To Orkney, and Papa Westray

 We were fortunate enough to make a trip to Orkney mainland, and onwards and northwards to Papa Westray, a tiny island in the norther part of the Orkney Islands archipelago.

Papay is small - 4 miles long x 1 mile wide. Population now 81, after a baby was born a week or so ago!

The flight from Kirkwall on the main Island of Orkney to Westray, then onto Papa Westray is a small 8 seater plane.  The ferries and all boats had been cancelled due to the high seas; and the winds were gusty to say the least. We really hoped we could fly; at the same time as we wanted to be really safe.

The pilots are something else, and as we made the landing onto Papay we came down sideways, nursing the plane along against the gusty cross-winds. Quite the adventure!

Here are some of my favourite moments and reminders of what was the most magical of days.

The view as we flew was inspirational.

The small bothy museum on the island was stunning its elegance and simplicity. This humble building portrayed simple, and no doubt sometimes, tough lives in a beautiful honouring.

The real reason we had headed to Papay was to see the Snap of Howe. The oldest house (at least 5,500 years old) in Europe. The architectural design, the stone workmanship and the sophistication of the dwelling was astounding.

St Boniface's Kirk is on the site of a 12th century church and has been restored.  lovingly. The graveyard held viking stones and others through the ages. The lichen on the stones and the gravestones was probably the best I have ever seen.

Inside the Kirk, this quietly drifting out bouquet felt both pensive and poignant.

And on Holland Farm, every door on every building was painted this fabulous red!

I would be back to Papa Westray in a heartbeat.

On mainland Orkney, we visited the Ring of Brogan once again.

And discovered the Barnhouse village.

A seat outside St Magnus Cathedral, honoured the victims of war with these beautiful poppies.

Inside the cathedral, so many wonderful carved gravestone markers! 

And such quiet and reflective art (Ilana Halperin and Kiyoshi Yamato) at the Pier Arts Centre in Stromness.

We are fortunate that the ferry to Orkney is only a half hour drive away; and that the crossing is only 1 1/2 hours (I am no sailor). To have such history and beauty and art nearby is special.

The flight from Westray to Papa Westray is the shortest commercial flight in the world - ours took 90 seconds...

Introduction to Silversmithing

 All, what a treat of a day it was doing an Introduction to Silversmithing Workshop with Lindsey Gallacher in Thurso.

I had been pondering what I might make and came down on the side of a pendant. In my mind, it had two pieces, hung vertically and had contrasting textures or colours.

Close.

Lindsey gave us a great introduction and lots of options. We looked at the sorts of things people had done and achieved in previous workshops, and that visual stimulation created more thoughts, ideas and possibilities.

I selected these pieces out of the sample box - each of them had some element I responded to.

I struggled to work out which combination I might use - which two thoughts could combine well?

Nothing was saying yes! to me and I got a bit stuck. Barry said - just choose three. Simple.

Then I had to work out what size would look good; and of course, I ended up in the Goldilocks situation - this one too big (1.5cm square); this one too small (1cm square), so I went with the middle size (1.3cm square).

I knew I wanted to contrast shiny and matte; but I also wanted to try oxidising as well, so I fiddled and I faddled until something clicked.

The result absolutely thrilled me.

Barry had made a ring, which looks amazing, and he had a scrap or two left over so I was able to score a pair of stud earrings from the leftovers. Brilliant!

It was a perfect day of creativity and learning. I would highly recommend a workshop with Lindsey if you are ever up here on the North Coast of Scotland...

Thursday Thoughts...

“Moreover, poems are not language but the content of the language” 

 Mary Oliver

I have been reading Mary Oliver's handbook to poetry and this was one of the many underlinings I made.

I am a fairly concrete writer, and one of my challenges with poetry is to abstract a notion, to find ways to have a reader understand something that isn't simply told. To find a way for folk to discover a beautiful thing, by way of metaphor and abstraction.

Most of the time I am far too direct.

Here I think she is trying to say that poetry isn't just the words - it is somehow within the words, a small or precious notion that the words wrap around and suggest. That poetry is there, more with the feelings, associations and expressions of the words, than in the direct meaning of the words themselves.

The beginning of a public art poem by Evi Westmore, in Inverness.

Pottering about

 I have had a few moments here and there to sit and think about making artwork.

I have been wanting to create several small pages for a book; thinking about interesting backgrounds to work onto and into.  I had really hoped to get this work well advanced before we head back; but somehow I doubt it.  We have been away for three days and it is amazing how much time back here gets spent doing life, yard work and life.

