Tim Wootton Wildlife Art

New Work On Show; Wildscape Gallery, Stromness

2011-11-22T05:17:00.000-08:00

I’ll be hanging a new exhibition of work at Wildscape Gallery, Stromness this week. We’ll officially open on Saturday 26th with mulled wine and discounts on original work so that should be an entertaining day. We’re also launching a new set of prints then – perfect timing for Christmas! There will be 30 paintings; here are some of them which will be on show:

The preceding evening is the Private View of the Pier Arts Centre’s Christmas exhibition – I have two pieces in the show this year. Looking forward to a glass of vino and a wander round an eclectic mix of work.

Finally, following a hectic weekend which entailed taking the overnight ferry from Orkney to Aberdeen, train to Inverkeithing and car to Crossgates where I inspected and subsequently collected our new (old) campervan – drove it around Edinburgh and south to North Berwick whence I collected the unsold paintings from the Seabird Centre then crashed out at darling sister’s place. 04:30 start and a fab drive through the awesome Highlands to arrive at Scrabster just before 11am in glorious weather. Boat across to Stromness was silky smooth and the short 17 mile drive from there to home in Evie rounded off a tiring but ultimately successful weekend.

The new mobile studio/Sal's runabout

So – now the sun is shining and I have an hour spare, I’m off out to try out my new Swarovski ATM80HD. Mmmmmmm – report later.

"Up-High; Young Peregrine" watercolour

on show at Wildscape Gallery, Stromness from 26th November

SOCIETY OF WILDLIFE ARTISTS ANNUAL EXHIBITION

2011-11-02T11:45:00.000-07:00

Life does have its ups and downs, doesn’t it?! We’re all struggling under the pressure of tightening-belts as the global fiscal squeeze grips. There’s no doubt that when faced with the problems of paying bills and feeding the family, luxuries have to drop down the priority list. Unfortunately for us who work in the art world, that is only too evident. If the choice is food or art, inevitably art will lose out – that’s a fact. So for me, relying almost entirely on my work as an artist, the past couple of years have been particularly trying and the constant effort to survive is a challenge indeed. But we’re still hanging in there. In fact, if I can take the financial aspect out of the equation then I’ve never been more confident about the direction my work is heading. After many years of peering through mud, my vision is starting to clear and I’m now addressing my work with a purposefulness which had been only fleeting in the past.

There’s no doubt that writing the book (Drawing & Painting Birds) helped to crystallize my own ideas and the process also brought me into personal contact with many of my heroes in the genre and their support and enthusiasm for my project instilled a greater confidence in what I was doing. Following the publication of the book I went with other artists on two field trips.

2011 is proving to be an important year for me and I have spend more time than usual in the company of fellow artists. The trip to the uninhabited island of Swona with fellow Orkney artists Sheena Graham-George, Diana Leslie, Dominique Cameron, Anne Bignall and Mark Scadding was the first artists field trip I’d been on. I loved every minute of the trip and the collective creativity was tangible – I filled a couple of sketchbooks whilst there and painted almost solidly for three subsequent weeks. I was then invited to join the Artists for Nature Foundation (ANF) on their visit to the Channel Island of Sark. Spending a week with some of the World’s foremost wildlife artists was both an honour and an incredibly daunting prospect. Above all, however, it was fascinating and instructional to be able to watch artists of the calibre of Harriet Mead, Rosanne Guille, Mike Warren, Carry Akroyd and Vadim Gorbatov as they worked on various aspects of the landscape and wildlife of the Island. Being with these people was truly inspirational and I was keen to bring some of their approach and professionalism to my own scribbling.

Up here in Orkney it’s the end of the tourist season and the visitors have stopped coming to the gallery (not that I was ever swamped by people, you understand). The past couple of years I have shut the shop from the end of October til sometime in the spring because it was costing more in electricity than I would take in meagre sales. This winter I’m going to spend more time in the gallery mainly because I don’t have a studio at the cottage so it will be interesting to see if I make any sales at all.

Waxwings & Keys

Ink and watercolour, 20"x16"

Scottish Seabird Centre Exhibition, Oct 14" - Nov 16th, 2011

Meanwhile the year’s work is culminating in two important exhibitions; a one-man show at the Scottish Seabird Centre, North Berwick and the Society of Wildlife Artists Annual Exhibition at the Mall Galleries. The Seabird Centre exhibition is seminal in that it is my first extensive one-man show outside of Orkney for over 20 years. Twenty-eight brand new paintings were made for the show.

The SWLA exhibition is also proving to be an important time for me. On the Preview day, Wednesday 26th October, I was awarded the BIRDWATCH / SWAROVSKI ARTIST OF THE YEAR AWARD, perhaps the ultimate prize in Birding Art in Britain. It seems like a long time since I was shortlisted for the SWAROVSKI Young European Bird Artist of the Year Award – back in 1991, at the SWLA. And now, exactly 20 years later, I feel I am at last coming of age as a painter. I was also elected as an Associate Member of the Society of Wildlife Artists by the SWLA committee on the same day. WOW!!!!!

Ups and Downs, eh? – What would life be without them . . .

North Haven Fair Isle; Light and Intermediate Phase Arctic Skuas

Charcoal, 34"x22"

Tim Wootton ASWLA – Birdwatch / Swarovski Artist of the Year, 2011

Orkney Seascapes

2011-10-25T12:50:00.000-07:00

Eastern Promise is in the air! There’s been a steady constant flow of air from the continent bringing with it some rather special creatures. Most of these, however, have deemed to miss our wee block of land and decided that archipelagos further north are favourable – tsk, tsk! Islands in the west have also been soaking up species originating in America and all we seem to be getting is the wind! But once it dies away . . . well, no doubt the Isles will be littered with exotic birds. Birding in this weather is fairly pointless however, so until the wind abates I will have to concentrate on studio-based pursuits.

