Painting — Scottish Seascapes

I recently met a chap who was asking himself the question- “what is the point?” I often wonder the same thing. This can sound like a negative question, however I see it more as a way of evaluating where my energy goes. On my list of things to do I have had the same 3 or 4 tasks sitting there for months. Update website and social media being among them. To me these are tasks that steal my joy, they are neither relational nor creative. I know they are necessary and see them more as an administrative branch to being an artist. Don’t get me wrong, I fully respect and appreciate people who do this stuff for a living.

Falling out of love with technology and being a slave to the algorithms that stroke or squash my ego, has been in my brain space for a while. Playing the game and promoting an image of success is something that I see all over the place. Is this that “toxic positivity” thing I have heard about? Is “fake it till you make it” still out there? I’m not saying we should be slicing an ear off or burning 4000 canvases. Maybe we don’t have to suffer in order to be a legitimate artist. Maybe we don’t have to make out we are Damian Hirst either.

Taking Instagram, I have started to pick apart what on earth the point is. In the real world, you go to work and someone compensates you with money (often nowhere near enough). On Instagram, you put the effort in- creating art work, taking photograph of art work, editing that photo and thinking of magical and wonderful captions that will grab people’s attention. You are then compensated with a small stroke in the form of a tiny heart. Every now and then someone will bother to use actual words or even wish to buy said piece of art. This is the pay off. This is the goal, to win squillions of adoring fans to give their tiny hearts to you (and whoever else) and sell your work. I appreciate I may be oversimplifying things here however, stick with me.

Something else I have noticed is the abundance of “borrowing”. By no means am I Picasso, but I can see where a likeness of my work pops up somewhere else (this includes images and words and ideas). Sure we are all dipping our toe in the same pool, there is no such thing as an original idea these days, right? Maybe not. However when it is as blatant as what I have witnessed, then it leaves a bitter taste. It makes me want to do the equivalent of putting my arm across my spelling test so no one can see. I put the work in after all?

Something I have noticed is that I feel like I am in a race to paint faster, to paint more. There are times where flow state enables the ol’ paintbrushes to work speedily. There is no better feeling than being completely immersed in what you are doing, for me it is often meditative. I am back on the Isle of Lewis with the biting wind wrapping its arms around my cheeks. I have the shushing of the sea pushing and dragging rocks back and forth. This is how I work best. However there are also times where the pressure to keep up with the momentum weighs heavy. If you don’t produce more pictures of stuff then you will become irrelevant and someone will take your artists badge away (because that is a thing, it says you are valid and your degree wasn’t a complete waste of time). Are there benefits to this kind of pressure? I ‘m sure there are. There are artists who draw or paint every single day. They do this out of a curiosity for the world, out of a need to draw out the tangled lines in their head. I respect this. It’s not how I work, but I respect it. Have there been paintings that I have painted out of feeling like I should? Yes. There, I said it. Do I have the ability or stomach to churn them out, feeding the appetites of social media followers? Nah!

So as the good ship of People Pleasing leaves the dock and sails towards integrity and freedom, let me say this- I value you. You’ve made it this far so that should be a given. I will promise to share what I can with you, this will not happen in predictable segments of thrice weekly. It will be when I can manage and when I actually have something I feel your eyeballs should waft across. I hope it lifts or stirs your soul a wee bit. I hope it connects with you. If it does, use your words as well as your tiny hearts. And to anyone else out there who is jumping through the hoops, fling them into the sky like giant Frisbees. You don’t need them. Not really. Your grit and creativity is enough.

Mic drop.

Years ago I facilitated an art group for people with dementia. It was such a privilege and taught me a lot. Working with one lady, I found myself feeling at a bit of a loss. Six weeks went by of me asking then answering my own questions, desperate to have some engagement with her. Then one day, whilst looking through some images she dropped her hand on one and said “that reminds me of Colonsay.” Trying to hide my shock that she could in fact speak, I casually asked when she was on Colonsay. What unfolded over the next few weeks was truly remarkable. This image had tapped into memories that had been untold for years and yet were as crisp as yesterday. Since this day, I have wanted to visit Colonsay.

As the ferry approached the pier, a mysterious sea mist lightly moved over the white houses that welcomed weary travellers. I had in that moment, a knowing that I would like Colonsay.

Heading straight to Kiloran bay that evening, I found that the fog had thickened to something akin to pea soup. It enveloped and disoriented me as I waded ankle deep into the water. The elements are not to be messed with, so I ventured back to the hostel where warm chat was shared and hospitality of existing guests ran into the night.

Over the next four days, I crammed in as much as possible. I tried out paddle boarding, turns out I’m pretty hopeless. My desire to be in the water conflicts with the aim of staying out of the water. I visited some lovely local galleries and of course found the local cake and coffee hang out.

My highlights included a walk across the Strand to Oronsay. Although I didn’t make the walk to the priory, I did find myself a stunning beach. The sun was splitting the sky and I was warm. I’m not good at travelling light and felt like I had been walking for days. I was grateful for the swim to cool me down. The sand was white and blue and lilac swirls of water stretched across the sand between Colonsay and Oronsay. Being a tidal island, I kept an eye on the time but managed a few quick sketches.

Other stand out moments included a wander round the gardens of Colonsay house. I couldn’t help but be totally dazzled at the collection of trees and plants. This one was my favourite- the pink tree!! Pink flaky bark and leaves that looked like every twig was waving hello. I also enjoyed a long walk to Balnahard beach. It probably is not too long in terms of distance however as always, my nemesis – cows, slowed me down, blocking my route. The beach was quite foggy and the light was flat by the time I got there but the journey out and back was lovely in itself. It just gives me another excuse to go back.

I spent a morning fishing with a lovely local who helped me catch that evening’s tea. I must say that I met some cracking people on Colonsay. It made the trip feel particularly special and their kindness and chat warmed my heart. Some trips are all about the quiet moments and some are about the stories. I’m glad of the stories shared, much like the one that instigated my desire to visit Colonsay in the first place.