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.

RYAN ARTHURS: Self-Directed Residency, 2016

Strata. “The island is pervaded by a subtle spiritual atmosphere./ It is as strange to the mind as it is to the eye. / Old songs and traditions are the spiritual analogues / of old castles and burying-places and old songs / and traditions you have in abundance. / There is a smell of the sea in the/ material air / and there is a ghostly something in the air of the imagination… / You breathe again the air of old story-books.” -Alexander Smith, ‘A Summer in Skye’, 1885

Outside of Massacre Cave on the Isle of Eigg, I refreshed my iPhone and read about the tragedy that occurred immediately in front of me. There was a longstanding clan feud that ended when a raiding party found the entire town hiding in the cave. They started a fire at the entrance and asphyxiated roughly three-hundred and ninety villagers who hid inside.

Mistaken Point, Newfoundland, 2016 (left) | Cathedral Cave, Isle of Eigg, 2016 (right)

For the past year I have been photographing thresholds. On Newfoundland Island; Cape Breton, Nova Scotia; and the Isles of Skye and Eigg, Scotland. I have recorded remote, outport communities that, in the modern age of globalization, remain isolated. These islands are situated between worlds, both geographically and metaphorically. They’ve come to embody the old and the new—spaces where time collapses, where past and present collide.

Fishing Stage, New World Island, Newfoundland, 2016 (left) | Sea Cave, Burnt Cove Ecological Reserve, Newfoundland, 2016 (right)

These spaces share the quality of liminality: they occupy positions at boundaries and borders; their dimensions include physical, temporal, and spiritual registers. They are property lines, rivers and bogs, lochs and ponds. Some have obvious boundaries and borders, while others are transitional and ambiguous.

Drying Cod, Cape Norman, Newfoundland, 2016 (left) | Low Tide, Isle of Eigg, 2016 (right)

On the threshold of a cave, I can sense an ancient past. “Old songs and traditions are the spiritual analogues / of old castles and burying-places.” The opposite must also be true. Caves’ rocky recesses trapped the heat of our fires. They served as our earliest shelters, our first stages, and the soot-blackened walls provided us with our first artistic canvas to depict the world around us.

Residence, Advocate Harbour, Nova Scotia, 2015 (left) | Tally Marks, Rocky Harbour, Newfoundland, 2015 (right)

Liminal spaces disorient us. While we recognize some of these locations for their features, we sense others as a feeling, a sort of thin veil between our world and the next. We experience these feelings in isolated or remote places that instill us with fear and the sense that we aren’t welcome. These feelings are often heightened at certain times: dusk and dawn, under the glow of a full moon, or other celestial events, or during certain holidays, particularly Halloween. Liminality is a key concept in supernatural thinking, liminal times and spaces often serve as settings for supernatural occurrences in storytelling.

Motorcycle, Isle of Skye, 2016 (left) | Two Horses, Isle of Skye, 2016 (right)

Storytelling arises out of an experience of disorientation. It seeks to explain what we cannot rationalize or understand. In a time where satellites orbiting the planet can triangulate our physical location in seconds, the experience of disorientation is more distant. My ongoing body of work explores some of the ancient sites that connect us to the past via the strange folklores, myths and legends that have been passed down. I distill history into visual elements, photographing to prompt future stories. The role of the historian or storyteller is to piece together the fragments she has, and spin them into a narrative. While I have arranged my images, my work asks the viewer to become the storyteller himself.

Sgurr na Banachdaich, Isle of Skye, 2016

Stories relating to these liminal spaces have accumulated over thousands of years. Information packs into layers of sediment; the mineral strata describe millennia. As the most permanent surface in the natural world, rock formations carry etchings, paint, and the wear of thousands of footsteps. To the trained eye, rock faces read like sentences and paragraphs. The landscape reveals its history.

Ying Yang Wolf, Mallaig, 2016 (left) | Sandstone, Isle of Eigg, 2016 (right)

The accumulation and superposition of narratives and culture is not a seamless process. North America—where I grew up—hosts a strange and troubled convergence of societies. The people who moved here in the past 500 years have almost completely covered those who first arrived over 13,000 years ago. Indigenous Americans tell stories of creation and origin; people of European descent tell stories of exodus. Two separate histories cohabitate the same spaces.

Burning Pallets, Portree, Isle of Skye, 2016

On a planet of constant change, thresholds are inevitable. Through my work, I hope to understand and record these transitional spaces, to return to the viewer a sense of liminality, history, and disorientation, and, in the process, reopen the door to storytelling.

