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  • projecteigg.info launched

    by Alexander Stevenson 1 Feb 2010

    Just a note to draw your attention to the recent launch of projecteigg.info

    The culmination of the residency last summer on the Isle of Eigg in the Scottish Small Isles- the unusual website includes two audio walking guides created following interviews with the Eiggach (islanders), as well as documentation of the residency activities and related artworks created before, during, and after 2009.

    Download your own copy of the guides (it’s free) to listen to on the move, wherever you are!

    www.projecteigg.info

    Regards
    Alex

    Project Eigg was kindly supported by The Isle of Eigg Trust, The Isle of Eigg History Society, The Highland Tourism Development Fund, and Scottish Arts Council.

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  • Revitalise the horns!

    by Alexander Stevenson 4 Sep 2009

    The Project Eigg residency period is over. I am back in Glasgow having had a hectic week or so of wrapping things up on the island, and now I am examining almost a thousand images of documentation and new work. I will now spend a couple of months composing the audio walking guide and the website that will house it. I would very much like to show images of the mumming play by the children of Eigg, but I am still waiting for permissions at this time. As soon as I have them, I will post them up.

    Last week was a miserably rainy period, but having had my photographer back only since the 22nd of August, I still had to arrange the photographs of myself in the landscape searching for the horn-less ram “Macbeth”. It was interesting that the search quickly took on the feeling of a cumulative process. Where the series of events each contributed something to the artefact I carried; a large pair of horns from a dead ram. I found myself being influenced by the landscape, the rocks, trees and lochan. I had to reinvigorate these relics of potency both with life and masculine vitality. The ever prominent Ann Sgurr the “jetty”, the “saw-tooth”, the “notch” that perhaps gives Eigg its Gaelic name; seemed like the most natural, immense, and potent presence on the island. Having photographed in the pouring rain, and waded knee deep in boggy marshes we decided that the images were being ruined by droplets on the lens and so I focused on applying the stickers I had made for the swap shop.

    The icons came out extremely well as vinyl stickers, and I was able to secrete over a thousand of them onto the items in such a way that they would not be immediately visible, and would not get in the way of the normal running of the swap shop. I hope to see some of the objects over the years to come, perhaps in a thrift shop in Europe.

    At the end of the week, and with so little time left to make new work, we were amazed to wake up to rays of sunshine. Knowing it would be short-lived we bolted up the steep track-ways to the base of the Sgurr, improvising the shots as we went. It had not been my orriginal intention to do so- but the Sgurr quickly became a benevolent force and I held the horns up and they naturally came to rest as if the mountain crest wore them as its own. We climbed higher and higher and I stood at the base of pitch stone with my eyes closed and the horns raised like some ancient priest (or a Christopher Lee fan I suppose!) and as I did so the weather turned on us. Ann Sgurr had perhaps been taunted enough. We waited out the storm in a nook for while before attempting to climb up to the summit. But the wind had picked up and as we stood no more that a few hundred yards from our goal, the gusts threatened to sweep us to our deaths so violently, that we conceded defeat to the sleeping deity and returned to the cottage.
    The next day, the last official day of the residency, we went in search of Macbeth in earnest. A chance sighting the morning before placed him somewhere near the forestry shed where the ‘whiskey bottle cloak’ lived.
    When we found him he had been penned in with two sheep in a relatively small enclosure; perhaps he was not so lacking in potency after all? I felt I had come too far though to ask about such small details, and I held aloft the crown of horns to Ann Sgurr, and offered it to Macbeth. His snake-like yellow eyes blinked at us unconcerned, and he found a comfortable place to snooze a little way off. I had heard that there were laws about ‘sheep-bothering’, and that a few hundred years ago one could be interned, mutilated, or even killed for doing so. I am pretty sure though that the term “bothering” once took on a more sinister meaning and the most bothersome thing I intended to do was place a belt around a ram’s neck and give it’s woolly ears a good scratch. Thus with trepidation I stepped into the field and approached my neophyte ram. Macbeth stirred and rose to meet me, sniffed the horns with interest, so I turned them around and made to put them over his head. Joy! That the ram would once again be revitalised with this symbol of masculine power and imbued with the potency of the landscape through which I had taken it. Macbeth sniffed them again, turned and headed off at a trot, showing me his soiled testicles.

    By way of simulating the crowned ram I stood away from Macbeth and held the horns level with him, crowning him in the same manner as I had done with the mountain beyond.

