Wednesday 30 July 2014


Several years ago Helen and I went to St Kilda. It has long been an ambition to see this haunting and remote island.  Its history of isolation had fascinated us. For many years the island had no regular communication with the Scottish mainland. The archipelago lies 40 miles west of the nearest inhabited island, North Uist, which itself is regarded by mainlanders as a remote off-shore community.

St Kilda had a tragic history. The inhabitants, and there were barely 100, eked out a frugal life living off fish and sea birds. The population was limited by a mysteriously high rate of infant mortality. In 1930 it was decided that for humans at least life on St Kilda was no longer sustainable and the island was evacuated.

Rather than travel in the authentic old-fashioned way, in an open boat under sail, we opted for a week’s holiday on the Hebridean Princess. Sheer extravagance! This bespoke cruise ship, sometimes hired out to the Queen now that she no longer has her own yacht, travels around the islands of Britain and is unmatched as a way to see Britain’s remote beauty in total comfort and style.

We chose a trip that promised a day on St Kilda. We were warned that the Atlantic conditions often prevented passengers landing, but we took the chance. We sailed through the night and when the day dawned it was one of perfect tranquillity. St Kilda was ahead of us bathed in sunshine.

We were able to land and had several hours exploring the street of houses the islanders had abandoned, climbing up the hill behind them to the steep cliffs beyond. We saw the feral sheep and the unique St Kilda wren. One of those days that truly sticks in the mind.

I was reminded of it yesterday when the Hebridean Princess paid a brief visit to Unst. I had heard she was coming and had followed her progress on the marine traffic website. A very useful resource for tracking ships around the world.

From the computer I could anticipate the moment she would appear at the mouth of Baltasound and sure enough, there she was. I drove round to the south site of Baltasound to see her approach the pier and took a photograph, with our house in the distance just above the bow. Fifteen minutes later I emailed the picture to our friends Edwin and Pamela, who we had first met on the Hebridean Princess on that trip to St Kilda.

Saturday 26 July 2014


I have never been sea fishing and I would have no idea how to control a boat or bait a line, but every year I make a point of going to Norwick beach to watch the eela competition.

The eela are the boats and somewhere between a dozen and twenty take part. The rules of the competition are strict. The fishers have to stay within a tightly designated area of sea in the bay and fish with rod and line. They must all stop fishing at the same time and come ashore for the weigh in of the afternoon’s catch. The boat with the heaviest combined basket of fish is a winner, as is the largest individual fish caught. Or so I, as a complete outsider to this sport, understand.

What surprises me every year is just how many fish are caught in these supposedly over-fished waters. They come ashore in dozens and so many different types. Flat fish of varying sizes, mackerel, dog fish, piltocks, cod… heaped up in boxes. The smell of fresh dead fish combines with passing whiffs of whisky and the drifting smoke of a barbecue to create the unique eela smell.

Folk wait on shore for the boats to arrive. Grannies, little children, curious visitors and everyone peers into the boxes to see what has been landed. Just occasionally a fish shows signs of life, it twitches and a child shrieks with surprise.

Today the island has been covered in low thick cloud. It was after six o’clock that I set off for Norwick at the north end of Unst and amazingly the cloud lifted to create perfect conditions for the boats’ homeward run. It was hot and sunny as the boats arrived to be hauled up onto the beach where they were lined up. Bright yellow, deep blue, orange and red – they formed a classic picture postcard scene of the bay with the turquoise sea to one side and a white house in the distance.

Wednesday 23 July 2014


I hear on the local news that David Cameron spent a few hours in Shetland yesterday. He met with  some of the island’s mini-bigwigs, saw a few sites on the mainland and never came near Unst. Supposedly he is the first serving prime minister to come to Shetland since Margaret Thatcher.

I spent years of my life keeping up to date with the news. When a BBC correspondent I attended the daily news conference during which the day’s agenda was set. There was an assumed, yet unwritten, set of BBC news values that we all followed. What made a good story, what should we cover? Much of what later appeared as the news of the day was determined by government PR machines. This was especially true as elections approached. For instance, staged photo opportunities and sound bites were given priority over good, researched reporting. It was easy to gather and predictable.

So David Cameron coming to Shetland became news. Not national perhaps, but local and regional. Not that he did anything of significance or said anything important, he was simply here.

When I am painting or writing here on Unst much of what passes as news in the minds of metropolitan journalists passes me by. I catch up with newspapers on line and sometimes get yesterday’s Daily Telegraph second hand and a day late from my neighbour. I no longer recognise the names of celebrities and when I read the popular press on my computer whole sections of gossip are to me an alien world.

Yet interestingly my empathy with the suffering of the world grows as my knowledge of the ephemeral details of the news diminishes. My ability to spot a phoney story or a hidden agenda has increased in line with my detachment from the feeling that I need to keep up to date.

There was a saying I came across years ago that I rather like. Trying to understand the world by keeping up with the news is like trying to tell the time with a watch that has the hour and minute hands missing and only the second hand working.