Several commissions are starting to take shape in my mind – a couple of which are almost purely landscape/seascape so I have been using the past few days to explore seascape s a theme. I must confess I have found the more distant approach both a challenge and a welcome distraction following the concentrated effort working on a bird-level for the Seabird Centre Exhibition (still on show until 17th November - http://www.seabird.org/home.asp ). I aim to work on seascapes for the next few weeks – the first of which are below:

"North Isles Summer"

oil on canvas, 24"x18"

(available from the Online Gallery)

"Whipping-Up; Looking Towards Skiba Geo"

oil on cavas, 20"x16"

(available from the Online Gallery)

Exhibition 14th October - 16th November, Scottish Seabird Centre

2011-09-27T11:29:00.000-07:00

I’m bang in the middle of working towards the opening of my new exhibition at the Scottish Seabird Centre, North Berwick. The Private View is Thursday 13th October. If anyone would like tickets please contact me directly or the Seabird Centre;

Tickets are free but must be reserved in advance at the Scottish Seabird Centre or by calling 01620 890202. Held at the Scottish Seabird Centre, The Harbour, North Berwick

Although I have a fallback position of a few favourite pieces, I intend to be showing an entirely new collection of 35 original works – fingers crossed! Below is a new painting completed this week;

‘Moulting Eiders’, watercolour, 22”x15”

I look forward to seeing some of you there!!!

SWLA Submissions and Exhibition of Work, Scottish Seabird Centre, North Berwick

2011-09-08T15:38:00.000-07:00

That time of year . . . again! Breeding season is rolling up its towel and trudging off to the bar and birds which have bred at more northerly latitudes are already spilling down through the continent on their southern break. It’s yet to really get going here in Orkney although the extreme northern isles have had extraordinary numbers of wrynecks and rosefinches with a couple of super-nice ‘biggies’ such as great snipe and Fea’s petrel. Lapland buntings are appearing in small numbers too – maybe heralding another enormous influx of this fine little passerine.

With my SWLA submissions already packed and sent I have now to address the fact that I will be hanging a major one-man exhibition at The Scottish Seabird Centre in North Berwick which will open in the middle of next month. Over thirty original and brand new pieces are scheduled and I think I’m now painting some interesting pieces in readiness for the show.

In recent years I’ve found that I tend to gravitate towards monochrome, specifically charcoal, at this time of year – to leave entirely alone as a medium for perhaps the other eleven months. The change in the season manifests itself in big seas and dramatic cliffscapes, subjects ideally suited to this approach. In fact, when considering these charcoal paintings it would be difficult to see how they would be enhanced with the application of colour as they depict scenes of rock and foam, swell and spume; all fundamentally about value and key and relating less to hue.
This session however I’ve also detoured somewhat and allowed the indulgence of a few portraits too.

The sketchbooks are becoming increasingly important to me and the way I work; fleeting moments scribbled in pencil or watercolour on long, warm afternoons on the heathery tops have an added resonance at this time of year. Delineated forms are one thing but more so are the notes and washes of colour which help to flick the switch when remote from the moment and he subject. I’m resolving issues of colour and form by direct reference to the field studies than ever I did previously.

Through these periods of stylistic chop and change, the Sharpie remains constant. I use the pen often for scribbling ideas and processing thoughts on colour in the studio and intend to make several finished Sharpie paintings for the upcoming show. I imagine this one (or a version of it) will get wall-space at some point.

I’ll post updates about the exhibition dates and times very shortly.

Media Musings

2011-08-13T04:09:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks have been spent working around the property but art-time has been spent trying to develop my work across a range of media. I find that switching approaches and spending a period of time exploring what different materials can offer to me and how I can best use their properties.

The Sharpie drawings continue and they are now finding a place in my general process of making art – I now use the medium as an interface between the sketchbook and either a larger-scale fully developed Sharpie painting, or as the preliminary colour study for colour-work using different materials.

This Sharpie sketch went through several incarnations until the finally realised version manifested in the form of an oil painting on canvas . . .

. . . and these little Sharpie studies collided often, in the form of a watercolour painting and finally (for now) a fully blown Sharpie piece.

The nature reserve is developing better than I could have imagined – some of the willows are now over 6 feet tall (although the winter blasts will no doubt curtail their enthusiasm – at least they should have decent roots in readiness for he spring spurt) and the pond has been visited by an interesting selection of species including several snipe (one of which I watched, sketched and eventually committed to watercolour) and a fabulous green sandpiper which stayed briefly, but long enough for me to fire off a couple of record shots of its visit).

Six Artists on Swona - An Island Odyssey

2011-07-07T05:47:00.000-07:00

Uninhabited islands have a magical quality; even more so when that island was once home to a thriving community of people. Swona has this special magic.

Swona sits in the Pentland Firth between Orkney and Caithness, west of South Ronaldsay. The area is extremely tidal and roosts are apparent at both the north and south ends of the island. It’s a potentially dangerous approach and even large vessels are flicked about. We moored just off the Haven and transferred into a 9foot inflatable, rucksacks, food, art gear and optical equipment chucked in first then the precarious ship to ship transfer of personnel. Following the 30 minute crossing from Burwick, South Ronaldsay I, along with five fellow artists – Anne Bignall, Dominique Cameron, Sheena Graham-George, Diana Leslie and Mark Scadding – were shuttled from the Pettlandssker via the little orange inflatable in two groups, scrambling up the storm-beach at the Haven where we were met by the Orkney Bird-ringing group who were headed back to Mainland Orkney.

Most seabirds have been having a torrid time of it over the past decade, so it was encouraging to see so many puffins whizzing about so purposefully. Sandeels of all sizes were in evidence so it looks as though tiny chicks and their larger kin are being nourished. Kittiwakes and razorbills were feasting too.

