HALLO DAVID

MATT STALKER: Self-Directed Residency, 2016

Everything is slower here. “In these crannies of the mountains, the mode of supplying elemental needs is still slow, laborious, personal… There is a deep pervasive satisfaction in these simple acts. Whether you give it conscious thought or not, you are touching life, and something within you knows it.” Nan Shepherd, ‘The Living Mountain’

Inshriach Bothy

The walk from the wood store to the axe’s haggar at the chopping block; the careful assembly of a rickle of broken fingers of kindling atop the reeshle of crushed newspaper, brought to fragile life by the flame of a single match, nursed until grown-up into a blaze enough to raise the rationed water from cold, to warm, to boiling. And then its almost ecclesiastical ministry to the coffee grounds, followed by the rich smoky smell, steam rolling over itself in ascension, the heat on the lips and tongue as the cup is drawn to the mouth, and then — finally — the taste.

Everything is slower here. And gratitude comes easily.

Glossary (with thanks to Nan)
Haggar – clumsy hacking
Rickle – a structure put loosely together, loose heap
Reeshle – rustle

There must be many exciting properties of matter that we cannot know because we have no way to know them. Yet, with what we have, what wealth!

Nan Shepherd, ‘The Living Mountain’

Loch an Eilein

Such quality of light I have seldom seen. The Sun dropping behind the Cairngorms casts colours across the sky that bring to mind peaches, gold bullion, candy floss, the aphrodisiac neon of the urban — things that have no place here amidst the timeless Scottish hues of brown earth, of white frost, of mustard yellow and mauve heather.

Standing at the edge of a loch standing like glass, reflection is a natural process. The mind is drawn into reverential silence. Sentinels of the water, we stand as quiet as the venerable Scots Firs rising up from the earth around us. We don’t speak. To utter a sound now is to heave a rock into the stillness, disturbing the way things are: just as they are.

At the far side of the water, the slightest of breezes ripples the surface, trembling the Rorschach reflections of the forest. Its fringes become animated — pixelated, deconstructed, forms dissolving in skittering morse code dashes and dots.

Time doesn’t mean anything here. Each moment extends out fluidly, soundlessly, peacefully, magically.

LISA BECKERS & MARLOES MEIJBURG: Self-Directed Residency, 2015

TIME EXPERIENCE: No clock…no forced Greenwich Time…but inner time experience which gave me concentration, enthusiasm and lucidity.

CHILDHOOD: Exploring the land, playing with soil, plants and light. Freedom, no boundaries, no property. Spending time as a kid.

PIGMENTS: Seize colours from the ground, catch them on camera, collect stones, plants and moss. In search for natural colors, deep and pure.

Marloes Meijburg

www.lisabeckers.nl / www.marloesmeijburg.com

I’m standing in the night. The Moon is shining and the snow is lying as a blanket over the plants and trees, giving off a warm silent vibe. At first I’m a little bit anxious, standing there alone. I look around me and listen if I hear something. …Nothing… Then I realise there is no reason to be anxious and I feel a calmness come over me.

The Bothy is surrounded by small hills. It feels cosy, I almost forget it’s cold outside. I’m walking back to the cabin, where I can sit by the fire and dream on.

I’m slowing down. Everything is at ease.

Lisa Beckers

ANALOG DIARY

-WELTRUSTEN LIEVE SNEEUW-

-GOEDEMORGEN KLEUR-

PROJECT MARLOES

I’ve collected soil during long walks, looking for the right colour and texture. In the Bothy I dedicated my time to make my own pigments with it. With these pigments I’ve made my own paint. My time in Inshriach gave me the opportunity to be outdoors for long hikes and to collect the mood of the forest.

PROJECT LISA

My idea for my Artist’s Residency at the Bothy was a research into colour. I normally focus on shapes, but since I’ve started using pigments I’ve begun to realize how important colour is. I duplicated some colours of the Scottish nature as accurate as possible and explored different colour combinations at the Bothy location.

My eyes were constantly drawn to the different shades of colours in the faded and dead heather plants. Or fascinated by grass turning into a greenish blue because it’s lying in the water.