Saturday 19 July 2014


The weather is a subject of continuing fascination on an island where the weather changes frequently and unpredictably. Most folk south imagine Shetland is cold and windy all the time. Today the sun is shining brightly and a gentle breeze caresses the land and I have just enjoyed a lunchtime sandwich sitting outside on a garden bench in my shirtsleeves, Just thought I would mention it.

The last couple of days have involved a studio flit. I am moving all my painting gear from the old medical centre at Saxavord to the old RAF admin wing. The new studio space is very similar to the old and the advantage to me in the short-term is that I can leave stuff there over winter.

Longer term, next May to be precise, the space can become an exhibition site and after the successful Unst Modern show that lasted less than two weeks, we, that is glassmaker Cheryl, sculptor Tony, potter Frances and I, can show work there all through the summer.

There’s room for two other artists in the same wing and Tony is thinking of setting up a studio there as well. The limitation is that any artist using the space has to be a dry, rather than wet artist. It is not a place for sloshing things around!

It will be interesting to see how things go. Maybe Unst will get a reputation as the arty place to be.

Wednesday 16 July 2014


At what age does one spend more time looking back than looking forward? Is it not a matter of age, but state of mind? I have been drawing my old age pension now for more than a year and it is not a sign that I should slow down, indeed rather the opposite. I have an extra bit of financial wriggle room to be creative.

My brain is always full of future ideas. I barely finish one project than another is waiting to take flight. It is rewarding to be paid for a work of art, but that is not my motivation. What I enjoy about the creative side of the visual arts is the challenge; once an idea is visualised, the challenge of how to plan it, execute it and complete it. On the way the whole project might change shape due to the serendipity of the process. It can take an entirely new direction – that is exciting. Finally there is the moment of knowing when to stop. Stepping back and knowing that it is good. Looking at it again later, reviewing the work after days or years, I see all the blemishes and faults, but just for a moment, like a mini-version of the God of Genesis on the sixth day of creation, I see it as good.

I was watching a television programme last night on the iplayer. It was an interesting analysis of marketing and consumerism. It was looking at built-in obsolescence – the way many utilitarian objects are given a finite life span so that when they break unnecessarily early, consumers are forced to buy more. The presenter was showing how with many things, the next purchase is made before the old item is broken. It is because we want the latest cool version. As a result, many functional objects have become fashion items, and thousands of consumers find themselves on a retail treadmill.

I watched smugly thinking – how sad, fancy shaping your life around having the latest mobile phone, pair of shoes, designer watch or flat screen tv. But on reflection, maybe I am not that different. Am I not shaping my life around the next big thing in my small world – the next painting, art project whatever it might be? Do I not enjoy the thrill of the new, the satisfaction of others seeing what I have, or rather what I have done?

The only difference between me and the retail zombies I suppose is that I think I am not being manipulated. I choose to make art and I decide for myself what I will do next. The fashion slaves, the sad ones of the shopping malls, are having their minds and choices shaped and controlled by the big corporate players in the capitalist system.

But more fool me for thinking that way. Perhaps I am really the deluded one? Is there any such thing as real choice? Everything we choose is selected from within very narrow confines. The shopper in the mall cannot buy anything that has not already been made, marketed, advertised and put on display by someone else. And my creative mind is every bit as constrained. I am the sum of my life experience, my cultural inheritance and my technical skills. I cannot draw out of my mind what is not already there in some shape or form already.

Unless… in the world of art there can be moments of inspiration. That flash of realisation that something has arrived from somewhere beyond an landed in my imagination that has never had shape or existence on this earth before. They are rare moments, but they are what all artists strive and live for. It is why the next idea is so important, for even if the last project was truly a work of genius, it was only truly inspirational in the first split second of its conception.

Sunday 13 July 2014


Days like today make living through the northern winter worthwhile. If this is the pay off for the rain and gales we experienced in February, all is worthwhile.

First thing this morning there was blue sky, light southerly wind and a blanket of utter tranquillity across the island.

I was up at 7.30 and after a quick breakfast walked down to the pier to enjoy the moment. There were several caravans parked there with curtains drawn. Crews from the yoal races, after a day of tough competitive rowing and a late night at The Revellers concert, were sleeping in.

I am writing this at 1.30 and little outside has changed, just a little light cloud by midday. Whatever time the sleepers eventually roused themselves, no one missed the best of the day.

It is the last day of the exhibition. I am not expecting many visitors as this afternoon is not only ideal for walking and going to the beach, there is also a farmers’ market being held in Baltasound Hall.

Talking to fellow exhibitor Cheryl yesterday evening it seems her puffin glasses have proved popular and she has several orders. Two of my works have found buyers - which justifies the exhibition in monetary terms.

But for me Unst Modern has justified itself in several other ways. More than 200 people have seen the show. There is no point in being an artist in total isolation. If I have an idea and give it shape, then I want to share it. I have enjoyed standing back and listening to folk looking at work. Their comments give a clue as to how they are reacting to what they see. Sometimes someone appears to walk casually past a picture or sculpture without appearing to register a flicker of a response and then, to my complete surprise, writes a pertinent and appreciative comment about the work in the visitors’ book.

