Not so wild? – human cultural traces

Summary

Rising above the North Lewis peat land, Stacashal is surrounded by small lochans, long deer grass, and the many long-vacated shielings which lie ruined on its gentle slopes.

With a prominence of 700 ft (213 m), Stacashal is no Munro, but the views from the summit across the moors are impressive, with clear views to Muirneag in the North of the island, and Cailleach na Mòinteach (The Old woman of the Moors) to the South, her elegant form clear on the horizon. From the exposed summit I watched the slow approach of black clouds, and the fragile rays of light which worked their way across the landscape. Soon I would be in the middle of the passing downpour.

Standing beside an ancient chambered burial cairn, I decided to make my images of the moorland, using the points of the compass to help guide my eye over the ever-changing landscape. This work documents the island's heart of gneiss and peat, and was made using the photogravure process, an ongoing exploration of early photographic processes used in Scottish photography. This series in particular owes much to the work of James Craig Annan and is part of a wider series documenting the Outer Hebrides.

These images are based on a journey on foot across the moorland centre of Lewis, from Bragar to Glen Tolsta. The moor feels at its most dangerous when travelling outwith one's own familiar territory, and I incorporated text from some of the more sinister songs of the moorland into this work.

‘Gheall mo leannan dhòmhsa cìr, Gheall e siud dhòmh 's iomadh nì Coinneamh a chumail rium sa frìth Dreiseag mun èireadh a’ ghrian.’ ‘

My love promised me a comb, he promised me that and many things, to meet me in the deer forest, a little before sunrise.’

This is an extract from a fairy song, composed by a girl who was in love with a each-uisge, or water-horse.

‘Air bhi dhòmhsa gu ciùin riut 's mi bhi tionndadh gu dlù riut Bha d’ fhuil chraobhach a’ brùchdadh Tromh d’ lèine.

Bha t’ fhuil chraobhach a’ sileadh ‘Si gun dòigh air a pilleadh 's tu bhi marbh ann an innis Na sprèidhe.’

In this song a man describes turning to his sweetheart to find blood gushing through her shirt, with no way of stopping it: she has been murdered in the pasture of cattle.