Because of a mutual fascination for nature and the use of natural paints a spontaneous cooperation developed between Lisa and Marloes.

Fascinated by organic forms, Lisa is seeking details that are reflections of the overall.

In search for emptiness, away from turbulence, Marloes is searching for the essence of raw landscapes. What keeps her busy is the question of how nature provides calm and refuge in a stressed society.

Want to see more? www.lisabeckers.nl / www.marloesmeijburg.com

One week after our return to the Netherlands we were selected to take part in a artist in residence in Amsterdam, in which we were interviewed and filmed by the national art and music radio program ‘Opiumop4’. During this week we had the opportunity to develop our projects started in the Bothy. In the following link you can see our process.

http://www.radio4.nl/opiumop4/thema/3/de_toren_kamer/98/lisa-beckers-en-marloes-meijburg

LENA VURMA & THOR KLEIN: Self-Directed Residency, 2015

Thank you Bothy Project! Thanks especially to Rachel & Bobby and Nicole & Matt. Two filmmakers with no electricity going back to the roots of storytelling – what a wonderful & unforgettable time!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — motto of the week
storytelling by the fire

the tale of the tree

JENNY & IAN HUMBERSTONE: Self-Directed Residency, 2015

Crisp frost adorns the crunching heather./ Moonlight brightens, illuminating every patch of frozen ground, every bare branch./ The night sky, above this small shelter, this haven of home, sheltering us from the brisk cold and wailing winds./ A crackling hearth, the warmth of a wood/ fuelled fire, simple comfort and protection from natural elements we are rarely so exposed to./ The River Spey lies beneath us, its roaring crescendo-ing cacophony of continuous water./ Winding its way down from the hills above through this striking and interwoven patchwork landscape/ of tree roots, thawing cold soil, grass and gravel and heather and rock.

In early January we journeyed up to Inshriach Bothy near Aviemore, full of anticipation, excitement and having gingerly readied ourselves for what promised to be a unique experience enveloped by the landscape in a simple shelter in the Highlands. A week removed from the everyday hustle and bustle, the bright lights and city noise. A time to reflect, to be inspired and restored, to regain focus and perspective and dedicate a rarely found straight week to the creative pursuits we both treasure.

Ian is a researcher, artist and musician. I am a landscape architect, photographer and film-maker. Together we have interests in both the auditory and visual senses that combine with other experiential qualities to help define a sense of place.

During our days at Inshriach Bothy we explored this beautiful landscape whilst the weak winter daylight lasted, and found visual senses dominated – views of far flung snow-topped mountains against the horizon, the almost hypnotising circling swirling of the river, frozen rippled puddles along the path and bare branches swaying in the wind. As dusk turned to pitch black inky night, auditory clues took over to translate the world around us – owls hooting from up above our heads, the crunch of footsteps along winding frosty paths, winds wailing, trees creaking, and that occasional unexpected crunch nearby that jolts you alert, filled with dread of what might be out there in the dark – heard but not seen.

You feel vulnerable, blind without a primary visual sense to guide you, auditory cues magnify in intensity, and instead you retreat to the warmth inside the bothy, lighting lanterns and a fire to give warmth. ‘Outside’ transcends from a serene beautiful landscape and becomes a darkened wilderness of unexpected noises that prey on your overly zealous imagination. Until morning. When you re-awake to views of a peaceful serene landscape once more.

Together we made a film exploring this transition in the way we interpret the world around us, the way our experience of place changes as different senses dominate – day to night, visual to auditory, from an instantly visual and explained world in plain sight, to a primal fear induced by auditory cues we either hear or imagine but cannot see or anticipate.

The audio for this film primarily comprises original field recordings taken by Ian at the Inshriach Bothy site and locale (including piano at the Old Bridge Inn) in addition to original compositions responding to the night scenes and outro. Film and photography was recorded entirely on-site by Jenny. The film represents the collaboration of the senses which combine to create the ‘genius loci’ of this unique landscape as this changes from day to night and back to day again.