    Though I don’t feel ready to summarise my overall experience of the past six weeks, I do feel elated at having achieved so much, in such a short period of time, and at having challenged my practice so thoroughly. There is huge scope to create a touring presentation of the project, an academic report for an art journal, and perhaps an exhibition of photographs, prints, and artefacts early next year. There is also scope to create new work inspired and transformed from the activities that took place on Eigg.

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  • In Search of Macbeth.

    by Alexander Stevenson 26 Aug 2009

    The ram born without any horns, that one of the volunteers rather sweetly named Macbeth and who I visualised in a recent image wearing prosthetic horns; has vanished from his familiar field.
    The name Macbeth seemed to suit the curious creature, who seemed dumb and gentle and had no fight in him, with no interest in the other sheep, appearing quite impotent despite packing a sizeable lunch box!
    What greater symbol of potency could one create than to give a ram back his horns, his personal symbol of masculine power?
    I am currently creating a prosthetic set of horns for the creature using a pair left discarded, and an old belt. The visualisation I added to the photos here looks extremely sexually aggressive, possibly even a bit bondage. Thus I am going for something quite simple in the real, with the chance that they will simply droop to one-side, or impotently drag along the ground. But Macbeth is missing! Thus I intend to search the island with my prosthetic horns slung across my chest, find the beast and crown him in ritual, re-imbuing him with all of his lost power!

    There is only a week left now of this island residency, and I am feeling a sense of the draw-strings pulling closed. The interviews have all been incredibly revealing, allowing light onto a delicate set of debates into tourism, labelling, development and change to everyday life. Even the Kids during the pub-mumming play that I did with them this week had lots to say about labelling and new buildings.
    But it is identity and an annoyance at being “anthropologized” by so many visiting researchers that has been the main themes raised by anyone in random conversation. And the latter certainly seems to be the reason that more than half the islanders never came forward to speak to me, or could not be coaxed into talking about the island as a whole. Perhaps it is a West
    Island attitude; but people have been unwilling to talk in a way that they might be seen to represent more than themselves, and sometimes even just to have an opinion “captured” irreversibly that they might be presented as thinking to others. I suppose small communities everywhere survive by being so withdrawn about how they really feel about their community, because of the risk of offending people that you are crammed so close together with. It’s a shame because I was not interviewing to make judgements, but to make artworks that were relevant to and actively engaged residents. I could only do that by asking their opinions, and it is interesting how often even that was denied. I am looking forward to creating the guide, it should be an altogether different way of looking at this place, it could be a very welcome breath of fresh air.

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  • Strange Goings On

    by Alexander Stevenson 24 Aug 2009

    This time last week I was preparing myself for a very early start. For last Tuesday, I stirred my senseless body into wakefulness before dawn, and stole away from the little wooden cottage, heading up the track-ways towards the heart of the island. Not far on at all I found the forestry shed, a huge green metal barn used for woodworking and storing old tools. Within, amongst the timbers, I found what I had been searching for since the rumours of it’s existence first reach me a few days before; The cloak of Eigg.
    The myth of it’s being woven from mackerel nets and whisky bottles had held great promise (and knowing that all myths have a kernel of truth) the actual item was of course a lesser version, though altogether still pretty impressive. It was crocheted wool, that held empty miniatures of Famous Grouse woven into the knit. It was unfortunately also not a cloak, and was bound permanently around an old sheet of drift wood. Unperturbed I nabbed the relic in true India Jones style, humming his theme tune as I made a run for it down to the pier with my bounty and all of my other equipment I had left waiting for me half way down the path. I desperately clutched at the rattling bottles, hoping no-one would wake up and catch me, and ask me to explain!
    I had been so inspired by the myth of this cloak, and by the persistence of the phrase “A red can and a dram” which is the obligatory cocktail of every island occasion, that I had created a crown of McEwans cans to finish off the outfit.
    At 5.30am on Tuesday morning I set up my camera in the darkness in front of the pier tea rooms, with it’s single waiting room light casting a glow across the gravel. I set up the shot to take-in the great “An Sgurr” mountain behind and donned my canny-crown. I pressed the timer and ran, leaping up onto the table top and posing with the “cloak” attempting to hold it to my back as a cloak is worn, and trying to appear like the “King of Eigg”, wearing the ornaments of what it takes to be him. The early morning light seemed like I was the last man standing after an all night boozer, the contents of which might have composed my crown.

    I photographed a dozen poses, until a huge gust of wind took the crown off my head and smashed it to pieces on the gravel. Perhaps An Sgurr was stirring and my gesture was unwelcome? Either way I lifted an empty can in honour to the sleeping pitch-stone giant, popped the cans in the recycling, and silently hiked back up to the forestry shed to return the whiskey relic before 6am.