I am pleased that Unst Modern has brought four very different artists together in one show and that four contrasting styles complemented each other so well. I had feared initially that work might clash, all that the four artists had in common was that they had produced their work on Unst.  Thankfully there was no jarring; indeed the four very distinct approaches of the four artists blended very successfully. In some curious and unexplained way, Unst, the place, had influenced what each one of us had done and that showed. Consequently, to use a well-worn phrase, I think visitors found that the whole was greater than the sum of the constituent parts.


Friday 11 July 2014



We are coming towards the end of the Unst Fest. The yoal regatta takes place tomorrow and yoals on the back of trailers have been arriving from other parts of Shetland. To those who are not familiar with yoals they are large heavy-duty wooden rowing boats, often beautifully streamlined, combining sturdiness with speed. They are powered by a crew of oarsmen or oarswomen and the races tomorrow will take place in the relatively sheltered waters of Baltasound. I am no expert in the art of yoal racing, but as an onlooker I can confirm that to watch them speeding across the water is an exciting and exhilarating sight.

The exhibition has now been open a week and the visitor numbers increasing day by day. The last three days have averaged between 35 and 40.

Outside London and major cities much contemporary art has a bad reputation. It is dismissed as piles of bricks or unmade beds for which the mega-rich are prepared to pay write huge cheques. Alternatively the world of contemporary art is seen as a racket involving cronies paying each other large sums of public money to make obscure works of remote interest. What compounds contemporary art’s poor reputation is the elite and impenetrable writing that accompanies much of what is shown. Described by some sceptics as ‘arts bollocks’ this indecipherable gobble-de-gook is supposed to add cultural depth, but mostly serves to distance the world of contemporary art from the wider public.

Despite this, the main achievement of the various art movements of the last 100 years has been to show that art can reach beyond its former traditional boundaries. It does not have to represent anything recognisable. It does not have to be paint on canvas or be a figure carved in stone. It can explore ugliness as well as beauty, it can disturb as well as provide pleasure.

There is no clear definition of what art is, but people recognise it when they see it. An object that is able to provoke reaction or evoke an emotion, what ever form it takes, can be art. Great art usually comes from an innovative idea or profound emotion that is given a physical reality by the technical skill of the artist. Great art may then be seen, in the words of the artists Maggi Hambling ‘to inhabit a mysterious place between life and death, simultaneously composed of both’.

If the art work goes no further than being a concept, simply an idea, it remains as an art work in progress. And on the other hand, if it is a perfectly competent representation of a visual cliché is only a technical exercise. It is like a pianist practising scales rather than playing a sonata.

What I hope Unst Modern has shown is that within a small community there is the talent to produce both skilled and meaningful art that can be appreciated and understood by the majority of people who come to see it. Although Unst is a special community, given its island position, I see no reason why other communities cannot do the same. When art is valued within a community, art will naturally emerge from the people living in it and artists from outside will be attracted to the place. 

Monday 7 July 2014

Monday 7th July 2014

A magical and glorious evening on Unst. Clear blue sky, light breeze and glass calm in Baltasound. The island is decorated with Unst Fest flags and coloured streamers from every pole and lamp post. Just returned from the evening of Shetland food at Uyeasound Hall. Reested mutton soup, cold roast lamb, bannocks and homebakes with Valhalla beer to drink. All to the sound of local musicians on stage with a visit from the Viking Jarl Squad.

The exhibition has been a bit slow over the last 2 days, there has been so much competition from the other events of UnstFest. But we are open for the rest of the week 11.30 - 4.30 and several folk have told me they are coming to see UNST MODERN before the week is out.

Saturday 5 July 2014

Unst Art

The most northern contemporary art show in the whole of the British Isles opened yesterday. Not a difficult claim to make here in Unst in Shetland - we have the most northern post office, shop, church, beach, in fact the most northern of almost everything on the most northern inhabited island of the whole UK.

Our show is running over the ten days of the UnstFest (Britain's most northern community festival, by the way) upstairs in the old medical wing of the Saxavord camp. Entrance through Foord's Chocolates (Britain's most northern confectioner not surprisingly).

Four artists - four very different styles - four media - but all the work with one thing in common. It was made on Unst.

Cheryl Jamieson is a glass artist who works in her portacabin next to her home in Uyeasound in the south of the island making amazing things out of flowing, translucent coloured glass. Frances Wilson is a potter and her vitrification of cobweb thin unst lace is astonishing. Tony Humbleyard lives in the old lighthouse shore station right at the north end and makes intriguing abstract sculptures from objects he finds and gathers. Then there's myself Ted Harrison contributing an eclectic range of 2-D ideas ranging from mystery to theology, history to humour.

The first visitor yesterday morning had come from Fair Isle. Not I should add deliberately to see us, but despite having lived in the northern isles for over 40 years it was his first visit to Unst and by chance he  found us.

Opening times are today Saturday 11.30 - 4.30. Sunday 6 and 13 July from 1 - 4 and during next week Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday from 11.30 - 4.30.