouse and the nearer coasts of Harris and Lewis before swinging out to sea once more.

Exploring the islands they slowly begin to reveal some of their many facets. Rough, wind-scoured tops conceal nests and other treasures among a sea of browns from deepest sepia to palest bleached bone. These give way to lush pasture on the lower slopes where old run-rig field systems are still etched into the landscape. Sea thrift is abundant on the cliff edges, huge balls of it from the faintest pink hue to deep coral, providing a romantic if unappreciated bed for the mating razorbills. And the birds are our constant companions, whether the shrill unbroken song of a skylark high overhead, guttural call of great skuas or dull rasping and grumbling of razorbills and puffins. To be among such volumes of bird life, some almost within arms reach and unconcerned by our human presence is a breath-taking experience. As the sky suddenly fills with a flurry of beating wings it is almost overwhelming.

However, the islands have felt the impact of the introduction of a non-native species, a challenge which many islands face. The RSPB are currently in the process of a rat eradication programme, in conjunction with Scottish Natural Heritage and the Nicolson family who own the islands, aiming to help the recovery of seabird populations. The vegetation of the islands is also benefiting from the gradual decline of the grazing pressure by sheep. There is a strong hope that as the Shiants recover their natural ecological equilibrium they could go on to provide an even greater habitat, nesting sites and home to a huge variety of wildlife.

On our final morning the Shiants lie heavily wreathed in mist, a last walk onto the hill behind the cottage rewards us with two tiny snipe chicks huddled among the grasses. And when the mist blows clear enough to see the mass of Garbh Eilean, its towering cliffs and one last glimpse of the thronging seabird colony as we head out to sea, I know it is a place which will remain vivid in my mind's eye.

Printmking Summer School

I'm delighted to have been asked to work with the fantastic Off The Rails Arthouse in Ladybank, Fife in July to run a week long summer school in printmaking. Its a beautiful space covering two floors in a light flooded building next to the station and a great atmosphere to spread out with plenty of space and get messy!

I'll be hosting a workshop suitable for all levels whether a complete beginner or if, like me, you are looking to keep developing and refining your range of skills and techniques. There will be lots of time to experiment and be guided in how to incorporate printmaking into your current practice, no specialist equipment required so you can continue at home with just a few basic materials.

Printmaking is a huge part of my own practice, whether as editions or unique pieces, painterly or stylised. Its a great medium to explore and opens up so many options when you get to those critical decision making points in a painting and don't know what to do next...with printmaking you can make multiple versions!

More information is available at:

http://www.offtherailsarthouse.com/event/summer-school-monotype-the-painted-print/

Or send me an email to find out more.

A week on the Isle of May

The Isle of May in the Firth of Forth, only 1.5km long and about 0.5km wide, was a tiny paradise to spend every day drawing and painting earlier this spring. At every turn there is a subject waiting, from the ever changing light over the sea and distant landforms to birds jostling for space on the cliffs, seastacks and spume to the functional lighthouse buildings. Here is a taste of the week...

In the Footsteps of John Muir

Last month I was fortunate enough to tread in the footsteps of John Muir, the Scottish born naturalist, writer and early advocate of wilderness preservation, who played an instrumental role in the creation of Yosemite National Park, California.

Muir describes the Yosemite landscape in vivid and exhilarating detail as one of formidable and imposing rock formations, lush valleys, high sierra and cascading waterfalls, all begging to be explored in detail. In winter the landscape is transformed to a breathtakingly monochromatic simplicity with vast slabs of granite looming darkly in shadow or glaringly reflective under the midday sun and surrounded by a powdery blanket of snow.

Away from the valley floor the scale of the lanscape quickly becomes even more apparent. Consulting our map at the furthest point of a days hiking reveals that we have barely entered the vast expanse of wilderness which the park encompasses. The names themselves are evocative of place and form...Half Dome, Glacier Point, Chilnualna Falls, Clouds Rest, Hetch Hetchy.... Working with a very limited sketching kit, I stop periodically to make rapid notes and drawings.

The sense of urgency to capture an impression on paper is even greater during these short winter days. An extra frisson is added when the rumble of distant and sometimes not so distant ice and rockfall shatters the tranquility. The bases of waterfalls have become vast cones of snow as the water freezes on its long descent and the rockface to either side is frosted with patterns and icicles. Arriving on the plateau at the top of the falls is a moment of clarity as the narrow gully ascent opens out to a vast expanse of unbroken snow, scattered pine forest and yet further peaks. And as always there is the compelling intrigue of the unknown, stretching out into the distance.

Unfortunately not to be explored this time.... an approaching series of winter storms which raised water levels almost to flood level, caused numerous rockfalls and splintered trees like matchsticks made any real backcountry exploring inadvisable. But to be immersed over several days in such an awe-inspiring ladscape was incredible. In the words of John Muir "In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks".

An exhibition in the making

"Islander" solo exhibition in Aberdeen

I'm returning to the Rendezvous Gallery in Aberdeen this month with a new show of works from the Shetland Isles, the Isle of May, Isle of Skye and various skerries and sea stacks of the Scottish coastline. Much of the work has been completed on location, observing not only these extraordinary landscapes but also the rich habitats and seabird life which they support.