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  • Revivals

    by Alexander Stevenson 14 Aug 2009

    Since the interview with Katie MacKinnon, I have been developing a ‘guising’ costume from her description; embellished using the common island dress of century ago as depicted in the island photo-archive. Having created a costume I then strode forth (with great trepidation as the costume seemed pretty menacing) to cause imaginary havoc!
    I quickly realised that although the costume itself is pretty simple and harmless, the response I had from people was generally that of panic and fear! The tourists were intrigued but only felt at ease once they knew I was re-enacting some faux-historical event, at which point they lined up to watch or kindly stayed to onside to let me photograph. This only worked so-so and thus I took to guising in secret- ‘guise-bombing’ you might call it. Where I would strike out across the island finding quieter locations or abandoned vehicles, casually set up my camera, take off my waterproof, slip the sack over my head, set the timer, and run over to pose for the shot. This seemed to work very well and I am still creating a collection of images of the guising character stealing tractors, trailers and an old plough, and running about menacingly in the woods. There are no police on Eigg, and I wonder if this sort of behaviour would be tolerated back in inner-city Glasgow?
    The images I have posted alongside this article were strongly influenced by the photographer Meatyard, who of course has the last word on Halloween masks.

    The inter-Island games is tomorrow (regardless of the weather) so I am hoping to document the activities. So far I am imagining that scene out of Father Ted where they go to “Fun-Land” and there is a cat spinning on a record to stare at, and a bench you sit on that is hoisted up by a crane.
    In truth though it should be more Highland games than fete. With caber tossing and tug of war, but with wellie tossing and egg & spoon chucked in for fun. It’ll be another excuse for a big booze-up too, on which I’m backing the home team to win out-right. I heard that no one on the island could lift the caber that they cut from the forest yesterday, so they were talking about cutting a few feet off the end! I also heard some malicious suggestions to have one caber left out in the rain to make it heavier for the other competing islands, and dry out the Eigg caber in one of the sheds. But even this sneaky advantage probably won’t allow my artist’s build to muster enough strength for the caber toss.

    I am soon to round up the recordings for the audio guide, in favour of more physical artworks and working on the play with the school. I have heard a rumour about a mythical cloak that lives in one of the forestry sheds. It is said that it was woven from mackerel netting and embedded in it are the hundreds of whiskey miniatures. I am hoping to go in search of this mythical garment (though expecting it to be a disappointing rag if I find it!) to photograph with a piece of head-wear I am working on. Very Lara Croft.

    There is a couple of interesting trends coming through in the conversations. For instance there is a sense that people come to Eigg from all over the place, but once here they take on the identity of a modern Eiggach (though it takes generations to be called “Eiggach”). One of the questions I have been asking: “Is Eigg a very Scottish place, or is it more multicultural?” has been met by every islander stating “Both”, but agreeing that the culture of the island does not change to accommodate incoming cultures, but rather shifts to assimilate them, and the result islanders all point to; is Scottish.

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  • The Sheep May Pole & the Massacre Crab

    by Alexander Stevenson 11 Aug 2009

    Despite my ability to on occasion take pretty reasonable photographs, I have been taking great pleasure in reducing the quality, saturating the colours and generally creating images that look like tired old 1970’s and 80’s postcards. This current obsession is a bit quirky but I am really enjoying the unusual quality of the images, particularly in the recently uploaded “Sheep Pole” Swap Shop icon and the still experimental icon- “Massacre Crab”

    As I noted on the image label, I created an installation with ribbons and an ancient standing stone out on the hillside; marking the seemingly ritualistic (but in fact mundane and habitual) behavioural movements of the island sheep. I did actually weave the ribbons in the time honoured fashion and tied it off in a huge bow at the base, but I think the image of the as yet untangled ribbons, the ‘potential’, is far more interesting and inviting an image than the completed act.

    I have completed the sorting in the Swap Shop (phew!), and out of the couple of thousand items, nearly half had no traceable provenance, but the other half I identified as having been made in one of 45 countries world-wild, with only a handful of items coming from Scotland, and three handmade garments from Eigg.
    The list of “Made In” labels, for posterity, is as follows: Australia, Holland, Denmark, France, Belgium, Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, Italy, Spain, Germany, Indonesia, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Tunisia, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Peru, Japan, Malaysia, Portugal, Vietnam, South Africa, Nepal, Morocco, Macau, Mauritius, Czechoslovakia, Pakistan, India, Philippines, Turkey, Greece, Singapore, Lithuania, Korea, United Arab Emirates, El Salvador, Taiwan, U.S.A, China, P.R.C.(People’s Republic of China), Hong Kong, Foreign, UK, Britain, England (a huge number of books from: St Ives) Ireland, Scotland, Nowhere.

