I often write something at the turn of the year to summarise notable moments in my practice, pop it on social media and move on. While it’s a worthwhile exercise to remind myself of and celebrate certain milestones, every time I’ve begun to write that summary in the last few weeks it has just felt self-congratulatory and, to focus on only the positives, somewhat misleading. 2023 has been a year of huge change, growth and joy in my life, but it has also brought challenges and sadness for us all at times. When looking through my photos from the year, initially to find some which show achievements and proud moments in my work, I found there are images which much better illustrate the notable moments in my year - people.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking deeply about my place in this world, where I might belong, my relationships with nature and with community. These thoughts were the central theme for the body of paintings I worked on in the first half of the year and then exhibited at the Tighnabruaich Gallery in my show ‘Confluence’; exploring the change and development in my sense of connection to people and place since our move to Bute. So, rather than taking you through a timeline of exhibitions and projects I’ve been part of this year, I thought I’d share an excerpt from the accompanying essay for ‘Confluence’ alongside some photos which celebrate the most wonderful people I could ever have hoped to have in my life; my community.
“I’ve walked miles and miles around, across, up and down the island. I’ve seen three seasons, so far, and noticed even tiny changes in the colours, textures, sounds and smells. I’ve learned about the wildlife, sat still as an otter scampered across the rocks, listened for the blackbirds and tawny owls, floated above hermit crabs tussling over empty shells and watched transfixed as gannets elegantly plunged into the water like gleaming white arrows. This is where I believe a sense of belonging can be found… by taking time to really notice and pay attention to the world around us, we build deep relationships with it and care about it’s future. Alongside these deepening connections to nature, I have found an equally nourishing connection to my community here. An inspiring group of people who have embraced, nurtured and held me, and from whom I learn and grow.”
The relationships we’ve built this year have proved to be something quite special. It’s rare to find people who you connect with so quickly and deeply, who are honest and true to what they believe in. (I’ve experienced quite the opposite in the past, believe me, people can be very disappointing.) As a visual person I find it difficult to put into words, so I’ll borrow the song ‘Labouring and resting’ by Karine Polwart and Pippa Murphy to explain how this small community makes me feel. You can listen to it here, Karine uses the observation of migrating geese to encourage us to consider how we humans interact and depend on and support each other to move though life…
“The outstretched wingtips of each migrating goose create an upwash, a pocket of wind resistance for the bird tucked in behind and below. These neuks of ease, these aerodynamic sanctuaries, cut the drag by up to 65%. It’s a wonder, and it’s also a gale-bitten struggle to sustain cooperation. Every goose takes a turn. Stepping up, falling back, labouring and resting.”
It has been an amazing year in lots of ways. At times I’ve felt almost euphoric, you just need to have a look at my instagram to see that; walking through the forest in spring or stepping into the sea after a long day painting in summer. However, this is not the stereotypical Scottish island idyll - that doesn’t exist I’m afraid - and no matter where you move to you can’t leave all the rubbish bits behind. I’ve lived with varying degrees of anxiety for a very long time and in late autumn, just as we were embarking on some travelling, I was hit by the worst period of anxiety I’ve ever had. This has meant that I’ve not been able to do much of the development work I had planned for winter. This has been frustrating, but I’ve had great support from everyone around me and from the NHS so I’m pleased to be feeling an awful lot better now. It’s been a tough realisation that people/situations can still trigger periodic anxiety in me, but a much more valuable realisation is that I’m now a member of a truly supportive flock of geese just waiting to step up and provide each other a pocket of wind resistance.
As always these experiences, realisations, thoughts and feelings, good and bad, ultimately feed my creative soul. It’s often said that creative people feel things much more deeply, which is great when those things are beautiful and positive, not so great when it’s the opposite - but I wouldn’t change it.
Lots of lovely things to come this year, exhibitions, projects and developments.
I’m stepping into 2024 gently but with intention.
