Author: dominiquefcameron

I am just back from an epic trip to China to visit our son Joe. We travelled from Shanghai across China to the Tibetan plateau and back again. It was exhausting, wonderful and eye opening . There were only a handful of foreigners on the whole trip west and the further west we got the more the landscape became less known, less knowable – higher, broader, wilder with mountains in all directions. Local people wanted to take our photos which felt novel and odd but they were pleased to meet us and the differences between the more rural traditional landscapes and the new urban construction were stark. A fabulous trip. Need a month to recover 🙂

The trees have a heavy dark green velvet curtain feel to them, as if they are being pulled open and shut in the cool wind that blows in from the Tay. They are starting to reach the end of their fullness, too tired to keep their youthful hue . Cows daunder on the fields edge and behind, Normans Law, rising to such a view it is worth the climb – north, south, east, west – river, mountain, tree. An ancient history here sings the yellowhammer and wren while the yew trees in the churchyard shift their weight in response, a dance for what its worth, a memory of younger times.

Mixed media on wood panel – 40 x 50 cm.

Overcast, muted, today. The sea mumbles, a few dogs on the beach come over for a nosey. The red rocks here in this small outcrop are different from everything else around. Contorted and spewed, this particular ancient volcanic seam, now held fast, petrified, tumbling toward the sea. From the beach looking back it takes the form of a slain dinosaur, spiny platelets marking the passage of its body. Seals and shags keep watch. The Bass Rock flattens to a tanker inching its way along the horizon.

There they are, the swallows, flitting between the station roof and the railway track. A warning about the midges from a waitress who says when she lived at Rannoch she would even find them in her knickers. As you do. A lone bumblebee fills the whole moor with its buzzing. Slipping as I cross the burn, wet feet again. The rowan greets me as I climb on to my drawing knoll. Standing on a large granite boulder as if it were the prow of a ship, I look out, beyond all of myself to the great unfurling moor, and feel as if this sky, these hills, this bog is enough for any one person. Sitting down I pull out drawing paper and a plastic freezer bag that should contain pencils, crayons, ink and brushes. Instead however, I look to see a bag of cooked , cold chipolatas. I stare at them for a long time, unsure as what I am thinking and when finally a thought does arrive the question is whether I might be able to draw with a sausage ? Really? Really. Rootling around further in the depths of my rucksack produces the art materials, Drawing, following the line of hills, brushing sun and shadow, finding the rhythm of Rannoch that sounds across the bogland, I close my eyes and fall in.

Just to let you know that if you fancied grabbing a copy of the book to accompany the exhibition then do please got in touch. the price is £20 plus £2 postage.

You can email me at dominiquecameron3@gmail.com and we can arrange a copy to be sent.

Also, theres a great review of the show from arts journalist Jan Patience on her substack site – airts and pairts, if you were able to take a look 🙂

Thanks

Dominique x

A huge thank you to everyone that came along on saturday for the opening of the show. It was a great day with lots of good conversations about the project and art making in general. And with some sales too it was a great success. Do drop along if you can, the show runs until the 22nd June.

Tomintoul and Granny Pine, Abernethy wood.

High pillowed clouds in the bluest sky in May, recedes to violet and smalll patches of snow still visible on the northern facing mountains. A tottering lapwing, worries its patch of earth. In the woods the towering Scots Pines, a few Grannies as they are known – the oldest, tallest, gnarliest of them, wild and unkempt in their dotage and beautiful. The sun slants to the forest floor picking out dog violets. Meet an elderly couple who walk here every day – he was head forester way back when. They have been married sixty two years. He talked about the once thriving capercaillies and the small woodland birds that would feed from his hand. Butterflies dart and birdsong fills the pine scented air.

Oil, charcoal and collage on wood panel – 40 x 50 cm.