    I am still interviewing islanders for the forthcoming audio walking guide, and questions have been raised about what connection the tourists (only ever referred to as ‘visitors’ on the island as a policy), or even islanders themselves- actually have with many of the landmarks. I have spoken to one or two islanders who have lived on Eigg for decades, who have never visited parts of the tiny island that visitors pass everyday!

    The experiment I have jovially titled “Massacre Crab” is an attempt to include this inconsistency and disconnection between a landscape, it’s history, and our perception of it. I am testing out various images which employ misdirection within images that I could potentially use on the Swap Shop items.
    What is interesting about this growing collection of icons for the swap shop, is that many of the representations (whether banal, historically-uncertain, misdirected, or just plain whimsical) will be distributed and could come to represent the island in an extremely abstract way.

    I am currently feeling the need to re-enact the island tradition of Guising (in photography at least) with costumes described to me by the 91 year old, and the islands oldest orriginal islander, Katie MacKinnon. Though she couldn’t remember a great deal of the details, Katie said that she and her brothers would go out, on Halloween in particular; “Yes Halloween. But there’s hardly anything like that going on now. I miss it. It’s great fun. I was out guising once a time. Ha Ha. I wore any rags I could get a hold of. A false face. A ribbon round the back.” So there you go. No images of such costumes exist, so I am going to have to take a few liberties and embellish a costume of my own.

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  • The Battle of Swap-Shop Ridge

    by Alexander Stevenson 4 Aug 2009

    I’m over two weeks into a six week residency now, and thankfully the interactions I am having with islanders are becoming more meaningful and productive. I was worried that I might loose momentum and I wondered to what extent I would actually want the islanders’ input to drive the work? Also I was initially worried I might make some faux pas that would get me tarred and feathered.
    Interestingly I have been talking about just such attitudes as this with several of my peers by phone (when the signal is able to bounce of the clouds at the correct angle/ time of day/ position of the moon or whatever). Is it possible that just such a conflict might produce a more interesting piece of work than something that could otherwise be seen as ‘straight’ or clear cut? I thoroughly enjoyed a presentation by Marcus Coates about a year ago, where he explained how a residency he had undertaken in which he created a large billboard, with a huge poster of himself in character, in the middle of a wood; led the local population to unite in burning it down, “It brought the community together in a beautiful and unusual way” he explained (I paraphrase).

    I am currently having a little ‘battle of interests’ of my own it seems, though the enemy is unseen, perhaps even entirely in my own head. As you can see by the newly attached image, someone has come along and torn up some of the labelling work I have begun, and keeps removing the sign from the door stating “Sorting. Take what you like but please don’t rearrange the order, Cheers!”. I am imagining some brownie or sprite coming along each evening after I have been sorting in the remote Swap Shop and putting everything back where it was. In all likely-hood it is some overly attendant individual who didn’t get the memo and assumes someone is playing a prank. I find this really entertaining and have gone from feeling disgruntled to actually hoping they will return and do more mischief! The battle continues…

    I have defined a clearer idea of the work I am undertaking in the swap shop now and I feel it might be good to place it here like a statement of intent:

    I want to juxtapose the swap shop (with its cultural discards) with ideas of cultural heritage, and a fledgeling tourism industry. The items from the swap shop represent the globalised contemporary islander, whose cultural identity (represented here by their personal possessions) may be influenced by hundreds of other cultures. Hence I am going to re-order the swap-shop to reflect the provenance of these items.
    This is no museum though, these objects: as ‘swappable’, are positioned to be given away as- “A Gift from Eigg”. And invites a new cultural object in it’s place as donation from the visitor.
    By ‘branding’ each item with a symbol of the island, whoever takes an item away with them will maintain the association between the object and Eigg (regardless of it’s original provenance). And in many ways these objects away in the world that I have ‘branded’, could be seen as the ongoing artwork. This symbol (or set of symbols) will represent this “gift” idea in the spirit of tourist paraphernalia, thus depicting the island as ‘quaint’ (meaning: attractive yet unusual or old fashioned). These images might come from views and landmarks I come across that meet the criteria, and might include some of my own inventions or mythologising about the place (I have an idea to create a May-pole for sheep, and re-enact the traditional Eigg Guising of which there is no photo record). The essence of the images will be banal but with oddness hidden amongst it and every now and then complete invention.