Whilst at the bothy I became interested in the notion of layering sensory information, which in combination forms a unique perspective in creating a sense of place. This sense of place is always fluid and personal – a landscape and its experiential qualities change not only with time of day, season, meterological conditions, but also with the specific places someone explores and subjective experiences personal to them within that landscape. In the following series of photographic works, I looked specifically at layering different visual information from varying scales in the landscape around Inshriach Bothy – by combining landscape-wide views and detailed abstractions at the closest scales of leaves, textures and macro elements to combine and create a series of snapshots which together help form a visual sense of this beautiful place and landscape.

ELLIS O’CONNOR: Self-Directed Residency, 2017

Window out to the West. I began my journey up to the Isle of Eigg on the 3^rd of January. I went to Eigg to walk, to amble through the wild terrains, to think, to be surrounded by wild weather and to make a brand new body of work made up of photographs, prints, drawings and writings in direct response from the atmosphere and surroundings of the Bothy. The first artist residency of the year and sure enough the wild weather did not disappoint

I intended to think about the layers of the place, the formations textures and the geological immensity and presence/ relevance of it through the dramatic surroundings and changes in the light and colour.

Day 1

The long yet impressive 4 hour ferry Journey from Rum to Muck then finally onto Eigg. Passing staggering mountains and jutting basalt rock formations, misty Isles, peaks hidden in fog and the distinctive alluring shape of Eigg casting a luminous shadow in the distance.

As soon as I approached Eigg a calm washes over me, the endless vast horizon of open sea and open landscapes overwhelm yet open your mind. A relationship back to nature and a realisation already of what I want to achieve and focus on with my mind cleared in a serene place. Arrived at the Bothy at 3pm whilst the midwinter January sun hangs low in the sky. Spent the remaining hours of light acquainting myself within the place, settling in within the confines of the wild place. Reading in the final light, wandering around the surrounding land and writing in the darkened hours.

Realising this is me in my element, a connection to a true place, a real natural horizon, an unwavering sense of what is important and my senses already re tuned to the nature and vast mountainous areas around me. Being here, suspended in time will grow stronger as the days go on. The framing of Rums impressive mountains is already changing every minute, light covers and then uncovers the peaks and details on the land. Fog lifting and recapturing my attention of the place.

I’m home.

Moonlight climbing over the cliffs. Quiet, calm, still. The weight of the darkness that surrounds the bothy. Cradles yet immerses itself around me. Being immersed in the deep deep North West. With the night brings silence.

Day 2

Awakening during the night to see the bright moon, with no light pollution comes sublime real light. Awoke early to the dark ridges right outside the window, what an amazing view to arise to.

Slow morning, started working on my artists books and drawing. Rum is not visible this morning, just white out towards the west no distinction between the sea and the sky.

Went on a steep climb up behind the Bothy, surrounded by burnt colours, bracken, and distinct textures flow around me in drastic comparison to the darkened columnar basalt formations that frame this part of Eigg. Film photographs, exploring and plenty of walking around the area.

More drawing outdoors, preparing paper and drawing outside. Rum appears from out of the fog and the light intently captures me. Forcing myself to sit still and just look at the overwhelming surroundings.

Sit still and be.

An intense heightened feeling of sensing something between me and the landscape. We are all made up of the same rhythms of nature. Getting away from society and civilisation as such to a real place, untouched land, suspended in time. Reading more and more about Eigg and its fascinating history, the folklore and history embedded so deeply into the place, affecting how I see and interact with the Island. Sweeney was a man who was turning into a bird, the relevance of Sweeney’s Bothy and the geological space around it.

Feeling at ease with myself and the place where I am, your mind is re awakened and overwhelmed in places like this that forces you and trains you to not think about anything else other than what matters and being within the place.

Wide horizons – widens mind.

Day 3

Fogginess, the weather bounds me into the Bothy today, relentless hail, gale force winds, and very wild North West weather. A day of reading, writing and drawing surrounded by the dim faded light outside.

Day 4

Awoke to clear skies. Can see the dramatic peaks of mountainous Rum once again. The snow lies on the mountains and the sun is streaming through the clouds.

