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The river meets the sea here. In a sycamore tree a small birds nest sways. Pied wagtails skip along the path between the pharmaceutical plant and the shore. A pilot boat heads out to a ship anchored beyond the lighthouse. High tide. Railway sleepers, pallets, geese flying south. Dog shit, tinsel, good morning, aye right. Voices carry, across the water, boat engines, hammers, hi viz . Children run as the school bell rings. Old men in caps, hands buried deep in their coat pockets. Out for a paper, filling a day. January. Forgotten. And a thin sun falls for a moment on a line of white washed shirts, a brattle of pegged seagulls bursting to take flight.

Edge of the harbour, Pittenweem. Mixed media on paper 56cm x 26cm

 

Christies Lane, Montrose. January 2017. Mixed media on paper 30 x 21cm.

New year. New walk. Montrose.

Low sun over the sea, dark smudged clay clouds. In the gap between the sheds and the lighthouse curlews and oystercatchers follow a line along the shore, picking over their finds. Skin prickles, turning to face the northern arctic wind. It moans, singing along the new green, taller than me or you fence. Beyond, grain sacks strung high in the rafters swing, creaking the blackness of empty warehouse space. Outside the light becomes glassy, brilliant. A beginning.

 

Gunard grey skies gently weigh down the sea on this last day of the year. A final drawing.

 

Ink and charcoal on paper.  Dura Den, Fife.

 

 

Leith 2016.

Imperial grain silo and Stothert and Pitt crane, Leith.Mixed media on canvas – 50cm x 50cm.

Daltons scrapyard sign, Constitution street, Leith. Mixed media on paper – 50cm x 30cm

An unseasonal warm wind bustles shoppers along the street. Tenement windows are pushed open. A woman leans out, arms folded, watching whats going on, more a picture of summer than December. I meet a pacifist anarchist Polish man in a charity shop. He says he was depressed in Poland and moved to Scotland because he likes the multiculturalism here. He is attempting to display a box of crockery but doubts his aesthetic skills. Seagulls glide the currents of air, Christmas lights reflect in the puddles at the kerb. A woman shows me the artificial tree she has bought and the spray snow for her living room. Says it will cheer her up seeing as she lives on her own, her son stays with her mum and dad. ‘Nice to have met you, I’m off to the dentist. Too many sweeties’, she laughs. A waitress pulls down the shutter on the cafe. Skinny young men stand drinking, ‘Aye, weel, nah, see, if you buys some, aye smoke it wi’ folk you ken’. Twin boys in matching anoraks and bobble hats run, helterskelter, laughing, shouting, birling through the scheme. It is getting dark. A man hefts a Christmas tree over his shoulder and turning says ‘See you efter pal’. I walk to where the road ends.