    On a separate note-
    It might also be interesting to create a sign for the swap shop (as it doesn’t have one) explaining how the swap shop works, encouraging visitors to add a sticker to the base of any new items as they become assimilated, and explaining the wider reaching effects of this process towards an ever more multicultural and globalised Eigg.

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  • Swap-Shop Fandango

    by Alexander Stevenson 27 Jul 2009

    It’s been over a week now since I landed on shore, and I am settling in very well. The public information letters that I sent out before my arrival are starting to tally-up in the islanders’ minds, with the strange late-twenties gentleman who keeps cycling around the island; saying hello to everyone and asking what they think of the place.
    There is a strong drinking and dancing culture on Eigg that anyone who has joined the community in the last thirty years has taken on as their own. It’s a great way to meet people and ask them questions. But personally I find it hard to see straight, let alone think straight when I’m nursing my fith red-can; so I’m trying to meet folks in other myriad ways.
    There is the inter-island games coming up on the 15th (all welcome!) this year hosted on Eigg, and I’ve put my name down to help with the preparations for the Eigg-n-spoon, the sack race, and the tug of war etc. It’s really nice that such things still happen. And ties in well with the pub-mumming play still planned for the 24th. I have long wondered if wider-reaching public art is a reaction to the death of many of these fetes and carnivals at the hands of the dreaded ‘Health n’ Safety’?

    Feeling positive about intereviews today. I need to get at least another twenty to create a really comprehensive audiowork from them in September. There are lots of people who are saying they will come and chat with me at somepoint after the games, and who don’t seem to need it explaining particularly so all the information I sent is getting through. I get a sense from people that either they’d be happy to to be interviewed, or that they never will!

    I also realised that I really need to get on with the swap shop this week and next if I want it done in time, and it’s going to be a really tricky piece to pull-off: hence the ‘fandango’!
    I am really interested in the cultural influences that have helped to shape the contemporary island, so I am thinking of persuing the re-ordering of the swap shop to represent the place in the world each object was made. There are plenty of items that came from all over Europe from places that you wouldn’t expect, and obviously lots from China, Australia, USA. etc. There is a plastic flute/recorder from Italy, a teasppon rack from North America, plates from all over England and France, plastic wares from Czechoslovakia, and the books are even more ridiculously well travelled; for instance- there are are English language childrens books printed in Budhapest and Tokyo, and a London Guide Book, printed in Singapore!

    When someone looks at Eigg, perhaps, buys something from the gift shop, they aren’t just buying ‘’a gift from Eigg’‘. They are taking away all of the influences imbued upon that object. This taps-in really well to a chapter I wrote last year for an academic book on ’materiality’ (a PDF is available from www.museumcabinet.com).

    That London city guide printed in Singapore, or the English language guide to Italy printed in Germany; perfectly represents the way multi-culturalism and globalism shape our perception of ourselves, and affect what we associate with a place. These guide books have become cultural artefacts ‘from Eigg’. Also, I really like the ‘gift’ ideology. The swap shop exists because people don’t want to throw things away- (it’s an Eco sin!). So “A Gift From Eigg” means: please take it away!- but it still exists as a cultural artefact of the island, as much as any tourist paraphenalia (probably more because it was once owned by an islander).

    I’m working on logo’s that can represent this over the next two weeks between interviews and I might start posting up prototypes as I go. Be good to use this blog as a source of feedback.

    One thing that is clear about undertaking a residency of this kind, is it never makes the list of options open to me any smaller the longer I am here. Rather than focusing in at this early stage; I feel as if I may be drowned in subtleties, interrelationships, and wholly new choices!

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  • The Rumour Mill (and the grain of truth)

    by Alexander Stevenson 21 Jul 2009

    On Saturday 18th July 2009 I finally arrived, setting foot onto the pier in the Hebridean drizzle of late afternoon.

    Now as I think over the first four days, I am really pleased with what I’ve managed. I have interviewed the school teacher and so far arranged for a further five interviews over the next three weeks. Ideas for new work are coming thick and fast from the particular surroundings that I am finding myself in, and I have set myself up in a fantastic home-made recording studio and workshop in the heart of the island.