Taking photos of the surrounding area of the Bothy, the colours are so bright and vivid. As soon as the light changes even for a second, it is almost as though there has been a light switched off and everything turns into a misty grey colour. Everything then becomes dark and brooding. Landscapes altered every second by light.

Started the long walk up to the Tulim part of the Island to study the basalt rock formations and geological forms of the Island. Such a calm and clear day. Lots of abandoned crofts, it’s amazing to think that for such a small Island there is so much history to it. Basalt columns and formations everywhere.

Made it up to the winding path of the Northern tip of the Island. Overwhelming views out to the Skye Cuillin, Canna and Rum, the sea a vivid crystal blue colour, powerful wind surrounds me but a clear day calls to walk.

Jagged cliffs and plateaus that jut out of the sea, scrambled down the terrains and found many bright textured coloured rocks. Walked around the ridges and areas that are very exposed, finding intricate patterns on every part of this land. Treaded softly through the winding path down to the Singing Sands and spent hours walking through the passages of the cliffs and caves. A hail storm cane and went, the low hanging sun streamed back through the clouds and dramatically altered the detail and texture of the patterns that invade this coast line.

Headed back to the Bothy capturing more parts and new ways of seeing the island on the way, everything can look different at any second here. It’s fascinating how well you can connect with the land and see how quick it changes boldly when there is nothing in the form of materialised masses in the way.

The sun already went way down and it’s getting close to dark at 4pm. Want to capture the darkened skies against the mountains and see a different variation of Eigg. I find the same spot that comforts me every, right up the winding path at the back of the Bothy. I go there nearly every day to sit still and look out to the horizon, a calming rhythm that settles in me. Eigg seems to have everything in abundance of geological beauty. Drawing and reading into the late night.

Cocooned in by the darkness outside.

Day 5

Howling winds last night.

Awoke many a time to hail stones and 100 mph winds rushing over my space. There’s something quite calming being sheltered amongst all of it though. Today the weather warnings of more wild weather come and go. Today has the kind of wind that you can barely walk in. Started the day off listening to the noises outside rattling the secure place. No Rum today, no faint glimpse of anything out there, difficult to decipher between the sky and sea when all is so white.

A lot of reading and drawing today looking out the window, sheltered in within the confines of the dim light.

Was invited to the local singing group tonight, went along and we sang Hebridean songs that connect with the land around us. The sky is so clear tonight and on the way home amidst the howling winds, I can see the stars vividly and the huge lightning bolts brighten up the sky. Walking back to the comfort of the Bothy. The small warm beacon against this very dark backdrop. Content and happy to be in this place, working late into the night, looking out to nothing but black.

Day 6

Weather warnings nonstop. The winds and hail batter against me and I realise how wild these Islands can be.

It eased off for a while so I took full advantage of the clear skies and white dusting on the mountain ridges and the ground. Took a long walk along to Laig Bay in the cold still of the morning. The windy sand dunes and then the sun came out as I soon as I arrived. Grey calm sands, Rum completely revealed, small secret cottages hidden down here clinging onto the coast. Walked along the whole bay and revelled in the vivid colours of my surroundings, calm thoughts, sitting on driftwood capturing the sea.

Walked the whole length of the island down to Kildonnan. Grassy meadows, sunlit piercing the lower part of the land, the pier in the distance and the crashing shoreline up ahead. Followed the sheep tracks and white washed cottages to the burial mound and ruined church where I feel completely connected to the history of this place, a lone being amidst this symbolic presence of the important land that has stayed true here without intervention.

I feel on a different level of time here, nature controls everything. I then proceed to walk back and climb the God’s finger ridge, the Jurassic cliffs and oppressing forms surround me.

Chatting to locals of the impressive stories of sea journeys around this Island and challenging yet a beautiful dedication to this place.

The dark came in quick and so I read for a long time into the night. From 4pm here you see nothing but the backdrop of the surrounding ridges and immense shadows of Rum in the distance. Listening to the rumblings from the harsh weather outside, thunder and lightning and high winds. Finding comfort within here and enjoying the wild weather, nature in full force, you feel somewhat disconnected with the business in the city life.

What will come of the rest of the week?