Swona is a little over a mile long by half a mile wide and is home to the (in)famous Swona Cattle; left here untended for over thirty years, they are now recognised as a unique and distinct breed. They’re also rumoured to be a tad on the tetchy side on occasion – a fact which hadn’t slipped by unnoticed by me. The island is littered with memorials documenting the development of the herd – an old heifer gradually sinking back into the pasture which gave her nourishment in life, lying still in the peaceful position where she finally collapsed to the ground, never to rise again beside a tiny lochan; reminiscent of water buffalo on the African Plains. A bull turning from red fur to green algae, merging with the colour and textures of the rocks.

So – for a three night, four day stay we had to lug food and water, clothing and sleeping gear and artists’ materials. Our accommodation was basic – a couple of rooms in one of the least-dilapidated houses which remain. I did have to sweep away the decaying remains of a rabbit before positioning my sleeping bag, but the hours out on the cliffs and the odd sun-downer (at approximately 11 pm) helped sleep to come.

But the days were jam-packed with drawing and painting opportunities and rarely have I had the chance to stay in the field for 9 hours in one sitting recently. A mixture of sun, rain and breeze accompanied each outing and the occasional cautious glance to check where the cattle were at any particular time added and extra piquance to the day’s work.

Although a limited number of species were encountered (a lone whimbrel being the most exotic of the trip), the numbers of puffins and razorbills combined with their accessibility meant I filled half a sketchbook in the three full days of work. Some of these scribbles and studies have already been translated into colour paintings of the ‘Sharpie’ pen and watercolour variety.

A Wildlife Refuge; The Inception - Curlew Mating & Conception?

2011-05-19T03:01:00.000-07:00

My favourite time of the year and already the breeding season is in full swing. But with one thing or another I’m finding time for fieldwork extremely tight and most days I do get a spare moment I tend to be out in my little corner of the property planting my shelterbelt which will, in a few years’ time, become one of the migrant hotspots in the whole of the county – one dreams! We also dug a small pond in the wettest corner of the field which, after 12 days, already has 27inches of water in it (this pic. was on day 6). No liner required!

The one bit of drawing I have done was from the semi-comfort of the near-completed extension. Curlew courtship seems to entail the male pursuing the female incessantly, occasionally tapping her on the rump with his bill whilst she threatens brutal retaliation and makes herself as unpleasant as possible. The little male is relentless yet she appears to give him no encouragement at all. How curlews actually manage to procreate given these circumstances is beyond me.

Off The Easel

2011-05-05T07:59:00.000-07:00

Having spent longer than anticipated doing the house (and still much to do) I’ve managed to shoe-horn a couple more commissioned pieces into the timetable. I am assured by She that decides these things that I shall be allowed more painting time in the coming weeks, so further progress on the waiting list ought to be apparent . . .

I worked on these two paintings contemporaneously, which helped to retain an element of freshness in both pieces, I think. Switching between the heat-soaked heather-clad summer moorlands and the crisp, clear wintertime scene of the seals and eiders made for interesting fluctuations in the artist’s mood. The seal painting was completed mainly at the new house which also meant ocassional assistance from youngest daughter Edie - that's her doing some underpainting in the photo;

The Grouse Moor – Acrylic on canvas, 34” x 26”

Seal Cove - Acrylic on canvas, 40” x 20”

Attack Of The Sharpie Marker

2011-03-09T09:32:00.000-08:00

Hail and Thunder storms last night and sub-zero temperatures the norm; winter seemingly setting back in again. Needing a springtime shot in the arm I flicked through a few sketchbooks from last year and happened upon a few of my usual suspects. I’ve been involved in various discussions on techniques with other artists and this had me looking back at the work I did last year using a ‘Sharpie’ marker pen and additional watercolour and I thought it about time to revisit this technique.

The use of a marker pen as the preliminary drafting tool immediately sets the tone for the work, creating (as it does) a mark quite unlike anything which occurs in nature, any aspiration one may have to render a ‘naturalistic’ image can be put firmly to one side. Closing this door, however, flings open many alternate possibilities. I find that sketching with the ‘Sharpie’ pen is a liberating process – my usual ambitions displaced temporarily, the drawings are, paradoxically, much more akin to the sketchbook work. In fact it occurs to me that, notwithstanding the medium, there seems to be a very direct link to the field drawings and the ‘finished’ work also echoes the philosophy embedded in the sketchbook; investigation and composition - a sense of time and place. The application of watercolour alters the perception again. Colour unites the composition and also harks back to the original observation – the interpretation of which finds solice in the hues.

“Divers, Hovers, Damsels and Midges", "Spring Eiders" and "Skua Family". . .

. . . Sharpie marker on mount board with watercolour applied:

Book Signing In Stromness

2011-01-19T05:21:00.000-08:00

I'll be signing (and maybe even scribbling inside a few) copies of my new book "Drawing & Painting Birds" at Wildscape Gallery, Stromness this coming Saturday, 22nd Jan. Between 2 - 5pm.

In typical marketing parlance; it will be first come first served - however if you want to avoid what would surely be immense disappontment, a cunning plan would be to buy the book from my blog and collect it on the Saturday (when you'll receive a refund for postage-paid).

The Gallery is at 126 Victoria Street - telephone: 01856 850678. I can be contacted on 07812 483123, should anyone feel the need.

Autumn Into Winter

2011-01-13T03:49:00.000-08:00

The past few months have been somewhat hectic, to say the least. In September we bought a small cottage in the Parish of Evie in the North West Mainland. It was clear the place would need work – just how much work we were only to find out later on. The following months we had the house completely re-plumbed and a new heating system installed based around our new Rayburn stove. We re-wired too. An extension was designed and is in the process of being constructed at the moment. It has been and still is a slog, but we are gradually getting there. When finished the cottage will give us the interior space we need – just!

