LORNA MACINTYRE: Self-Directed Residency, 2015

A dream of red squirrels. I am a red squirrel./ Lunar eclipse/Supermoon/Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point/ Islay Whisky/ Reading Margaret Tait in the sunshine on the deck to the sound of birds/ Vegetables, fruit, porridge, coffee and eggs, vegetables, fruit, porridge, coffee and eggs/ Exhilarated, a scramble up a waterfall and onto the ridge of Beinn Bhuidhe/ Le Rayon Vert/ Cleo from 5 to 7/ Big Women/ Mixing ‘chance and choice somewhat scandalously’/ Looking for the pillow stone/ Oatcakes and island views at the top of the Sgurr with a sailor and a collie/ Mushrooms growing in a cowpat/ Sun rises over ridge at 11am, moon rises over ridge at 11pm./ Sun sets over sea 8pm/ Looking for the green ray.


Stone-Like Thing (Ribena/jurassic sandstone), 

Silver gelatin print toned in Ribena


Stone Like Thing (Bubblegumade/jurassic sandstone),

Silver gelatin print toned in Bubblegumade

GRAHAM NIVEN & AMY FERGUSON: Self-Directed Residency, 2015

Bluebells and Bracken.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Saturated light-after-the-rain floods the bothy,
washed clean, separate and perfectly reordered.
Waterfall driven upwards,
spraying the stillness of the stony cliff-face,
ruptured by The Finger of God
in some exultant acknowledgement
of the pivotal power of the skies.

Singing to the sunlight from a stony wall,
blackbird flies low to the nest of bramble brush,
vast enough to accommodate the neighbouring Golden eagle,
a beaver’s lodge anchored in a river of bluebell,
encroaching banks of bracken.

A rigid wooden swordfish pitches and rolls
head-on down the south-west passage of the Sound of Rùm,
one white sail followed by a taught triangle of russet
and I felt I could have been a woman of Eigg,
scores of centuries old, curious to know these skillful seafarers.

Luminous greens, amber, violet and indigo.
Rùm exhales unfurling clouds, building and drawing closer
’til all is mist and squall.

Amy Ferguson


spyng on sweany bothy from cleadale cliffs

bothy spying from above

eigg croft museum

eigg shells 4

eigg croft museum 1

eigg shells 1

ya old boot


Lapwing ground

the shot