Ryan Arthurs was the artist in residence at Sweeney’s Bothy in September 2016. www.ryanarthurs.com

SUZANNE DERY & AMY CLAIRE HUESTIS: Self-Directed Residency, 2016

Lichen/ Arrow Rainbow/ River Wood Axe/ Green Blue Orange/ Yellow Crystal Moon Cloud/ Light Picture Fire Cauldron/ Sauna Water Dishes Matches/ Toilet Paper Pee Moss Trees Heather/ Witches Juniper berries Stars Mountains

RAINBOW WALK

We see the rainbow ahead, then in the landscape

through striations and wondrous gradations.

Green always the constant neutral tone.

Soft green of moss, green so alive in trees,

plants, green green emerald lovely green

is the colour of Sue’s hair in the other

world. A fuzz of emerald green surrounds her head,

her hair like glorious green wool.

Her cloak is green, and she is the colour

of living things.

The secret world of the maker unseen, unrevealed. Reflections in the pond and waters symmetry, as what is above is below. Is the bothy a space that holds many secret worlds of makers inside?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — The secret world of the maker unseen, unrevealed. Reflections in the pond and waters symmetry, as what is above is below. Is the bothy a space that holds many secret worlds of makers inside?

Gathering things, looking, noticing, gathering images, looking through glass. One looks through the coloured glass and afterward the head glows, A vibrant sensation. BLUE GLASS makes a Romantic image BLUE AND ORANGE GLASS even more so, moody , dark, twilight. ORANGE GLASS on green hill and water With white sky, dazzling gradation of colour. — Gathering things, looking, noticing,
gathering images, looking through glass.
One looks through the coloured glass and afterward the head glows,
A vibrant sensation.
BLUE GLASS makes a Romantic image
BLUE AND ORANGE GLASS even more so,
moody , dark, twilight.
ORANGE GLASS on green hill and water
With white sky, dazzling gradation of colour.

Right now I am thinking of

how I enjoy the silence

of our working time.

Each at ‘our’ desks.

Yes, I know this dark colour (glass + landscape) resembles the German Romantics, and oh cast on a ruin, one sees a historical impulse, though. But overriding this is the glue and definition of new things, a magical practice, a transformative practice. Simple coloured glass, so beautiful and pure, transforms the landscape. Pictures appear -- mind-pictures, captured pictures. — Yes, I know this dark colour (glass + landscape)
resembles the German Romantics,
and oh cast on a ruin, one sees a historical impulse, though.
But overriding this is the glue
and definition of new things,
a magical practice, a transformative practice.
Simple coloured glass, so beautiful and pure,
transforms the landscape.
Pictures appear — mind-pictures, captured pictures.

The only sounds

are scratching, movements

of making and the rain,

fire breath and wind.

The sun comes and goes

and the light of day guides

work time

and brings inspiration,

energy, imagination

and enchantment.

I will work with reflection

and form. As I finish

writing for now,

I look out

through the window to my

right

Our shrine for Venus

sits on a mound surrounded

by heather and grass

and the sun is shining on her.

The window sill holds crystals

of coloured glass and sheets

of these colours: indigo, yellow,

orange and light rose.

Moon shape, moon companion, appearing Always at the right moment coming going. Bright bodies of naked witches making Moon shadows, worshiping moon.

The sky cleared and the stars shimmered millions, gazillions, clusters, constellations speaking. Later on the moon came back so bright, so intense behind the veiny trees on the low horizon. — The sky cleared and the stars
shimmered
millions, gazillions,
clusters, constellations speaking.
Later on the moon came back
so bright, so intense behind
the veiny trees on the low horizon.

Gathering lichen for a slide.

Maybe we

will be

lucky

And see the stag’s horns

or trees

or sea creatures

moss

birds

tiny kingdoms.

When the slide is

out in front of the lenses.

Something will be revealed

Something of wonder.

Thinking of last night…

We set up the magic lanterns

with our oil lamps, it took

Some fussing around to get

The distances right, the right wall

Space for our lighted work.

It was dark, working by candle

light, but agreed this is a

wonderful, natural way to live

and with time as it is

As medium, material, substance.

There seems much synchronicity

happening,

every moment

intertwined to bring good

things.

Our slides projected in the

hut on the wall space over

the bench in the kitchen

showed us the magic we

were making, a part of

and encountering. The

Candlelight, lamplight, firelight, starlight. Learning the gentle way of night with no electricity, The soothing time. Night for me is usually the time of anxiety, Fears creep in. Here it is fun! Transitions between moon-light, Snow-light, candle-light. (Candle)

candle light was dim,

filled with warmth and good

energy…dancing with us.

Circles, triangles, crystals,

colours, drawings came to life!

Reflections multiplied as did

the forms. Geometry speaks

and informs itself and us.

Secret practices — how much will remain

secret from this place?

How much will we tell to others?

How much have we revealed to each other?

Each day, I spend hours admiring Sue and her ways,

her strength, humour, voice.

Circles, triangles, crystals,

colours, drawings came to life!

Reflections multiplied as did

the forms. Geometry speaks

and informs itself and us.

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!

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.