However the move isn’t really about the enclosed rooms, but the outside space and the vistas we are now lucky to have. We have two small fields bounded by dry stone dykes and a handy garden/paddock area – a couple of acres in total. The first day I spent at the cottage on my own, I was met on the drive by a very smart little bird – red-backed shrike! If ever there was a sign that this was the right place to be, then surely to be greeted by this tidy little predator (one of my favourite birds) was it. I spent an hour or so watching the bird fly around our property, catching bees and being scolded by the local house sparrows and robins.

The drawings are an account of a few moments of magic on a gloriously warm and satisfying day.

The next month saw the season turn and with it an extremely early invasion from the north. Following the hundreds of siskins which flooded through the county were the Bohemians. Waxwings are eagerly anticipated in early winter and one bleak and dank morning I went seeking them out. Well, to be accurate, they came seeking me out. A morning dog-walk past the Fire-station was suddenly punctuated by the tinkling sound of waxwings. They swept in and over my head to settle in a sycamore 30 metres away – 37 of them. Taking the dog home I returned with camera and sketchbook and spent another hour trying to relocate them. But when I did, it was worth the effort. Trudging up Hillside Road in Stromness, I happened upon a bunch of birds murdering a cotoneaster hedge. A quick count revealed about 70 birds. I followed them up the road for a few minutes and then, as I waited and watched, a swarm of birds came from behind me, swamping the trees and shrubbery all around me – 300 pinky grey jewels, scoffing Rosa rugosa hips and whitebeam berries. I have never seen so many together – the image will stay with me for a long time.

An idea for a painting formulated but it was many weeks later that I finally brought the drawings together and made a few compositional sketches (blame the house renovations!!). The painting “Bohemians Among the Branches” recollects that moment as hundreds of birds filled the air and surrounding trees – a small satellite group of birds taking a wee break from gorging, assessing the immediate locale and preparing for the next foray into the gardens.

Bohemians Among the Branches

Acrylic on canvas, 24"x18"

Drawing & Painting Birds – New Book Release

2010-11-23T09:18:00.000-08:00

STOP PRESS

Drawing & Painting Birds has now been released from the publishers. All orders will be processed as promptly as possible - weather permitting!

Thank you all for your patience.

In April 2007 I was commissioned by the Crowood Press to write and illustrate a book about the portrayal of birds. It was to be instructional as well as, hopefully, informative and inspirational. The Publisher wanted the finished manuscript ready and delivered by October that same year, with a view to a January 2008 publication. It was never going to be an easy task, particularly as the book would have to sit alongside the seminal work “Drawing Birds” by the acclaimed artist and all-round top-bloke John Busby. In addition to this inhibiting and intimidating fact were the obvious problems associated with ‘teaching’ a subject which fundamentally relies on first-hand observation and dynamic interaction between tutor and student – especially in front of the subject matter. It caused many sleepless nights and jaw-grinding hours of angst. However, three years on and “Drawing & Painting Birds” is finally to be published.

Although that’s not to say the sleepless nights have stopped

The book relies extensively on illustrations to support the ideas therein and it was whilst addressing this point that I realised that exclusive use of my own work could make for an uninteresting repetition of style. So I went cap-in-hand to fellow artists in the hope that they could help to provide images for the book. Incredibly almost everyone I contacted offered their unequivocal assistance; and although I have included many of my own drawings, paintings and diagrams, there are also over 200 illustrations by some of the foremost artists of the genre. New acquaintances were made from some existing personal heroes and old friendships cemented throughout the three years of global communication during the composition of the book.

I would like to extend my unbridled gratitude to all the artists who provided such a sumptuous collection of work – indeed enough to fill at least another three volumes – which provided both regular entertainment (and distraction from the task of writing) as the visual delights teemed through my letterbox and populated my electronic mailbox.

Therefore, although I would hope the reader finds some worth in the text, I have no doubt it will be the artwork of these wonderful people which will captivate most of all. I count myself fortunate in the extreme to have secured the help of some of the very finest practitioners of their art. I can only hope and pray that my own scribbles included among the 420-odd illustrations do not look too out of place among the many sublime works which populate the 160 printed pages.

Drawing & Painting Birds is published by The Crowood Press on December 3rd, 2010. It is available directly from them www.crowood.com and, as they say; “from all good booksellers;” Waterstone’s, Amazon, WHSmith, etc, etc.

Signed copies are also available directly from me (please see the notification on the right >)

By way of a taster, here are a few sample images from the book:

Artwork by (in no particular order);

Robert Bateman

Ed Keeble

Alan Dalton

Beth Rosenkoetter

Juan Varela

Darren Woodhead

Paul Bartlett

Andrew Ellis

Katrina Van Grouw

Charles Tunnicliffe

John Busby

Barry Van Dusen

Debby Kaspari

Bruce Pearson

Nick Derry

John Threlfall

Frank Van Boxtel

Szabi Kokay

Paschalis Dougalis

Mike Woodcock

Arctic Skua - the Loveliest Bird

2010-08-02T15:47:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it’s the first day of Stromness Shopping Week and it was bound to be a beautiful day. By the evening I was ready for a breath of fresh air after being stuck in the gallery all day for the sale of one sodding card! £2.50 is not going to allow retirement any time soon. . . .