Nevertheless.

So I have jotted down ideas as they arrive in those half-waking moments in the night. Ideas that come roaring forward and need attention. Ideas that on waking you rush to recall and note down. They seem so right and so true. The test is if they hold up in the full waking of day .

This book is part of a pair, which I'm working on at companionable distance and via email with another artists' book maker based in the UK. Thus far we have set a few parameters and shared some papers and we have set forth into that unknowing yet challenging and wonderful space of collaboration.

Collaborations can be scary, frustrating and odd; yet for me they are most often stimulating and wonderful and humbling. I am looking forward to these books emerging; hoping that they are of good enough quality and well resolved.

My wee studio space in the cottage is proving a fine place to play and working within limitations is always good for one. Also oftentimes frustrating. I simply do not have access to a quarter (sixth? eighth?) of the things I might usually call upon.

Even my water glass is a second hand vase!

So I played with some watercolours I had, and some inks I had, and tried to see if I could make anything interesting out of them. A piece of toilet paper acted as my dauber. I'm all style. 

But I also played with some plastic wrap -  a technique I recall from decades ago but have never really put into practice, and played with bit of string.

In the end I had maybe 6 pieces that were of interest to me. Or maybe 4. 

This lovely blue is something; but not just the thing I am looking for. But nice to have met!

I don't really know if I have found what I am looking for; but at least I am testing a few things out. As ever, steps taken re never wasted.

Innerpeffray Chapel

 My last post was all about the Library at Innerpeffray; but onsite was also this Chapel. It was in the upstairs, almost mezzanine room, of the Chapel that the first Library books were stored.

I didn't know what to expect - it was during rain, we dashed across thinking yes, we should probably have a look before we go, and my breath was simply taken away. Its serenity. Its beauty. Its simplicity. A place of calm.

We were fortunate to have the space to ourselves and could observe, contemplate and absorb.

The doorway in, font by the wall.

Looking down from the altar.

Looking up towards the altar.

Alongside the altar the door and narrow spiral staircase to the 'upstairs' room.

The original Library space, from the top of the staircase.

Looking upon the Chapel from the Library space window.

At the altar end, my attention is drawn to a highly decorative, carved headstone. The carving looks naive;  or in a way, modern. Yet I stop and check - it has dates like 1678 and 1707. It must be really old. In the short time we have left, I can't come to a full enough understanding of who it is about, who may have commissioned it, who is represented. I am a wee bit baffled. Intrigued, but definitely unsure.

It seemed to be very much about a couple's children. So many children. I am still not sure.

Each child's name is carved into the stone and a figure rises above the sone to represent them. I think.

The style of the carved lettering also looks naive-modern to my eye, so I check the dates again. It still says 1707.

The play of light and shadows on this side made the figures even more interesting.

I have done no homework on the Chapel; and especially none about this headstone.  I may find that it IS a modern replica, or a modern original to commemorate a special family.  But there is a deep story within it that makes me want to know more.

Thursday Thoughts...

"Be where your feet are".

 Scott M. O’Neill

The elegant simplicity and purity of this message.

I oftentimes struggle with getting ahead of myself; I have an immense capacity to catastrophise; to get to the end of the disaster before it has taken more than a few tentative steps.  My mind races ahead, trying to anticipate, trying to work out strategies to avoid the worst that might happen.

And so I spend a fair  bit of mind time trying to work out how NOT to be doing that, how to be mindful and present and all of those other practices that stop me anticipating awful things in an anxious manner.

Then this!

Talk about being grounded.

I just love it. 

My feet are here. Now. In this place. With these people. This is where I am.

Note to self:

Be there in your mind too.

Our feet together. Red dirt. Uluru.

Innerpeffray Library

Serendipity is real.  Whilst in Dundee, and waiting for Barry to emerge from a room at the Verdant Mills Museum, I picked my way through some tourist brochures. I saw one saying Innerpeffray Library and picked it up thinking it might be interesting.

Fortunately for us it was in the general direction we were headed the next day so we plotted a route that would get us there. It pelted rain and blew a gale as we drove, we headed off the wrong direction once or twice, but we were rewarded for our persistence. Many times over.

It is the most beautiful of places, with the most wonderful of stories. It is in fact, the very first free, public lending library in the UK. It was established in 1680.

