Corn Moon
Mum, Jock (the Corgie, Jack Russel Cross) and I head up in the car listening to Sibelius first symphony. I was glad I took my coat when we arrived as it was cold fresh wind.
The following day, mum and I walked up Cow Hill next to Fort William and created watercolours looking over to Ben Nevis from a grassy viewpoint. The rain kept coming creating dynamic contrasts as the sun disappeared behind the clouds as well as rainbows. I felt immersed as I walked in the striking low light that day... watching the cascades of hills change around me, touching plants of various textures and colours, the clear reflections on the track, the golden linings, and steep drops.
Mum left and for a while so Jock and I had the caravan to ourselves for a while. Alongside administration tasks, I would often enjoy sitting out on a bench near the caravan, drawing the view looking over Loch Linne to Ardgour capturing the various lights.
Later in the day, I would sometimes draw the same view from the waterfall at the back... a few miles away. I would go on runs around here as well as walking. There were sometimes storms where I would have to sprint back for shelter, afraid I would be exposed to the lightning.
As the sun sunk, I would listen to the musical sounds of the waterfall, streams, wind on trees and plants, animals crying, people and dogs walking past... reminding myself of one of Alan Watts meditations about sound and space and how to lose yourself within a place. I became further immersed in the landscape as I looked through all its layers and articulations, capturing it in my drawings. The landscape would shift to dusk and I would hurry back before I lost my way.
Mum joined for a very cold rainy day and we walked some of the West Highland Way around Cow Hill. I need to buy hand warmers... I then found myself on the train home from Fort William to carry out some teaching preparations, enjoying the Autumnal light.
The film of drawings below are from both research trips...
Hunter's Moon |
New Moon:
I am teaching this day, caught up in the mad rush, but appreciating the students receiving my help. It was wonderful looking back.
8th October
I am weary after teaching and I find myself in the car on my way up North with mum and dad. I am squeezing this trip in before my next teaching block.
Something lifts as we reach the end of Loch Lomond, on the way up to Tyndrum for fish and chips. The chippy interior was busy and had a warm fire that gave me a spark of light. David Hopper's drawings come to mind although this interior is busy.
It brought to mind the pub the family visited earlier that year at Blair Athol (drawing below). We visited this place when the rain was so cold and vile. We went in and there was dark cold grey stonework, authentic objects, paintings, and photos and entrances ignited and warmed by fires and candles. I love interiors and I am particularly fascinated with those that are connected to Scotland at the moment. It is an enjoyable, fascinating contrast to working from the wild exterior landscapes.
Hunters Moon |
In my headphones play James Blake. The land shifts to a comforting melancholic dark blue… The dense trees obscured everything except for occasional glimpses of hills and their tops, the air becoming fresh. I drift in and out of sleep and see the alien lights of cars ahead on the winding road.
9th of October – Hospital Lochen
In the afternoon after a slow morning, mum and I got out in the car down to Hospital Lochen. We sat at a bench inhaling the fresh air and scents. I could see layers of the space, the loch down below. dynamic like a John Casper Fredrich painting, looking majestically over the fall.
The trees and landscape felt so soft like a Brueghel painting for its Autumnal golden wonder. It felt like a rich tapestry, of colour and pattern - interesting irregular geometrical angles. The subtle browns, oranges and greens… and grey... The orangey-brown bracken around us, wild, rough, and intricate when looking closely at the details of their structure. There were layers of hills, the forest lining the hills in diagonal lines where clouds sometimes came... cooler blues, greens and greys.
Curtains of soft rain would come and go, mum didn't like that effect on her watercolours. The land was quite damp, so fresh smells would come and the Autumn colours had a rich warm glow. I loved looking at the water droplets bright in the sunlight against the darker trees, where the branches caught the light they had a soft golden glow. We sometimes saw tiny figures walking down on the path below by the Loch, strolling between the varying trees. I enjoyed that figures to scale look – a little like an Andrew Cranston painting or a Pieter Doig.
We went down to the loch.
I look out to the mountains above the loch and the dreamy, thin pine trees that felt like it was enclosing it into a private, calm, quiet wilderness (minus the annoying drone). The thin pine trees towered above us casting an inky linear pattern in the sky. The needled branches danced softly in the breeze casting damp fragrant scents. The sky was a peaceful cobalt/ cerulean blue with the odd grey cloud with a silver lining. This sky was reflected on the water where I observed a scattered pattern of delicate leaves floating. On the calm surface, I noticed ducks swam by casting a ruptured trail across the water distorting the reflection of the mountain.