    The two new images I have attached are from the island swap-shop, which is where I am intending to create one of the major pieces of work during the project. It’s a really good size and has all manner of ridiculous discards from an old C-B radio to a German Christmas tree stand. I am going to attempt several “re-arrangements” of the contents. One, might be to examine the discards as Eigg’s cultural artefacts (no matter where they were manufactured) and the space as a museum of cultural desire, waste, and re-use. One of the interview-points I want to research is how Eiggach feel they have been influenced by other cultures. Personally I wonder if toys made in China might say just as much about their last owner here as any object made on Eigg?

    There is also a lovely standing stone, moved to it’s current location after it was found in the Larch plantation in the centre of the island some years ago. It has a track worn around it that looks like people have ritually walked around and around it for decades. The fact is, the track will have been made by sheep and for no more ritual a task that to scratch their fleecy bums! But it feels significant enough a gesture at comprehending why we name archaeological finds as “ritual”, simply because we’re not sure what they were for. I have been asking myself if I would be prepared to walk around it daily for the whole time I’m here; mimicking the sheep and enjoying their ritual. Truth is I’m probably not!

    As to the title of this blog, I am referring to a mood that I have been noticing in response to my activities, and particularly towards the public information letters I sent out to all Islanders three weeks ago.
    It seems interesting and I think relevant to the debates surrounding public art, to explore how artist’s are perceived by audiences who are (whether they like it or not) a focus of the artworks being made-

    I had seen a few familiar faces from my research trip on the ferry crossing, and I had made the effort to said hello. But I wondered if had been giving off an unfriendly aura, as the reception was altogether a little cold. Soon afterwards I was quite enjoying the anonymity of a tourist as my photographer Danielle and I plodded towards the cafe at the pier. I was greeted halfway by Norah, who was generously offering us our accomodation and we went on to speak to several other people who were all back in the same high spirits as I had left them in September. All seemed well. But later I was introduced to several of the trust volunteers who are also staying in the modest- “Garden Cottage” this month. The first thing that was said after introductions was “All we heard was that there’s some self-proclaimed artist coming this month.”
    I was a bit unsure what to read into the title “Self-Proclaimed Artist”. It sounded like a derogatory opinion of one of the islanders filtered through the volunteers, and if this was the case I have yet to find out where the negative suggestion would have come from, or why. Plus, I couldn’t quite understand why the phrase itslef seemed negative to me. Aren’t we all self-proclaimed artists? Sure, I have an art degree, I am a member of the Scottish artists union, and I have positioned myself so as to be considered an “artist” by my peers… but I wonder what would quantify my “artistship” to the person who questioned it, or why it was that phrase they used to express an unhappiness with the project that was initially (and still mostly) so warmly welcomed? I have since had plenty of very warm and generous conversations with islanders who have generally been extremely helpful and eager to participate.

    Most of the islanders were expectant of my arrival. But there have been a few responses from islanders that suggest information I sent on ahead of my arrival was skimmed and only a couple of details were remembered. I have once or twice had the strange experience of being recognised- but where the person had no idea what I did, why I was there, or that it might involve them. Several people asked me if all of this paperwork and activies I would be doing meant I was simply on holiday! Some people never look at their mail or email which is fair enough on a relatively remote Scottish Island, and I respect peoples right to privacy. I also don’t want to make participating in artworks sound like pulling teeth! But there is a real challange to me as project-maker to include as many of the islanders as possible in contributing towards the artworks and activities. Relevance is tantamount.

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  • High Ideals

    by Alexander Stevenson 10 Jul 2009

    Almost a year since I first stepped off the Cal-Mac Ferry, I am finally returning to Eigg. I’ve spent almost a year proposing, planning, and preparing, and it feels as if I have already done the project a hundred different ways in my imagination.

    I have, of course, had to make formal statements about my intentions to no less than five different bodies and trusts, but the very essence of a residency (in my mind at least); is the intention to observe one’s surroundings and be influenced by what you see, hear, and imagine whilst assuming the grandiose title of ‘artist in residence’. In other words- you shouldn’t plan too much, you should be responsive and allow a good deal of chance to form outcomes and activities. With this in mind I am not sure how much I can say about activities in advance. As I said though, I have imagined hundreds of possible outcomes, enough that perhaps I will make Eigg the centre of my practice for several years to come.

    One particular activity that will definitely take place and has been a part of previous projects; is the interviewing of people involved.
    I want to lead-on from recordings I make with islanders twofold: to guide and influence activities and objects I create; and to form an alternative audio walking guide for future audiences.
    The content of the guide so far remains open, but the potential is for the islanders to contribute personal and island-wide myths and stories, create new ones, or simply have a platform for voices that don’t necessarily speak as one on issues that are important to Eiggach.