The weather was still very pleasant after dinner so I loaded the scope and tackle into the car and made for Yesnaby. Lugging the Nikon and the Velbon 7000 video tripod a mile and a half with satchel of art gear and sketchbook was well worth it as I a dark phase skua rises over the ridge to investigate me. I meander across to my favourite rock (a la Shirley Valentine), place my binoculars on the ground and, as I swing the scope of my shoulders there’s a ‘crack!’ – the scope’s weight has snapped the holding screw off the tripod quick-release plate – oh super! I know it’s my own fault for being an idle sod and carrying the scope attached to the tripod, but the realisation only serves to darken my mood. The birds are too far away for binoculars – drawing through, at any rate, but I have a quick scan of the scene and locate a pale-headed skua. I’m pretty sure what it is but I have to get the scope hand-held onto the bird – a fully fledged arctic skua youngster! Now let’s no longer mince words about this bird – if arctic skuas were the commonest bird on the planet they would still grace any orni-porno site, as it is they are looking down the barrel of permanent oblivion from these isles, which makes this sight every so slightly welcome.

But the scope’s knackered. I try to bind the thing to the tripod with the strap which is fairly successful until; I realise that in doing so I’ve also fastened the barrel focus tightly too – smashing! Off it comes and I realise there’s no way to make it sit. But, by balancing the scope on the tripod head and moving it ever so carefully I can peer through the eyepiece and at my baby – gorgeous! I make a quick drawing in tone and just as I have got the hang of using this delicately balanced rig, a fecking dog-walker comes over the brow and straight through the territory. Fecking w@nker – but my birds are immediately at him and his mutt and I barely contain a laugh as this burly lad screams ‘fuck-off, fuck-off’ whilst waving his arms about at the dive-bombing skuas. Tit!

But it does give me the chance to see the chick can fly; albeit not with the sleek and graceful lines and curves s/he will (hopefully) achieve in the fullness of time. However it drops down behind the ridge and out of view. I’m just about to pack in when I notice one of the parents nearby. Again using the balancing act I train the scope and make a couple of drawings when from nowhere, the fog comes rolling over the hill obscuring just about everything. Ah - the joys of a warm day at the coast.

Then the chick is there again. And it’s doing something I’ve never seen – plucking at vegetation and eating it. Most curious and something I need to read up on. It’s hunched and shuffling gait recall its close relatives the gulls and it begs from its parent similarly; tapping on the bill in expectation. Then everything’s gone – the fog is total. I’m left with a trudge back to the car, dripping sketchbook and ruined tripod with barely a drawing in the book. But absolutely elated!

The sketches show a dark-phase arctic skua and then the same bird observed through the thickening fog, having relocated slightly. The studio piece is a composition using the fieldwork of the dark-phase/light-phase skua pair.

The following day I was determined to make amends for the debacle with the scope and, having replaced the quick-release plate, transported the scope and tripod separately. Entering the skua territory today was like being on a different planet; gone had all the gloom and mood of the previous evening (enchanting though that was), to be replaced by bright, warming sunlight and something I rarely have to contend with in Orkney (this year at least) – heat haze!

Fortunately my birds are growing accustomed to my hunched shuffling through their space and, as soon as I flop down on ‘the rock’ they seem to settle; the dark bird coming to rest not 30 metres from me. I intend to make a few investigative drawings, but my eye and pencil seem content to enjoy the one pose this bird has settled into and soon I have made a colour study describing the immediate scene.

Scanning the moor for alternative viewpoints I chance upon a youngster, then another; again one bird remains fairly motionless and allows involved study for 20 minutes or so. The light breeze occasionally rearranges the bird’s plumes and it flicks away the midges from its face.

A yowl of anger makes me turn and one of the neighbouring skuas takes off after a great black-back which has taken the wrong course. It sees the large gull off and helter-skelters back to its resting place among the sedges, calluna and cross-leaved heath. Then I see the cause of its worry; another fledgling – three in total in this small area. This is excellent news considering the skuas’ main provider, the arctic tern, has had such a terrible season and very few remain to be parasitized. I watch the adult and the youngster for the next half hour, all the while scribbling in my sketchbook.

The sketches are of the adults and youngsters:

The studio painting is derived directly from the first colour study I made:

From The Field to The Studio

2010-07-04T07:05:00.000-07:00

I spent some time during June continuing the theme of light as a mood and not merely a way of illuminating a painting. The members of the local eider population are accessible and compliant models for drawing and painting and also photographing; they are powerful in structure yet soft in plumage and offer much for the artist to contemplate. The auks – guillemots, razorbills and puffins – have similar characteristics with the added complexity of highlighted darks and shadowed whites.

"The Ledge" is a painting involving interaction on the cliffs and deals with highlight and shadows falling on disparate hues and textures.

There is always a dichotomy regarding the depiction of puffins; the well-known clown of the cliffs and the fierce little predator living life on the edge. Of course the puffin knows nothing of these labels and characterisations – it is what it is and it does what it does. This puffin painting is an attempt to de-anthropomorphise this species and to see them in terms of design and composition.

Living in Orkney, I’m never far from awesome and inspirational land and seascapes. In certain weather conditions however, the urge to work plein air is curtailed by the knowledge that a force 8 could see paper, paints and artist taking to the air and, ultimately, to the sea. The camera was invented for such conditions . . .

Interpretation of one’s photographs is as much a challenge of mood-setting as that of value and hue application.

Once again bird-survey work has been a major occupation this spring and has eaten into a lot of available sketching and painting time. It does, however, ensure that I get out into the field in all weathers and at the extremes of the day. This brings me into contact with various birds in different light and weather and each bring unique stimuli to the painter of the natural world.

This common sandpiper was calling in alarm as I entered his water-margin territory on the Loch of Swannay in the north-west Mainland during a daytime survey of the loch. His melodious calls echoed around the locale and were dueted by those from his mate who stood-off a short distance away on a low dyke. The mare’s tails are just emerging and create a low pre-historic forest through which I see him.