Mum and I then saw a frog swimming breaststroke across the water, it looked like a tiny human! We could hear every stroke of the frog break through the quiet it glided leisurely across the water on its recreational evening swim.
We retreated back to the car. The birches had eyes watching us as we went over the sloping meandering, muddy path. We could see every trunk's varying pattern, texture, and story. Glimpses of the loch behind and receding land were sometimes hinted at. We felt small within the dense, alive, darkening forest where falling leaves cascaded and rustled around us.
10th of October – Black Water Damn Walk
We start at Kingloghleven. I encourage my parents to get a coffee with me before the walk started. Mum and I felt visually fascinated by the ice-picking climbers as they hacked their blades in a nightmary way into the surface going against how people are drawn to smooth surfaces in general aesthetics.
We started in the soft woodland. It was beautifully wild, but I was tired. The sounds, splashes of the water from the waterfalls felt alive and at times overpowering. The forest felt occasionally too dense. Thoughts came to mind of a time a few years ago I had to get rescued by the mountain rescue in the Cairngorms…
Mum and I then saw a frog swimming breaststroke across the water, it looked like a tiny human! We could hear every stroke of the frog break through the quiet it glided leisurely across the water on its recreational evening swim.
We retreated back to the car. The birches had eyes watching us as we went over the sloping meandering, muddy path. We could see every trunk's varying pattern, texture, and story. Glimpses of the loch behind and receding land were sometimes hinted at. We felt small within the dense, alive, darkening forest where falling leaves cascaded and rustled around us.
10th of October – Black Water Damn Walk
We start at Kingloghleven. I encourage my parents to get a coffee with me before the walk started. Mum and I felt visually fascinated by the ice-picking climbers as they hacked their blades in a nightmary way into the surface going against how people are drawn to smooth surfaces in general aesthetics.
We started in the soft woodland. It was beautifully wild, but I was tired. The sounds, splashes of the water from the waterfalls felt alive and at times overpowering. The forest felt occasionally too dense. Thoughts came to mind of a time a few years ago I had to get rescued by the mountain rescue in the Cairngorms…
We climbed higher. The path was uneven, over bridges, rivers, uneven rocks… I felt I was looking back at the previous year – unfolding before me with clouds sometimes obscuring. We found an open part where we could sit and eat soggy sandwiches, looking over all the mountains. We traced the roots we had taken previously on the West Highland Way and childhood walks with our dog, Del where she ran off and chased sheep on the mountain face. I created a watercolour here and extended it over two pages to help me find my bearings. It got cold. I witnessed browns against greens where there were softly dancing reeds that wove into the bracken at various angles.
I climbed higher. I have seen a huge variety of fungi this year. A beautiful red and white mushroom at the side of the path, and so many more cute sizes. We could hear the deer rutting, not see them. Mum said grandma used to say they sounded like contrabassoons (my parents are bassoonists) for their deep grunt that echoed over the hills.
To my delight, I observed baby eagles darkly appearing atmospheric.. swooping over the light grey cloudy sky. Looking closely I saw light patches of markings under their wings. They glided in circles, hunting.
I climbed with determination and caught up with my parents, who were on the rugged path ahead of me. They looked so dynamic above me. The path made us feel the endurance, they were small and sloped against the diagonal uneven ground… powering their way up the mountain against the heavy wind and drizzle. The top felt wild. I couldn’t connect to parts of my body, my cheeks felt frozen and my hood battered against my numb face in the wind creating a flapping like noise.
I climbed higher. I have seen a huge variety of fungi this year. A beautiful red and white mushroom at the side of the path, and so many more cute sizes. We could hear the deer rutting, not see them. Mum said grandma used to say they sounded like contrabassoons (my parents are bassoonists) for their deep grunt that echoed over the hills.
To my delight, I observed baby eagles darkly appearing atmospheric.. swooping over the light grey cloudy sky. Looking closely I saw light patches of markings under their wings. They glided in circles, hunting.
I climbed with determination and caught up with my parents, who were on the rugged path ahead of me. They looked so dynamic above me. The path made us feel the endurance, they were small and sloped against the diagonal uneven ground… powering their way up the mountain against the heavy wind and drizzle. The top felt wild. I couldn’t connect to parts of my body, my cheeks felt frozen and my hood battered against my numb face in the wind creating a flapping like noise.
We joined the damn as we walked along the side of a ridge…. A long pipe like a snake or a person's necklace on an uneven surface. It had parts that were overgrown. It brought back memories of Hadrian's Wall. It snaked its way over the landscape reminiscent also of the pipes in Harry Potter’s Chamber of Secrets. Things concealed, trying to keep things underground, but a huge amount of power within the pipes. This accompanied us on the invigorating walk.