Day 7

A day of uncertainty. I have been told the Ferry will come today which I can go on and leave my residency a day early or take a chance and stay however bad the weather will get.

I choose to stay. I would much rather be here for longer than leave early. I am already settled into Island time.

The whole place is shaking, hail stones rattling everywhere and the wind throws you in every direction. How immense it is and how real it is. On a wild day I choose to visit the caves, Massacre Cave to be precise. A haunting place, a place that is covered in history, yet the weather restrains me from entering as the stormy seas advance in quick. The geological forms of the exposed rocks and shoreline around this area are very impressive, cradled against the unforgiving seas. The ferry comes in and I choose to stay I want to get to know the place further.

I walked through the forest surrounding Galmisdale and headed back up towards Cleadale a stormy walk, the rain battering against me. I work late and tuck myself in waiting for the storms to come.

My natural instincts are thriving here.

The night came in very quickly again and I had my last night in the Bothy with the wildest weather yet and it is the most peaceful I have ever felt. Completely isolated from outside elements, from outside distractions, just a complete focus on my art, my writings, my quiet reflective thoughts and natural alignment with this life. Unware of the outside world and outside time.

The storm is due to get worse overnight yet this heightened exposure to the elements comforts me, a realisation of the true natural land and the way in which we truly are controlled by nature itself. I have been thinking a lot about the ecology of time here upon reading Soil and Soul and reflecting on the way in which we as humans need to come back if only for a while now and then to reflect, to engage with our primal instincts and to only be with the natural world, no connection to manmade materials of technology. It is here where we truly thrive.

Everywhere there is horizons and vast Jurassic basaltic mountainous areas and it is here that is real.

I am on a different level of time here and everything is measured differently. No pressures as it all relies on the weather and outside forces. I will miss the howling winds and the distant sounds of the waterfall in the black light not so far from where I stand.

Day 8 and days 9, 10, 11 – longer than expected.

The day I am due to leave yet I don’t. I don’t end up leaving the Isle of Eigg until the 13^th of January. 4 more days longer than I was supposed to be here. But that’s what happens when you visit an Island in the mid-winter harsh climate of the west of Scotland, you go with the knowing in the back of your head that you can’t predict the weather, it inevitably controls what you do and I enjoy that, it is real that way.

The ferries were cancelled until Tuesday and so I had longer to connect with Eigg and deepen my knowledge of the place and work within it.

I move into the Cleasdale Bothy to make way for Bobby who arrived on the Friday. I spent the last few days on Eigg anticipating when I would leave but not wanting to leave, this Island grabs hold of you when you are here for longer than a few days. A way of life that comes very easily to me.

I’m cut off here from existential matters. When the sun glows on Eigg and the blue crystal waters of the sea light up the surroundings you know you’re in a special place. Do I feel like I’m missing out on things in my ‘otherworld’ back in the business of it all, no I do not. This is my real world too, I have disconnected and reconnected with what matters and what is important.

I have for the next few days another Bothy with four windows which frame every part of the Island I have captured, and connected with. From the front is the lookout to Rum, the framing of the crofting land, to the right of me is the Jurassic cliffs and the ridges, the back window frames the God’s finger look out perfectly with the cascades of the waterfall rising from the wind not falling downwards and to the left I find myself in awe still at the misty framing of the Sgurr, the distinctive form standing defiant in the distance.

I leave on the Tuesday when the weather settles, 11 days on the Island, longer than expected but on the Ferry back over to the mainland I find myself thinking I have to spend longer here. I have connected with this place in a way I have never connected with an Island before, walking all over, learning how to slow down and leave out all existential matters; just be here present in the place and matter.

Against the weather warnings, and the wild west coast, I found comfort and sanctuary within the place, mentally and physically.

I will forever remember that window out to the west.

http://www.ellisoconnor.com/

Ellis O’Connor

LESLEY PUNTON: Self-Directed Residency, 2014

Stilled life with moving trees. I arrived during a week of gales. The Cairngorms are windy at the best of times, yet I’m accustomed to being on the brittle granite plateau where the combination of altitude and the persistence of the wind creates a sub arctic landscape, a place where plants hug the land tightly. However because of the wind’s excessive force and unpredictable cloud level, the snow covered plateau became, in essence, out of bounds.

