The land bears traces of its occupants, but like the songs of the whales which I heard out in the Loch, these traces seem to come from everywhere in general and nowhere in particular. For centuries these landscapes formed the outer rim of our cultural domain. Today, although geographically somewhat removed from the mainland mainstream, they are nevertheless very well connected, more keenly so perhaps than some mainland urban locations. The flotsam of the world washed ashore by the tides is an apt metaphor for our global culture, constantly fragmenting and dissolving, returning once again to nature and patinating the outer rim of our perceptions of the world.

The process of withdrawing to the Western Isles starts for me at Glencoe, as the road is drawn into what seems to be a portal into another world. From here onwards the layers of the world are peeled away in gradual stages.
Part of the excitement of these places is that the landscape is simultaneously familiar and strange. Despite the fact that the light is so very different, similar aspects and conditions are at work upon me as in the landscapes of North Yorkshire and Cumbria where I live. the Hebridean Landscapes are however, less domesticated, the paths are less well worn, less subject to over quotation. The way I see is inevitably conditioned by my own home patch, which in turn was chosen, and has been conditioned by the imaginary landscapes I inhabited as a child.

Some of this work is a direct response to particular places or things seen, others are concerned with processes of weather or nature. Some are more concerned with the ideas which people have and the beliefs they form about the landscapes they inhabit, the way we mark the land which we occupy.

Although we experience the land sensually in a tactile way, it resides in the mind. Landscape has a metaphoric aspect. It always stands for something. It may be the process of nature, the shadow of history, or perhaps an attitude to life, or a set of values or beliefs. Senses are sharpened when we have to actively use them in order to read the landscape through which we are travelling to open ourselves up to the signals which it makes.

The most exciting, enticing landscape is that which is at the edge of things. At the edge of perception - when the weather is bad, or where there is a sense of threat, or at the edges of understanding - where time is deep, or where knowledge is thin.

Titles in Gaelic signify a prime connection with either a specific place in the Hebrides, or with an idea or belief originating there. This is intended as a mark of respect for a place and culture which has given me so much.

John Hodkinson
June 2000