Dad’s red coat against the land, mums yellow one. We could always hear the powerful streams around us, so loud like these waterfalls dramatically below to our left. The waterfalls fell in a cascade down the V-shaped valley. To the left behind me, I could see the lake unfolding from Kinlochleven.
The tapestry of colours dominant browns over greens, sometimes greens over browns... The land looked like the wooly bobbles of the sometimes well-washed jumper. Soft, subtle, and tactile.
Patches of light would come out, glorious. It would warm me up completely and made me move and melt from feeling rigid and on guard to soft and accepting of my path.
When I reached the blue reservoir against the brown hills it was quiet and still, except for the fall of water by the bridge that joined the river. When I looked down the river next to the damn pipe, I felt intrigued. I liked how it was not a typical postcard view because of the strange structures contradicting the romantic shedding landscape.
We walked downwards. We could see the whole ribbon loch stretching out, really dreamy and hazy looking. The last time I was here was over three years ago. It was interesting being back, looking over the distance, stretching out like a new chapter of time. The loch looked like a piece of jewelry…an elegant, refined shape… Subtle and shining colour. The water created a refined texture and the cascading hills vividly pushed out, surrounding the loch in various sized lumps.
Dad’s red coat against the land, mums yellow one. We could always hear the powerful streams around us, so loud like these waterfalls dramatically below to our left. The waterfalls fell in a cascade down the V-shaped valley. To the left behind me, I could see the lake unfolding from Kinlochleven.
The tapestry of colours dominant browns over greens, sometimes greens over browns... The land looked like the wooly bobbles of the sometimes well-washed jumper. Soft, subtle, and tactile.
Patches of light would come out, glorious. It would warm me up completely and made me move and melt from feeling rigid and on guard to soft and accepting of my path.
When I reached the blue reservoir against the brown hills it was quiet and still, except for the fall of water by the bridge that joined the river. When I looked down the river next to the damn pipe, I felt intrigued. I liked how it was not a typical postcard view because of the strange structures contradicting the romantic shedding landscape.
We walked downwards. We could see the whole ribbon loch stretching out, really dreamy and hazy looking. The last time I was here was over three years ago. It was interesting being back, looking over the distance, stretching out like a new chapter of time. The loch looked like a piece of jewelry…an elegant, refined shape… Subtle and shining colour. The water created a refined texture and the cascading hills vividly pushed out, surrounding the loch in various sized lumps.
Although layered well, dad left me with his fleece and scarf so I could draw. The sun would pierce through the cold grey clouds forming holy-looking beams of light warm yellow light in vertical diagonals. It would cast spotlights onto the layers of landscape that would gradually change as time passed like an organic daytime nightclub. Upon this peak, I was on a high. I could still see the dark eagles swooping and circulating and the deep, mysterious sounds of the deer rutting.
A thought-provoking variation of edges would form sometimes from the rains. I would love to explore later in the studio paintings. As I looked over my eyes would catch how the hills and shapes of the loch echoed each other in horizontals cross-hatched with verticals of the loch and plants... I tried to capture this in my linear drawings although they were nothing worth showing. I joyously ran down the darkening landscape to catch up with my parents, my legs feeling like jelly.
A thought-provoking variation of edges would form sometimes from the rains. I would love to explore later in the studio paintings. As I looked over my eyes would catch how the hills and shapes of the loch echoed each other in horizontals cross-hatched with verticals of the loch and plants... I tried to capture this in my linear drawings although they were nothing worth showing. I joyously ran down the darkening landscape to catch up with my parents, my legs feeling like jelly.
11th of October – Ardgour Woods, Ardgour Point
Mum and I set out after dad left for Glasgow. It was meant to rain in the afternoon according to BBC weather so we felt rushed to get out. We got on the boat over to Ardgour. I felt excitement rise within as I saw the ferries coming and going as we made out way over Loch Linnhe. The light was flat that day, the water looked grey as well as the sky. The shedding land was flat halftones until the sun came out igniting the rusty warm colours with highlights of gold and redness against the dark bluey shadows.
We sat on the beach to draw the lighthouse. It was late morning and there was some family who lived in the house playing by the beach. I captured this movement in my sketchbook. The lighthouse, reminded me of Hopper's drawings and sketchbook, I felt inspired. I captured it in quick sketches, and I hope in the studio to make some slowed-down studies of it. I could smell and hear the water and choppy waves around me. An army airplane came over, so huge and dark against the lit-up lighthouse reminding me of metaphysics and Graham Sutherland. It roared over me and I felt my body automatically moving rigidly inward to protect myself. I really love looking at the lighthouse and reflecting its purpose, how it casts light.
