Leaving St Kilda
This photogravure etching has great resonance for me.
First, and spookily, this image was taken from the exactly the same place as a plein-air watercolour painting by a friend of mine, sadly now passed, which hangs on a wall at home.
Secondly, it marks the end of three continuous years, when I used to spend time on this remote island.
Finally it references the time in 1930, when the remaining 36 islanders were taken off and delivered to the Scottish mainland. Quite simply, and sadly, life had become increasingly unsustainable as the population has declined from around 200 to the final three dozen.
There is sound archeological evidence that this small achipelago in the north Atlantic, some 100 miles from the mainland, had been continuously inhabited for 3,500 years. One indicator being that the St Kilda house mouse, a distant sub-species, became extinct following the departure in 1930.
Crossing the River Styx
In the west, we read from left to right. Moving from right to left seems unsettling, unnatural. Often, it gives rise to a sense of foreboding.
This early morning shot of the ferry at Dartmouth seems laden with disquiet. More so, given its title, Crossing the River styx.
The ferryman, Charon, delivering souls to the underworld of the ancient Greeks.
A technically tricky print made up of 6 separate plates.
My past is but a shadow
This extraordinary and sculptural old oak standing in a field a few minutes from home has always attracted my attention. Friends and family have often posed for photographs with their faces showing through the hole in the side.
Ive often wondered what history has flowed around it during its existence of many hundreds of years.
However, the title suggests a perspective from the tree itself, and with oblique lighting, the blind embossing references its former glory.
