Welcome to my wee corner of Substack. I am a seasonal artist living on the Isle of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland. I am the custodian of approximately two acres of land that includes a woodland, a meadow and my wee garden. I offer a seasonal book arts project for paid subscribers if you are interested and you can read more about that HERE. Grab a cuppa and lets delve into our relationship with the shifting seasons…
Let’s just begin by setting my stall out! As I age I find I do people less and less. A lifetime of teaching has, perhaps, left me a little bit depleted in the people skills department and, more and more, I seek pathways that take me away from other people. Of course, I do have exceptions to this including my family, friends and my beloved Patreon community. However, on a daily basis in the summer you will either find me spending quiet days at home and in my garden or you won’t find me at all!
I live on a small Scottish island that simply explodes with people during July and August and this invasion of people is already underway as I write. Most folk on the island see this is an essential element to island life that has an economy that depends on tourism and I understand that completely. My work world is now entirely online so I am not so dependent on the piles of folk emerging from the ferry as it arrives in port.
This summer I have a secret weapon in the shape of my beloved studio van, Willow. She is busy getting lost with me and my beautiful dog, Frank. The three of us are up early and away while folk are seeking the nearest cafe to have breakfast in. Knowledge is power and I know the island I call home very well so I know where to escape to. I know the places I can inhabit and rarely see another soul. During spring this year, Willow found all the best parking places on the island where it is quiet enough to work from so I am now making more and more of my work in and around the van. This is excellent as she also makes a fabulous cup of coffee.
As the days unfold the beaches fill and the well trodden pathways within the island chime with the sound of walking boots. My boots head in a different direction to the pathways few walk along to find the quiet corners no-one understands. It is true to say that sometimes I wander so long that I get a wee bit lost but, fear not, Frank can always find our way back to Willow. By getting lost though the sounds of the island seem so much louder. The bird song, the wind in the trees and the busy bees all make for the very best of soundscapes. Over time I have become allergic to the sound of banging car doors, endless chatter and excitement and sounds that tell me others are approaching.
I realise that this is completely antisocial of me but I have spent the last 60 years being very social so I feel I have done my bit on that score. This slight obsession with getting lost in the summer is also seasonally driven as I am not a sun worshipper and, believe it or not, we do get a fair bit on our Scottish island. The forests are my places in the summer where the coolness comforts me and allows my brain to work better. I extend my moments of watching and waiting and capture those sitting on an, often, damp tree stump deep within the forests while Frank looks for yet another stick for me to throw.
Willow has enabled me to stumble back to her and pop the kettle on before settling down to take these small sketches and create something more interesting with them. As Frank sleeps I paint or make yet another handmade book. This near seemless link between the forest and my studio van has shifted my work into a new space. It is a space that is far more about me than any other space before it. I am a mother of four who home schooled her children while working as a creative in the small hours between these commitments. Now I am just me, Frank and Willow and we are lost in the forest. Don’t come and find us…..
Fiona xx
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