    The pub-mumming-style play that I created the first time I visited Eigg will hopefully seed a re-enactment or two, and I am working on posters that will glorify the illustrious first performance. Though strangely my memory of the event (and thus the posters depicting characters floating high above the isle in war balloons) does not seem to match up to the photographs I have of it. This assimilation of periphery, tangency, and imagination is set to continue with the children of Eigg Primary, when they perform their own re-enactment of the play in the last week of August.

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  • The Scottish Play

    by Alexander Stevenson 1 Jul 2009

    As I mentioned in my last post, I spent a month on Eigg in September 2008, talking to Eiggach and recording several interviews as part of preliminary research.

    Catching the very end of the tourist season, the pier café shut up shop and only a handful of visitors could be seen in the hills. Thankfully, the Eigg ceilidhs took on a life of their own with a triple birthday; bringing hundreds of young people over to the island, including a band that came to play that I remembered from my teenage years- ‘King Creosote’.

    Beside ‘stripping-the-willow’, I was spending many of my days beach combing, and I had offered to clear a great deal of the old nets and plastic strips strewn along the north-western shore line in return for my lodgings. Almost intuitively I began separating what I found into colours- like some early 80’s Tony Cragg sculpture. I bagged this and brought it back to my lodgings.

    As I was writing the play during this time: the coloured strips of plastic and netting, and the odd rubber glove or chemical bottle seemed to be the natural props and costume materials that would further contextualise the play. Many of the crates that washed up had Chinese or Thai writing on them, the rest were largely from America, both North and South. Rather optimistically, I thought- using these items would link the play to the sea and the to lives of other people and cultures from far and wide. This seemed significant for a play that was supposed to tackle the inconsistencies of the contemporary and historical landscape, whilst allowing for a play that would slowly come to assimilate more and more of it’s surroundings. In many ways the play (and it’s future re-enactment) was about the ‘assimilation of culture’, or perhaps of ‘cultural appropriation’, in order to transcend time periods and place.

    So I spent several more days beach combing for coloured strips of plastic, which I wove into costumes. I used the bottles and polyester bedding that found to use as props or make hats, and I used the black bin liners, rope and bed sheets I found in the house to create outfits.

    One incredibly misty morning, when I could not see the fields beyond the dry stone walling of the path, I worked my way around the vast pitch stone mountain of An Sgurr (invisible in the sea mist), to the ghost town of Grulin on the windy south of the island. Here the inhabitants had been driven from the land by the sheep farmers in the 16-18th centuries, and with ten metre visibility I performed a curious Galloshing/Mumming style play for the long-absent inhabitants of Grulin. I wanted to begin creating connections between the contemporary and historical island and performing for the dead seemed like the best place to start. My play attempted to reference a whole host of folk play traditions, mixed in with a range of Eigg’s historical characters and symbols. The main theme of the most common mumming play, is the death and revival of one or both of the two main characters, cured by a doctor and observed and narrated by a long-nosed fool. I had four costumes and a camera on a tripod. I performed my play in four acts and a week later I left the island, having said nothing of the play to any living soul.

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  • The research trip

    by Alexander Stevenson 26 Jun 2009

    In order to properly research what, where, and how I was to carry out this residency I traveled to Eigg in September 2008; with a mini-disc, a microphone and a camera. There I stayed in a little wooden building used by wildlife and trust volunteers during the summer months, and which had no electricity, and only brackish-water directed in from the river. I spent a very happy four weeks romping around the island recording conversations with islanders about their perceptions of public art, and what they thought would be well received in a community that is almost exclusively musical.
    Eight or nine of the eleven Eiggach I recorded interviews with where really excited about the idea of having contemporary art on the island. It became clear that issues around island development and tourism where challenging, possibly irresolvable debates. Many individuals expressed feeling like they were stewards of the island’s history rather than it’s heirs, and a couple said they had almost no relation to it all. A curious state of affairs was expressed between the incongruous needs of islanders and those of the much needed tourists. There seemed to be a general consensus through speaking with islanders that I would be able to achieve a great deal if I examined these areas more closely.
    But there were also one or two dismissals of such activities (and of art in general). I have decided to quote one particularly vibrant set of remarks for the sake of posterity, though the protagonist will remain anonymous.

    “The word interpretation makes people think ‘wank’, commonly… the word interpretation has been given a bad name… [it’s] often associated with people who’ve not a f****** clue about the place or the history, they’re just people who’ve got the money to come and do some project miles away from anything they know anything about and that’s the way it works… In Glenuig recently they got some ‘plonk art’ as you’d say I suppose… does the landscape and sea not interpret itself? Do you need to interpret it? I see no need for it whatsoever, it’s its own interpretation, it doesn’t need someone there telling you this is what it is. That’s the whole point, that you’re there to interpret it yourself aren’t you? That’s the beauty.”

