For me, painting is like breathing and eating; it’s something I simply have to do – I cannot not do it. In recent months it’s become my therapy too.
There’s a deeply satisfying sense of achievement, being an artist on the Isle of Mull, as you’re constantly responding to the environment. There’s something very dramatic about the Hebridean light and the rapidly changing weather that makes everything here so magical, and that’s partly what has kept me here for 42 years.
I moved here from Glasgow to teach art and design at the schools around the island, and it was amazingly different from being in the city. One primary school had 12 pupils, another had 19; and the high school had about 100 pupils. The population has grown over the years, but there was a time when I knew everyone who lived on the island.
It’s a tiny place that manages to be surprising every time you leave the house; I’m constantly seeing new things. The light might be different, or you can come across something you’ve never seen before. Every brush stroke I make is a new experience; there’s nothing like suddenly realising the beauty of what you’re working on and making it work. Sometimes it can be an utter disaster, of course, but that’s part of the joy of being an artist in a place like this.
Above all, though, Mull is the place I fell in love. I met Morven in 1982 – she’s a native here, known as a Muileach. She was training to be a teacher and working in the Salen Hotel, which was run by her family, and I was having a beer in the hotel bar. It grew from then.
The hotels were the social spots back then – the music scene was strong and bands played throughout the year. We’d go to the beautiful Mull beaches in the good weather, and there was a great pool in the River Forsa, where we would swim and skinny dip into the wee hours of the morning.
After Morven and I married in 1987, and had two beautiful girls, called June and Eilean, we continued to be involved in the community. Every village had a football team, and there was also a hotly contested badminton shield.
I was heavily involved in drama, both acting and creating stage sets, and played banjo in a band, as well as singing in the Mull Gaelic Choir.
Unfortunately, Morven lost her sight, and had to retire from teaching in 1997. It was a huge challenge and a very dramatic change in her life and the family’s, but she’s been amazing; she uses technology so well, plays golf, kayaks and loves gardening – and that’s why being on Mull is marvellous in so many ways.
This year, Mull has been particularly healing for me too. A few months ago I had to have my voice box removed, and I’m currently learning to speak again. The island helps my healing process and is therapeutic. I can’t sing in the choir any more, but it gives me a wonderful comfort being able to paint. I can still see, I can still create.
I can still look from the north-west of Mull for commanding views of the islands of Eorsa, Ulva and Gometra. Further round to the north, on a clear day, the islands of Eigg and Rùm become visible, with the Cuillins of Skye in between.
There’s the view over Loch na Keal back towards Ben More – a gentle giant of a mountain – as it rises from the pebble shore, and Caliach Point’s fortress-like rocks.
Then, of course, there’s the capital, Tobermory. It’s so inspirational to me because of the coloured houses, the fisherman’s pier, the boats; and the beautiful old distillery for Tobermory whisky – I swear you can taste the island in the whisky. The place is also steeped with art and supports young artists like Catherine Ross – who was an artist in residence at the distillery and is a lecturer at Gray’s School of Art in Aberdeen. She’s donated a couple of pieces to sit alongside the signs staff have created – nearly all of them have been handpainted by one of the whisky makers.
It’s all symptomatic of a truly extraordinary, creative island, that has created a beautiful whisky and that helps me produce really vibrant paintings. The island and my art have certainly helped me with what I went through. I’m still going through it, but I feel strong and I’m in good spirits.
To learn more about the art of the Hebridean distillers visit tobermorydistillery.com