One evening I punctuated my surveys in Birsay and detoured to the Burgar Hill moorland nature reserve where a pair of red-throated divers had a nest. As I stopped the car I noticed a ringed-plover scuttling around and he was quickly joined by his mate. Like tiny clockwork toys, they ran, stopped, ran across the stony and bleak ground. The rain and overcast sky brought a certain harmony to the scene; muting and merging the colours.

nd then there are those moments of fortune. Already booked on the ferry for my only off-Mainland surveys, I get news of a red-necked phalarope on a tiny marsh. Once surveys were out of the way, I ventured towards Ness, the north tip of Shapinsay where a deeply scoured tractor track leads to a typha-fringed pond and almost immediately I spot the diminutive wader swimming across the water, picking at insects and other morsels on the meniscus. From time to time the skittish nature of the mainly juvenile redshanks forces them airborne and the phalarope joins them, more out of politeness than fear. It is the first bird back on the lochan and resumes his business long before the larger birds drop back out of the sky. This painting is a recollected scene during that afternoon; the male red-necked phalarope scooting his way across the water whilst a juvenile redshank ignores him completely.

Some Effects of Light

2010-05-30T13:01:00.000-07:00

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been fascinated by trying to portray strong light and, as ever when the sun shines (and I’m allowed to sneak off on my own) I head off to the low cliffs around Skiba Geo; terns, fulmar and eider are plentiful. Visits to this part of West Mainland are usually timed to coincide with survey work I am doing this season, during which today I had 15 eider nests in a 50x50 metre quad, two of which were actually touching tails as they incubated!

I’m interested in how light affects the subjects, not only by the direction from which it illuminates them, but also by the local atmosphere through which it travels. For instance, the first painting shows a group of three eiders seen from fairly close quarters (less than 30 metres) which are almost flood-lit, from directly above and from the left; the atmosphere is clear. The second piece shows a similar arrangement of birds but, besides being lit from above/behind, there is the sense that the atmosphere has a certain gravitas, formed by the relatively dense moisture content in the air and the distance from which the birds are seen. The quality of light in this second piece is very different from that in the first; having a solidity and weight (and maybe hue?) to it lacking in the first.

In the two arctic tern paintings, I am trying to deal with the light, but also with the incredible subtlety of these birds’ plumage. The greys are extremely changeable due to the angle of light and shade and almost shimmer as the birds move; very beautiful and challenging to paint.

The last painting relies very much on the lessons from the previous pieces. I used field drawings and photographs in the making of this painting (as in all the above, too) and paid particular attention to the way the different textures and colours of the birds’ feathers reflected and/or absorbed light; how they integrated hues from their surrounds and expressed a variety of these and how the slabs of rock reacted to the strength of light.

BBC Wildlife Magazine Wildlife Artist of the Year

2010-05-18T10:32:00.000-07:00

Being a wildlife artist is a fundamentally solitary occupation – birds are easily disturbed and working alone reduces the potential for spooking the subjects – so I enter a few competitions from time to time as a way of keeping in touch with the outside world, and to let others know what I’m up to.

Earlier in the month I heard that two of my paintings had been shortlisted for the “BBC Wildlife Magazine Wildlife Artist of the Year Award” and would I kindly take them down to Wiltshire for judging. This would have cost an absolute fortune, but fortunately my good friend Nick Derry also had two paintings shortlisted and his parents were taking those to the judging. They agreed to take mine, too. The only problem was, I didn’t actually have any of the paintings that were selected; I had sold them last year! So after begging them back from their rightful owners I sent them on to Nick’s parents who took them to the judging yesterday (Monday, 17th May).

Last night I found out I had won in my category of ‘World Birds’!!!!
Here are the two paintings which were selected;

The glorious May has also continued to thrill on the birding front. The dotterels which I was sketching last week were still around into the weekend and I felt the urge to make a colourful composition of them with some wheatears, using my marker pen and colour wash style. I quite like the spontaneity this approach brings to the painting, but I can see it wouldn’t be everyone’s cuppa.

Then again, I’m not doing it for everyone – I’m doing it for me!

Following the long-staying dotterel came another splendidly exotic bird – hoopoe. This Mediterranean beauty found a pile of topsoil on a farm in Finstown to be just the ticket for the past few days and I spent a couple of hours making these drawings as the bird sifted through topsoil in search of beetles and grubs and then as it took forty-winks.

Pintails to Dotterels; An Orkney Year Begins

2010-05-13T13:03:00.000-07:00

The past few months have been a blur with illustration work and commissions taking up a ridiculous chunk of my life, but from time to time I’ve allowed myself the indulgence of sneaking off to do some field study. Ducks come in many shapes and sizes but they are always challenging (and occasionally rewarding) to work from. An unprecedented number of pintails congregated at the Lock of Brockan during the early part of the year and, although very distant and quite wary, I managed a few sheets of drawings from my concealed vantage point in a low ditch 100 metres across the water.

February also brought waxwings to Stromness; somewhat later than is usual for this Scandinavian visitor. The suggestion that their homelands were providing a glut of berries on which they feed, encouraging them to stay in the north for longer seemed logical and a small party of four adults and a juvenile finally arrived at a time when we could normally be expecting them to be making the return trip. For a few days they brightened up a grey and cold February – a couple even making it into my own garden; an exhilarating sight. This watercolour is of one of the adults in an ash tree.

Two long-eared owls also decided that they would behave extremely co-operatively and showed beautifully in a bare-limbed sycamore tree in St Margaret’s Hope, South Ronaldsay. I made a few sheets of drawings and paintings on a freezing afternoon which culminated in this watercolour of one of the birds. It is destined to appear elsewhere at a later date (to be continued) . . .

I also started working in a slightly different manner recently. To try and keep a stronger element of drawing in my colour work, I resorted to a black ink marker pen; a tool which makes lines so far removed from anything in nature that it renders the pursuit of ‘realism’ obsolete. This allows me to concentrate more on exploring the structure and character of the birds, their behaviour and interaction and the elements of pure design in the work. And, although all the birds in the pictures are based on direct observation and drawings from life, they take on a fresh and contrasting personality through this medium.