Founded by David Drummond 3rd Lord of Madertie he established a permanent endowment (a "Mortification") to ensure its future. Originally the books were kept in a small room in the Innerpeffray Chapel, and have been looked after since then by The Keeper of the Books. We met the current Keeper Lara and she showed us many of the treasures.

In the early 18th century his heir Robert Hay Drummond took over responsibility for the Mortification, and he built a new building to house them which was completed in 1762 - the building which still houses the Library today.

There were many highlights. The generosity of spirit of the founder - who also established a free school on the site 20 years before the Scottish Government Act required free education for all - in opening his Library to local people - it was meant to "be for all" , has lingered with me.

The school was operational until 1947; and the Library only stopped lending books in 1968.

I could wax lyrical as they say about the whole experience and the wonder of it all, but the real highlight for me was the Borrowers' Registers. Handwritten, the registers contain the names of borrowers and the books borrowed with the first recording in the first book in 1747, and the final one in 1968.

The borrowing of a book was treated as a sort of a contract, and the person's name, address and sometimes occupation were collected, along with the title of the book and how long they were borrowing it for.

Perhaps depending on how trustworthy they were, or how local they were, how often their journey took them by the Library, it seems the borrowing time could range from 2- 6 weeks.

as the books were returned, the Keeper would draw a line through the entry.

Some borrowers could probably read, but not write and they simply signed the entry rather than wrote in their own hand. It would have been a long walk for local people to come across the farmland to borrow books, and I love that they were able to.

When I asked about women borrowers, there were some. Our conversation turned to how women however, were mostly working in and around the home; whilst men's work often took them further afield. It is possible men borrowed the books, but women read them aloud in the evening to the family.

I so want to investigate these registers and discover some of the stories within. If anybody has family history that links to the area of Innerpeffray, outside of Perth, it would be marvellous to see if one's ancestors had borrowed from the library, and to learn which books.  To then visit the Library and hold the books they borrowed - well, that would be something precious.

The Library is fully committed to sharing and holding the books, and will access particular books you might wish to see; as well as having some brilliant displays along themes, and along historical lines.

It is probably good that blogging in Scotland is such a slow process for me - and we have to head out for dinner - or else this post could go on for ages!

I will do another post on the Chapel as well, and can only highly recommend an online visit to the Library.

Thursday Thoughts...

“Artists are driven to do what they do no matter what. It’s a very powerful ambition and they pursue it in whatever way works best for them. Artists have a practice and pursuing and developing it is always the motivating factor, not whether or not they will sell something or even find a venue in which it can be seen.” 

Whitney Museum curator Carter Foster on grit 

I must admit I think an artist, or a maker's, mind is constantly sifting through signals, connecting disparate thoughts, seeing images and translating them in their own way. I think their minds are often viewing the world in a particular way and are quietly, sometimes subconsciously, formulating ideas about telling a story, or making a work that expresses certain things. 

Many of us are then compelled to make a piece in response to this gathering of stimuli, thoughts and experiences. I certainly can't speak on behalf of artists who sell really well or are held in prestigious collections, but in my own small way I know that I sometimes really need to say something; or I really need to feel something. And make it I will, with no real thought that a buyer exists for this; or a collection might be interested.  I need to make the work I need to make and then afterwards comes the latent pondering of whether I should try to sell it, or contact an institution, or enter it in a show or a prize.

Fortunately I don't have to make my living as an artist, if I did, perhaps my thinking might change.

St Mary's Chapel and headstones

 Last week we visited the 12th Century St Mary's Chapel. It was a lovely day for a wander, with a big blue sky and no wind.

As ever, I am taken by the centuries old carving, the labour of love of the person who did it, the accommodations they made, the errors they rectified, and the beautiful hand of the maker seen so vividly.

This was a very early one - and the ligature between the N and the D in AND caught my eye.

This one had a lot of loveliness going on.

The spelling of Stone. Henderson is shortened with two lots of ligatures and the absence of a second E. And always, the beautiful ampersand on its side. The spelling of July - with the very old I instead of J, and the addition of another L.

A detail, with the spelling of Wife, with a U.

The three-way ligature with TH and E in MOTHER, and the lovely R tucked into farmer.

The spelling of DIED also appealed, as does the shortening of September.

Another upside down/sideways ampersand.

The ligatures between N & E in STONE, and H & E in HEAR (here). The spelling of LYS (lies)... 

I could spend hours looking at old headstones and thinking about the people who carved them.

Sunrise during the week on our way to the cove.