I found myself walking in the lower areas of the Cairngorms, along the passes, up into the more modest hills adjacent to the plateau, to hidden lochans, and into the forests – Inshriach and Rothiemurchus, generally less familiar territory for me since I usually seek out high places.

The trees became the most dominant part of my experience. Sat in an elevated hollow, surrounded by a wood of silver birch interspersed with dwarf juniper, the bothy is quite protected and sheltered. Unless you know it’s there, or happen to walk close along the trail, you’d probably be oblivious to its very existence. I spent a good deal of time watching the trees and their movement, and listening to their sound, mixed in with the white noise of the River Spey which flowed in spate and flood nearby.

punton inshriach forest — birch, pine, heather, juniper,

I came with a loose idea of some work I could make, thinking that a plan would be wise, but soon abandoned it, and learned to leave preconceived notions well alone, and simply be with the place. Nan Shepherd’s short text, the living mountain guided me well in this sense, (and, struck by it’s notable absence on the bothy’s bookshelves, I popped out to Aviemore to buy a copy to leave as a gift).

The work didn’t come, but the time to think, and reassess aspects of my life and practice did, and I felt the repercussions of the trip perhaps more clearly once I returned home. I needed the time away, the space to be undisturbed by modern distractions such as the compulsion to check email. Technology has become particularly invasive and guilty of imposing a syncopated rhythm to lives that could be led more simply.

As someone who has always loved solitude, I don’t think I’d appreciated how difficult complete solitude really is however, (thank goodness for a battery powered radio playing Radio 4!). Inshriach can be a quiet place, but on reading the bothy book, it’s clear that for most people, residencies here are anything but solitary, and spur on collaboration.

in the summit shelter cairn of Meall a' Bhuachaille — in the summit shelter cairn of Meall a’ Bhuachaille

But the motion of walking is an antidote to too much solitary sitting and thinking, and a journey to the Lochan Uaine, an outrageously bright green lochan nestled amongst the Caledonian pine trees of the Ryvoan Pass, became like a visit to an old, dear friend. Onwards to Ryvoan, and some shelter from the wind for lunch, I made a spur of the moment decision to climb Meall a’ Bhuachaille, and despite ferocious winds which made standing near the summit difficult, the addictive lure of a vista, of expansiveness, and of physical exertion made it worth while.

punton map — map of the Cairngorms and Rothiemurchus

Back in the environs of the bothy, life settles into a regular rhythm.

Wake up, go to the loo (a composting loo a hundred yards from the bothy), light wood stove, place large urn of water on stove to heat, go back to bed and read or listen to radio until bothy warms up, put the kettle on the trangia (I cheated and cooked on a combination of the wood stove and my trusty Trangia 27), have breakfast, shower (deliciously) outside with the water previously heated on the stove, dress, collect wood from the bottom of the hill in rucksack, re-fill the tea urn with water from the Spey, rest of day is for leisure – reading, writing, drawing, walking, eating,.. At nightfall, light candles, last wood on the stove at 6pm(ish) so that the bed platform isn’t too warm later, retire to bed around 9 or 10, …etc.

On my last morning, I wake up to snow, the landscape again transformed. After a hot outdoor shower, with the snow still falling, I pack my things, then make the couple of trips back to the car parked almost a mile down the trail, food supplies diminished, and my load lighter than when I arrived. The weight of the city had also been lifted, and I’m reminded (if I ever really need such a thing) that part of me needs to be in the wild. I anticipate being reunited with my 3 year old son, so the departure isn’t unwelcome in the way it would have been years ago, but the bothy, a perfectly formed small space packed with all the essentials for good living, sends me on my way, nourished, and replete.

punton inshriach sun dog b — a sun dog through the birch trees

For further information This link here takes you to some video documentation of my residency on Vimeo. My website is at http://lesleypunton.com/ and blog at http://lesleypunton.blogspot.co.uk/

With thanks to Walter Micklethwait and everyone at Inshriach, and to Bobby Niven of The Bothy Project

all images L Punton, 2014