May – the most exciting month of the year! Long absent friends return to breed, a few special winter visitors linger on and every now and then there’s the odd VIP who decide to drop into the isles on their route further north.
Last year I finally managed to connect with very long-lost friends; dotterels and, checking the ‘Rare Bird Alert’ distribution map last week I noticed there was a healthy sprinkling of these diminutive and exotic waders throughout Britain. Calling all ‘Orkbirders’ to arms I felt there was a really good chance of getting this species again. Hmmm – except I forgot Sally and I were already destined to make a weekend trip south. While I was enjoying a luxurious whirlpool bath in the hotel room a text message beeps through on the mobile – ‘Dotterels in Tankerness – NOW!’

Oh Shagggitttt!!! – not-a-fecking-gain! I know how lucky I was last year in connecting with this, my second favourite species, and were it not for the highly organised Orkney Rare Bird Alerter Mr Paul Higson, I would never have seen the seven in Tankerness in May 2009, but here he is on my mobile giving me the best news at the worst time. Ah well, nothing I can do but enjoy the short break and try to ignore the weekend’s football results.

On my return to Orkney I immediately check on the status of dotterel. None around! Anyhow life must go on (apparently) so off to the gallery I trudged. Halfway through packing a couple of paintings, I get a phone-call from Eric Meek – Mr. RSPB; ‘Tim, I’m watching these dotterels now – they’re in Tankerness’. Oh baby, baby – I hastily flick the ‘Closed’ sign in the window, chuck the‘scope, bins, sketchbook and a St Christopher in the car and a license-risking drive across the county puts me smack in front of the perfect foursome – 2 males and 2 sparkling females. The drawings don’t do anything like justice – but they are a viable account of the afternoon.

Birds & Beasts In The Depth Of Winter

2009-12-27T06:09:00.000-08:00

Almost Christmas; another milestone ready to disappear into oblivion through the rear-view mirror as we hurtle forward through time at excruciating speed. Where the hell has this year gone to???

In three months time we’ll be celebrating out first anniversary in the Gallery and, I suppose the fact that we’re quite happy to continue with the business must mean we’ve gotten something out of it – albeit not much financially – but it has been a great way to meet folk (locals and visitors alike), and to exchange birdy tales. The last month has been very quiet, but has at least given me a bit of breathing space within which to concentrate on fulfilling a few commissions gleaned during the warmer months.

The peregrine portrait is a diversion from my usual work; I don’t tend to make straightforward portraits much nowadays, but this piece presented many challenges. I made several false starts to the painting until I found myself in accord with the way the piece was heading. The blocked-in feel of the background was difficult for me to achieve, not technically, but I had to stop myself going back in there and layering more detail and texture on. I thought the result fairly successful.

When a very nice couple came into the shop they seemed more interested in discussing the distribution of species (rather than my preferred topic; the re-distribution of wealth – theirs to me!) and they left with a smile and a promise to return at the end of their holiday. Hmmm – everyone always says they’ll be back. They won’t!
But they did return a week later, buzzing with the experience of connecting with a nice flock of snow buntings over at Mull Head. I’d been kicking a lovely snow bunt along the path at Ness Point on my twice-daily walks with mad-dog Donnie for about a week too and showed them the sketches I’d made one morning. Good move. We discussed a commission, sizes and prices.

The ensuing watercolour is one of my favourite pieces of work from the past few months and it was enthusiastically received. The returning cheque was more than enthusiastically received by the paupers of Stromness (us).

An unfortunate incident presented me with yet another corpse to study from;

A teacher at Edie’s school had noticed a bird being flushed a short way by a passing car and, as she went to see where it ended up, re-flushed it and it flew directly into a neighbour’s window. The house-owners came out and identified it as a young curlew and I was telephoned to collect it, if I wanted it. Walking up the drive I could see the bird draped over a window ledge. I could also see it was a woodcock. Straight home and to work.

The second was a beautiful ‘alba’ barn owl – a rarity up here – that had been fund in the South Parish of South Ronaldsay. My good friend Paul Higson was good enough to collect the bird and I made a start on a study. I didn’t, however. Feel I was doing the bird justice so I curtailed my work and popped the body in the freezer for another day.

It’s always good practice for any artist to tackle subjects which take them out of their own personal comfort zone and commissions often do this. Up here, agriculture is a way of life and most families have a connection with the land and livestock. The sheep are north country Cheviots and were owned by the father of a friend who wanted to surprise his dad on Christmas.

The hares and lapwing painting is a similar scenario; a husband’s secret pressie for his wife (added pressure n the painter, knowing a marriage could be at stake!)

Other self-motivated pieces from recently are the brown trout painting and this observational piece of a local hooded crown on the beach

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

American Plovers, Vireo and a Sandhill Crane

2009-10-03T14:28:00.000-07:00

Wow! Autumn is always eagerly anticipated by all birders; the promise of north European migrants being flipped slightly westwards by easterly winds and onto our isles, there to be savoured and enjoyed, is the stuff of dreams. But we rely on the right conditions; these have to be conducive for the birds setting off on their migratory routes south through Scandinavia, then for easterly winds to blow them squint towards us and finally for precipitation of some sort to force them to land once they are in proximity. All we have to do then is go out and find where they are! It’s a fine plan. Sometimes though, it doesn’t work out like that.

This autumn for instance, the prevailing weather systems have been continually and aggressively from the west and, although we have had a few classic drift migrants (barred warbler etc) flounder to our shores, most have managed to make their way south, unhindered.

