Caledonian Return

As I write this I am heading south from the highlands of Scotland, approaching the border with England. The two weeks which I have spent at the foot of Ben Nevis have gone incredibly quickly. My project for the residency was to create a suite of poems responding to place, in this case Glen Nevis and Ben Nevis.

Due to mobility issues, I was only able to visit the Outlandia studio tree house once. It’s location high above the campsite where I was based, was hidden from view yet became the persona of a performative space enlivened through other people’s experiences there.

I found myself captivated by the stories of the Jacobite rebels who hid in caves and sheltered in the Glen, the stories of hardy survival in a harsh environment. These seemed to be embodied in the Caledonian pine tree, Pinus sylvestris the national tree of Scotland.

For me it represents all that is Scottish in the diaspora of far flung families, mine included. After several weeks in the highlands, I felt the tug and pull of my DNA, my ancestors' voices in the wind, calling. My poems became explorations of place, memory and identity.

I started making videos, thinking of the poem as I drew, then reading the poem as a voice over. One of these Caledonian Return, is about my family tree. I had brought one of my father’s road maps of Scotland with me, and thought to glue it on the back of a Scot’s oats box (we eat a lot of porridge and muesli for breakfast). It made such a solid backing I decided to try drawing a Caledonian pine tree on it. With much encouragement from fellow student Liz, I became a little bolder and used her willow stick charcoal and conte pencil. I was quite pleased with the result!

I also wrote a poem responding to Liz’s drawings she made while sitting in the Outlandia studio. She in turn created a video of herself reading the poem I wrote for her. It was a wonderful collaboration and something I would like to pursue further in my own arts practice.

It’s bitter sweet saying goodbye to Scotland. This is my third time I have been here but the first time visiting in summer when the hills are literally pink and mauve with the heather that I was named after.

Tomorrow we will be returning to Mansfield, Nottinghamshire to sell our beloved Figaro motorhome. It is time to part ways so that we can begin new adventures on plane, train, bus and ferry as we head over to Ireland, Germany and then back to Cornwall to start my next residency as I continue on with my MA Arts & Place program.

I like to think my Scottish ancestors are bidding me a benevolent adieu with a hasten thee back soon….

Glue station on the table in the motorhome where I have spent the past two weeks writing, drawing and stitching as part of my contemporary remote artist residency in Scotland.