dominique cameron RSW

The bridge, Great Junction Street. Sitting next to the water of Leith I meet a red bearded Glaswegian. He tells me his name is Willie. He also tells me he’s an alcoholic. He has lived rough on and off for the last twenty two years, except now he is in a B and B. His support worker says he’s ‘not to fuck it up, scuse my language’.  He has wandered all over the country, lived in some of the places I have but in very different circumstances. He recalls a holiday he took with his brother. They decided to walk the West Highland way. Starting at Milngavie they reached only as far as Balmaha, stopping at the local shop for a bottle of Buckfast, which they didn’t have, so drank some cheapo white wine – ‘pure squeezed your bum cheeks together’. Anyway it was raining so they gave up . He wants to try again some day. I give him my sketch which he scrumples up and puts in his pocket. He offers to buy me a can of juice as he is away to the shop anyway for some cider. An exchange of kindness, as he wanders on. As do I.

 

Great Junction Street, Leith, Edinburgh. 14th September 2016. Thick, smirry, wet rain. A man in mustard trousers and a trilby cycles passed, a small child in pink wellies whizzes on her scooter. I sit outside the library looking at the enormous mural painted on the gable end wall of the tenement next door. It tells the story of Leith – its industry, its activism, its story of welcoming new communities. It has been here as long as I can remember. Boys with dogs, boys with phones.A sofa put out for the rubbish. ‘Yes’ independence posters in flat windows opposite, the blue fading , but not the desire. Anoraks and parkas, pigeons and buses. My feet are getting wet, daft to be wearing sandals on a day like today. The leaves are already starting to fall. The end of summer.

 

The end of my Leith walk. Gesso, acrylic, ink and charcoal on paper.

Gesso, acrylic, ink and charcoal on paper 78 x 26 cm.

Sun on the hill.

Shadowing trees,

late Summer

morning.

Heat of the dusty track.

Soft earth rises on

swallows, low over fields of barley.

Clouds burst in the deepening blackening blue.

Larch trees, Auchterhouse hill, Sidlaws, north of Dundee. Ink, charcoal and acrylic on paper – 150 cm x 45 cm.

Detail from Larch trees.

 

Kellie Castle. Acrylic, ink and charcoal on paper. The title comes from the track ‘Edina’ by Blue Rose Code, a band from Leith, Edinburgh which I was listening to.

 Ink and acrylic on paper.

Sitting in the top corner of a hay field looking across the Forth. The smell of cut grass. Butterflies and the sound of wood pigeons, deep shadows in the woods. Stinging nettles and bees. Heat. Shimmer.

Sunday, final day of the festival. The family that came a couple of days ago and bought the painting ‘America Street’ dropped by. Lovely to see them again and they bought another work. I was told I was ‘treasure of the week’, and so with ego massaged, I can close the front door and begin making a mess of my space once more. Thanks so much to the Lappin family and everyone who came to inquire, provoke, ignore, praise, criticise, support and converse with my work.

And a special thanks to Florence who screened her short documentary film about Adamsons oatcakes, Pittenweem last night in the Netloft. We were treated to oatcakes and mackerel pate and a gin and tonic as we sat back to watch her wonderful film. Absolutely brilliant. That was my treasure of the week.