Mum and I set out after dad left for Glasgow. It was meant to rain in the afternoon according to BBC weather so we felt rushed to get out. We got on the boat over to Ardgour. I felt excitement rise within as I saw the ferries coming and going as we made out way over Loch Linnhe. The light was flat that day, the water looked grey as well as the sky. The shedding land was flat halftones until the sun came out igniting the rusty warm colours with highlights of gold and redness against the dark bluey shadows.
We sat on the beach to draw the lighthouse. It was late morning and there was some family who lived in the house playing by the beach. I captured this movement in my sketchbook. The lighthouse, reminded me of Hopper's drawings and sketchbook, I felt inspired. I captured it in quick sketches, and I hope in the studio to make some slowed-down studies of it. I could smell and hear the water and choppy waves around me. An army airplane came over, so huge and dark against the lit-up lighthouse reminding me of metaphysics and Graham Sutherland. It roared over me and I felt my body automatically moving rigidly inward to protect myself. I really love looking at the lighthouse and reflecting its purpose, how it casts light.
Mum and I went on to the woods. We passed the church which would look really great in a drawing against the trees. It looked rather gothic and aged. Into Ardgour woods we went. It was so quiet here. On our left, through the trees, we could see the Loch. Along the track which stretched out in front of us. It became quieter the further we went from any construction, renovation we were sad to see occurring in the area.
I went on to sketch Ardgour's house. This creepy-looking place we visited last year and felt inspired by. It is secluded in the woods. The trees overlap it with their windy arms. There is blood-red ivy on it. It stands completely alone, a posh front entrance… For some reason, I couldn’t find a composition as it was so hidden by the trees. It draws me in more and more each time. A suspicious man drove to the entrance and gave me a look as I stood there well wrapped up with my sketchbook in my arm.
I went on to sketch Ardgour's house. This creepy-looking place we visited last year and felt inspired by. It is secluded in the woods. The trees overlap it with their windy arms. There is blood-red ivy on it. It stands completely alone, a posh front entrance… For some reason, I couldn’t find a composition as it was so hidden by the trees. It draws me in more and more each time. A suspicious man drove to the entrance and gave me a look as I stood there well wrapped up with my sketchbook in my arm.
A lovely grey pony neighed a greeting as we transitioned from the forrest along to the marshes and salt pans of Ardgour point. To our right, we could see the mountains and sea fifty shades of grey. It looked cold and windswept. The hills are often in a grey mist of rain. Beautiful shapes are slim on the horizon. Grey sea and sky… a lot of wind. We knew the rain was approaching. We didn't meet a soul, the ground was uneven and we had to keep walking... The dark clouds were accumulating but we ate chunky kit-kats and felt good. The beaches were a beautiful receding pattern, the rock pools often picking up the uneven light and dark tones of the light, and the subtle warmth of colour could be seen in the sands that could be a sinking type. The salt pans were interesting shapes… the neighboring sap green grasses appeared fresh against the greys, blues, and warm browns.
We finally reached the outer point. The landmark looked like an (!) Exclamation mark upside down. We saw Canada geese to our right honking! A couple of herons flew by. At this point, I could see past the bridge to Kinlochleven all the way to the right and left down Loch Linne… It was getting cold, resembling darkening inks.
We finally reached the outer point. The landmark looked like an (!) Exclamation mark upside down. We saw Canada geese to our right honking! A couple of herons flew by. At this point, I could see past the bridge to Kinlochleven all the way to the right and left down Loch Linne… It was getting cold, resembling darkening inks.
We walked fast against time back to Ardgour, crossing uneven land, deep streams and the rain started to sink in. We layered up and gradually started to run as we saw the ferry. Inside the comfort of the cabin, I loved seeing the cooling-down landscape. I observed the rain through the man-made orange light that contrasted to the cooling misty greys and blues of the landscape . I could see the water droplets on the window, creating an interesting layer… The shapes of the circular windows too looked like portholes to other dimensions. I could see the white buildings of Ardgour transitioning as a layer through this as well as an elegant white yot.
I am now back in the studio and as well as teaching I am developing these watercolours into paintings, exploring the physiclaity of paint and my memories... Scaling up the work. I am listening to this Autumnal playlist I created (copy link below) as well as Johann Johannsson
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NMdSyVu8KOYL18jIGipVp?si=2c7b6feeebe34e35
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NMdSyVu8KOYL18jIGipVp?si=2c7b6feeebe34e35