It has been a priviledge to put this body of work together and allowed me to explore some of the most dramatic and inspiring coastlines in Scotland. From the fog-shrouded first landfall of returning puffins in spring to the deafening roar of wind and waves from which I was eventually forced to retreat back to shelter on Shetland. All have presented a new facet and different insight to an environment constantly in flux.

The exhibition opens on Friday 4th November 6-9pm and continues until 19th November.

Drawn to Land and Sea

Drawn to Land and Sea opens at Kinblethmont House Gallery in Angus on Saturday 29th October 2016. It is a collection of works by Leo du Feu, Nye Hughes, Kittie Jones, Lara Scouller, Susan Smith and myself inspired very much by our week-long expedition to the Isle of May earlier in the year, supplemented by other drawing trips to coastlines and islands.

If you would like an invite to the private viewings on Friday 28th and Saturday 29th October please contact me.

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Sumburgh Head Artist in Residence

Arriving into Lerwick in the early morning by ferry, Shetland is wreathed in a fine low-hanging mist which blankets the landscape, softening and enveloping its edges. Later in the day glorious summer sunshine will break through creating dazzling patterns on the sea. It is emerging from a lingering pocket of mist into such sunshine that there is the first glimpse of Sumburgh Head Lighthouse. From land which has tapered away almost to sea level the ground suddenly surges upward again to create one final jutting headland of rock, scoured meadow and cliffs, home to the Robert Stevenson designed lighthouse and nesting site to thousands of seabirds.

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Constructed in 1821, Sumburgh Head was the first lighthouse in Shetland and the Smiddy building which also served as accommodation quarters for occasional or visiting lighthouse keepers now became temporary studio and home for two weeks. 

Arriving in a new environment can be exciting but also daunting - where to start, what to draw first, how best to capture a sense of place and above all how to do it all in a finite period of time. Not to mention battling with wind, rain and a drawing board determined to take flight on those days when the weather is a dramatic sequence of shifting light and wind-blown spume but every movement is a struggle against the elements.

There is however something about more demanding conditions which sharpens the senses and a rush of energy to get it down on paper before the moment passes. In this drawing made on Noss, the crest of the hill or Noop of Noss was catching a strong breeze and wisps of cloud and mist being blown up and over the cliffs. I had initially hoped to include a group of gugas (immature gannets) just the other side of the wall but after only a few strokes of the pencil their initial inquisitiveness turned to nervousness and one by one they took flight, dropping down from the edge then catching an updraft to soar along the cliff. My attention shifted to this viewpoint of the birds at eye-level and constant wheeling of their white forms above dark caves in the cliffs.

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The quality of shifting light was one of the most attractive aspects of Shetland, and of many islands where the expanse of sea heightens the effect of varying conditions. From stark, almost painfully bright glints on water and wet rock to the soft blending of low cloud where it becomes impossible to distinguish the horizon line.

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The lighthouse became a focal point in many drawings, this one made from a sheltered cleft between huge slabs of black rock. It had been windy enough to whistle constantly through the keyholes of the cottage and transform the sea to a white froth of spindrift and spume. What particularly attracted me was the contrast of slick black rock, seafoam and scattering of boulders and pebbles thrown up at my feet by previous storms. On some of the rocky outcrops just the other side of the cliff wall the shags clustered together in large groups, feathers ruffled, waiting for calm. The next day they were gone, only to be glimpsed on thier more habitual low lying perches at the sea edge.

The landscape itself has many different aspects to give, on Mousa the impressive Iron Age Broch, stone walls and beaches are home to the beautiful storm petrel. Coming to land only after nightfall its call is a strange combination of whirring chirps and inspite of its diminutive size (a little bigger than a sparrow) it spends most of its life at sea. I had the rare priviledge of seeing the birds at close quarters thanks to a team who were undertaking some ringing and documentation work. The storm petrel has an unexpectedly musty scent similar to an old house which has been closed up for too long and a wonderful way of stretching the wings skyward for a moment or two before take-off almost like a gymnast or high-dive athlete poised in the moment before action. Then a swift ficker and they disappear back into the dark.

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Each day at Sumburgh brought a fresh perspective on the same subject. Looking out from the lighthouse over Scatness to Quendale or south to Fair Isle, watching weather systems passing through, fulmars effortlessly gliding by with the merest tremble of the wings to change direction and occasionally a glimpse of things that the landscape has concealed -  both man-made and natural.

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I will be returning to Sumburgh in June 2017 for a month during which time I will be exhibiting work produced as a result of the residency. Some works from Shetland will also feature in my forthcoming solo exhibition at the Rendezvous Gallery, Aberdeen during Novemebr 2016.

Drawing at St Abbs

I had a fabulous couple of days last week exploring the dramatic coastline at St Abbs and sight of thousands of guillemots jostling for space on the sea cliffs. Every now and then the mist came swirling in from the North Sea and obscured all but the faintest ghost of the crags, the only indication of life being the persistent high pitched calls of the kittiwakes and background chatter of guillemots and razorbills.