    Though I sheepishly left the dust to settle at the time, I later included this quote in the formal proposal for a residency on Eigg, indicating that I agree that ‘plonking’ public art in landscapes is a challenging way to connect with local people (or incite violence!). But, that what I was hoping to achieve would go beyond the attempt to interpret “the landscape and sea”, that I believe that art might be a vehicle for Eiggach to communicate their relationship with the landscape and its history to a broader cultural audience. That by creating activities, images and objects about the contemporary debates that are happening now (that may not ever be completely resolved), he might find genuine value in the representation of relevant debates and issues that Eiggach can get behind or dispute with equal passion. I also promised never to spoil a view.

    Whilst on the island last year (and between interviews) I starting asking islanders about folk-plays. There had been a tradition of aural history-telling and song-writing that existed right up to the last handful of elderly Eiggach who had been born on the island before the schellenbergian era. But there was no trace of theatrical activities in the history or in the photographic archives, in the learning centre behind the school.
    In Nottinghamshire before I moved up to Glasgow last year, there was a huge number of merry-makers and mumming troupes and I have long been an advocate of such assimilatory traditions. I realised that there was potential for me to bring more of my own traditions and personal myths into the mixture, and alongside ideas for an alternative audio walking guide, and an intervention in the island swap shop; I set to work writing a folk-play based on island characters and in-keeping with the pub-mumming plays of my own childhood.

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  • In the beginning...

    by Alexander Stevenson 16 Jun 2009

    The 12th June 1997 marked the end of a long and hard fought battle for the islanders of Eigg. For tens of centuries this tiny and unyielding landscape has supported small populations of Eiggach, and for almost as long (earliest remains indicate the Bronze Age) there have been Kings, Queens, and landlords who oppressed them (save a few progressive souls).

    The earliest clans fought amongst themselves and Eigg’s entire population was twice wiped out entirely (save an old lady who could tell the tale). The English, of course, considered sheep more profitable than the Scotts and ruined many of the Small Isles creating bracken strangled moors, unfit for farming. With the sheep farming came evictions, the new owners using the stones of old tenant housing to build field walls. There were the odd couple of progressive owners at the beginning of the 20th century, but the last pair of these trinket collecting King-for-a-day types took it a step too far. Advertising for new islanders to create a thriving community, followed by insensible and whimsical behavior and constant threats of evictions drove someone (no-one will admit to the crime) to set fire to His-Nib’s antique Bentley Limousine, by the pier. Schellenberg (a name that a decade on still draws a grimace) was shortly afterwards driven away only to be replaced by a more illusive despot; the German artist Maruma. This con-man laid out a set of bizarre development plans, only for it to turn out that he had bought the Isle with money from questionable foreign sources and had passed it through doubtful companies and guises. The Isle and its mixed bag of inhabitants (from England, France and from other parts of Scotland- immigrants of the Schellenbergian era, and numbering only 50) bought their island, in partnership with the Highland Council and the Scottish Wildlife Trust. Whether it is true or not that Pavarotti put in a serious bid against the islanders is still a source of hilarity more than certainty.

    The community that had fought and won now busied itself with becoming self sufficient with its own hydroelectric power, and other Eco accolades.

    About two years ago I started looking into islands. Almost from nowhere I started dreaming about creating a residency on a small inhabited island that would examine how islanders relate to their contemporary and historical landscape. I imagined that island communities had a strong sense of identity and connection to their history and culture, and I imagined (naively) that most of them would have lived there since the year dot. I intended to question the relationships between the preservation of historical and cultural artifacts, and the commodification of these artifacts for tourism. I wanted to explore how personal and island-wide myths are affected, and if any new ones are created as a result. So I was intrigued to discover the Isle of Eigg in the Scottish Small Isles. An 87 strong population on a 3×5 mile stretch of land with forests, lochs, a plateau, a unique geological rock formation, and a largely immigrant population who had fought and won to own their own island just ten years ago. This recent history defined their identity then, and unsurprisingly they are still largely defined by it today.

    Many of the islanders I have spoken to have said that it is about time that Eigg starts to create new accolades that define it, and I offered to create a project that would examine the Eiggach’s relationship to their broader history, to tourism debates that are ongoing, and to try to comprehend the way in which Eiggach relate to their historical and contemporary landscape.

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