Gannets fishing

Gannets fishing, screenprint, ed. of 4

The Easter holidays are here, and in the next few weeks everyone will be putting their boats back in the water after the winter. Here on the west coast of Scotland, we are sheltered from the full force of the Atlantic by the scattered islands of the Hebrides. Even a small rowing boat can go out into the Sound of Jura in search of mackerel. As we haul on our lines, we enjoy watching the gannets, who are also fishing for their supper.

Wild Argyll

There is such a variety of landscape in Argyll. From the hill above our village we can look inland over long sea-lochs, oak-clad hillsides and high mountains. In the other direction, the intricate coastline is scattered with rocky islets and sandy beaches. Out to the west, the open sea is sheltered by the larger islands of the inner Hebrides.

Recently we made a 3 minute video to publicise this landscape for the Heart of Argyll Tourism Alliance. You can find it by looking for "Inspired by the Heart of Argyll - YouTube".

While making the video we put out lobster pots and caught this beautiful animal. It really did seem like a creature from another world. As the video shows, in Argyll there's always something new to provide inspiration.

Lobster, screen print, ed. of 25

Corncrake Chess

Screenprint made in the studio - edition of 4.

Black and white players are moving across the flat chequerboard of fields on Oronsay. They are pawns in a large-as-life game of biodiversity, played out on the land. The Barnacle Geese look out of place on these fields. The black and white markings which camouflage them against the rocky screes of their nesting cliffs in Greenland look incongruous here.  They are seeking refuge from the frozen weather of the North and, alongside the black Hebridean Sheep, they are grazing the winter grass short.
It may be the RSPB who are controlling the game by offering rich, undisturbed grazing on the in-by fields, but on this island at least, it is the wildlife who are the winners. Once the geese have been cleared from the board by the southerly winds of spring, the star players will move in. The clues are to be seen around the winter field margins. The woody remains of knapweed, cow parsely, dock and nettle show how the game will develop. The vegetation will grow in the Spring sunshine to provide cover for Corncrakes as they return from sub-Saharan Africa to breed. These are the kings and queens of the island. With the field cleared by the winter workers, new growth will be open, allowing these shy  rails to pass easily through it.
Corncrakes have disappeared from most of mainland Britain, and so management here concentrates on sustaining these birds, the vulnerable key pieces of the chess board. They may have reached check-mate elsewhere, but with 24 calling males in these few fields, the game is still on.

Sketch made in the field.

Winter Starlings

Screenprint made in the studio, edition of 6.

The first job of a winter's morning on Oronsay is to put out silage as extra food for the cows. There's not a lot a nutrient left in the gale-battered fields, as there's been no strength in the sun for months. Normally a bale-shredder chops and spreads the silage, but when the machine breaks down, the RSPB volunteers have to set to and fork out two massive bales by hand. Nathalie, the assistant warden, looks skinny, but she's much stronger than I am. Her golden hair flies in the wind, the same colour as the silage. I point out this artistic detail to her, but strangely I don't think she's flattered by the comparison.
The spread line of silage avoids jostling, so that even the younger beasts can get to the food. Their feet poach up the ground, knocking out bracken shoots, and allowing any wildflower seeds from the silage to germinate. That's if there are any seeds left over. A flock of starlings descend, squawking and squabbling over the food. Its not just the cows who are being sustained through the winter months.

Sketch made in the field.

Border skirmish

I've been screenprinting using drawings of Ringed Plovers from last year. I made my sketches last Spring as I was waiting for eider ducks to come ashore on Oronsay. As I watched the beach I was aware of an urgent, insistent calling. I picked out three Ringed Plovers, camouflaged amongst the seaweed, but none of them were moving their bills. They were spread out strategically across the beach like mini masked marauders, but if this was a border skirmish, there should have been a fourth bird. After twenty minutes of scanning I was beginning to think the plovers were ventriloquists. Every time I started to draw, the noise would start up again, but the tiny bandits continued their border patrol with beaks closed.

Sketch made in the field

Eventually, almost under my nose, I spotted it. The fourth bird was digging a nest scrape, chest on the ground and legs whirring away, flinging out sand and pebbles behind it. And every time it did so it called frantically. As its mate approached, it fanned its tail and postured. The female looked unimpressed. With a flurry of piping the male goose-stepped alongside her, more militia than marauder. As his calling reached a crescendo he seemed to convince himself, or maybe her, and fluttered onto her back to mate.

Screenprint made in the studio, edition of 5.

At the Kelvingrove Museum

What a great museum! The Kelvingrove in Glasgow is an impressive victorian building which has been beautifully maintained and filled with an exciting variety of art, artefacts and natural history. I really enjoyed looking around it, once I finished hanging our FAME exhibition in the Scottish Natural History section.




Artists Tim Wootton, Howard Towll, Rhian Field, Sandy Grant, Ruth Carruthers and myself collaborated with the RSPB to publicise the work of scientists from the "Future of Atlantic Marine Environment" project. They are finding out where seabirds go to feed, so that Government can legislate to protect these areas.




Each artist contributed two pictures. This screenprint of a shag defending its nest I finished last week in the studio, using sketches from Colonsay.




This painting of kittiwakes was made at the seabird cliffs in May. The studio work is more controlled, whilst the field work has to be produced at speed. It started raining as I was finishing this picture, and I like the texture on the cliffs made by raindrops falling on the page.

All the pictures in the exhibition will be auctioned by the RSPB later in the year.

Seabird screenprints

In May I again visited the crowded seabird cliffs of Colonsay. An overwhelming number of birds were all pursuing the business of life and survival; choosing a mate, building a nest, finding enough food to raise young. We find these tasks challenging enough ourselves, but we have the help of weather forecasts, GPS and shelter from the elements (not to mention internet dating). How do these birds raise a chick perched on a cliff-face exposed to the Atlantic, and how can they find suitable food in that seemingly featureless expanse of water?

As fulmars wheeled above me, guillemots squabbled and jostled on ledges next to me, and the calls of kittiwakes shrieked up from the gullies below, I clung on to the cliff-face. As an artist I was supposed to be making some sense of this chaos on paper, but my paints were still in my bag. 

 That’s when I met Ellie and Tessa, scientists from the RSPB FAME project. They were studying individual birds to uncover some of the mysteries of seabird survival. When they showed me their results, my amazement increased. How could a bird as delicate as a kittiwake travel so far across the waves? How could a bird as small as a razorbill dive so deep below them? 

The FAME girls and I decided to work together. We invited other artists to join us in an exhibition at the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow, aiming to share a little of the magic of a seabird colony . By combining art and science we hope to offer a glimpse into that extraordinary world, and unravel some of its mysteries. The exhibition is called "Sea Art Differently" and runs from 13th to 21st October 2012.