But what Mother Nature takes with one hand, she appears to have more than compensated with the other. Following on the kite-tails of the last hurricane, the airflow has been almost incessantly from the west and with it have come visitors not seen in these parts for many-a-year. American Golden Plovers are frequent if unreliable tourists to Britain – we’ve got at least three, two adults and a juvenile, merrily swanking around out li’l ol isles and showing the local greeny-yellow guys just what the meaning of ‘smart’ is. Just this week our near-neighbours in Shetland have been playing host to dapper chappies such as buff-bellied pipit and the mega-rare Veery; two deciding Zetland was as good a place as any to spend a wee break. I found a Pectoral Sandpiper whilst taking mad-dog Donny out for his morning constitutional along the Stromness golf course and just yesterday local birdwatchers were thrilled to get the call from our own Rare Bird Alerter, Paul ‘Mega’ Higson that he had cunningly enticed a Red-eyed Vireo to reveal itself from a Tankerness Plantation by ‘pishing it out’. This is the first record for Orkney!

However the prize for the bird that really captured the imagination has to go to the Sandhill Crane. With just two records for Britain in 1981 and 1991 (Shetland and Fair Isle) and an archaic one from Cork in 1905 (shot), Orcadians were delighted to have this leggy stunner strut her stuff around the stubble fields of South Ronaldsay. Although it almost wasn’t to be.

Y’see, the bird happened to drop into a field in the middle of nowhere and the local farmer, not caring too much about which species of wildlife wanted to share his land, just let the bird alone and got on with is own work. For ten days! After nearly two weeks of nodding courteously at this strutting wonder, he elected to find out what it was. Several interconnecting phonecalls ensued resulting in Mega’ Higson chucking brother Mark in the back of his saloon and venturing to the South Parish, fully expecting a Common Crane at best, heron more likely. On his arrival, and after checking his state of awakedness, he identified the bird as a Sandhill Crane and subsequently fell in a ditch. He may still be there!

The bird has now earned its place in British Birding lore; hundreds of enthusiastic folk having made the not-inconsiderable journey north (some less-so south-bound from Zetland and a few from Denmark and further afield) and almost all having connected satisfactorily with our friend from the west.

Immediately prior to the first of the pioneering birding troops arriving, I had the good fortune to spend a couple of hours in the early morning of the 23rd of September, all alone, just enjoying the tranquil beauty of a splendid bird, lost but contentedly feeding in a stubble field on a farm in South Ronaldsay, Orkney, watched and ignored by a posse of great black-backed gulls and a couple of lapwings.

And this is a painting worked from the sketches which I have published as a limited edition print. I think it encapsulates the essence of that first encounter with a superb and enigmatic bird – one I’ll certainly never forget.

As Plain As Black and White

2009-09-30T00:44:00.000-07:00

The summer is moving inexorably into autumn, with winter peeking around the corner at every turn. The vibrancy of colour and clamourations of the seabird cities are a fresh but passing memory and my thoughts are turning to darker days.
All the energy and effort of working towards the Summer Sketchbook exhibition has been quite draining and in antithethis to this I wanted to work much larger and without the constraint of colour (this may sound curious, but colour can be restrictive - certainly to me). I embarked upon a series of drawings from round about and further afield.
Charcoal is a wonderful medium - instant and unfussy. The drawings are approximately 3 feet across.

A Summer Sketchbook - An Exhibition

2009-08-25T15:36:00.001-07:00

During the spring and summer of 2009 I was employed by the RSPB to monitor the breeding birds of the north isles of Orkney. I was living out of my campervan; no family ties, kids neither demanding attention, nor dog walking to do, I was alone in unusual lands ripe for exploration. The work entailed visiting the breeding areas during the early morning and at evening time, thus leaving the bulk of the daylight hours for watching the birds. And for drawing them. Occasionally I would seek out new, unexplored areas, but more often I would return to my survey sites and observe my subjects at a more leisurely pace and from a less intrusive distance. This is when I got to see the birds just ‘being themselves’; I really started to get to know them just a wee bit. I also accumulated further data which contributed to a more complete assessment of the birds’ breeding status.

When the opportunity to stage an exhibition was offered, I turned to the many sketchbooks full of scribbles, written notes and colour studies. Re-visiting these images, sometimes several weeks after the event, allowed me to take a new and fresh look at the drawings and the birds which I had portrayed. In some cases I felt the original drawing which I had made in situ was relevant and I reworked the piece only slightly (if at all), adding little to the source image; other pieces, although derived from an encounter with an individual bird or experience in the field, have benefitted from being able to glance back from distance; the salient elements of the experience distilled and refined somewhat. Almost all of the paintings are annotated with the notes made at the scene of the original observation, placing a particular event in time and location. This is my way of interpreting the visual delights of an Orkney Summer.

Here is a selection of works destined for the exhibition. Incidentally, I am going to be publishing a limited edition commemorative catalogue of the exhibition. It will be A5 landscape, 32 pages in colour and will be limited to 50 copies signed and with a unique inscribed vignette. If anyone's interested and would like to reserve a copy, they will be £12.50 +p&p.
Please email (tim.wootton@tiscali.co.uk) to order.

2009-06-08T15:58:00.000-07:00

Gulp – doesn’t time just whizz by?!
Already halfway through 2009 and barely an update to the blog (sorely missed, I’ll bet) but, unlike previously when I had been trapped in the studio, this time is because I have been out-a-doors most of the time. My contract with RSPB was renewed just at the point when time was plentiful but cash was, as ever, in short supply. So the surveys start but almost simultaneously, we get the opportunity to take on the lease for a shop on the local high street (well, the only street, really!) and we then find ourselves having a full-time job each and in addition having to set up a new venture and provide stock for it.
So, many hours of painting slates, framing prints and nicking paintings off the walls at home and we open the shop. For one week.
Then we have to take a trip south to see mum (already scheduled) and manage to miss the most potentially lucrative week of the year; Easter.
Anyway – stuff happens and you just have to get on with it, don’t you?
Working for the RSPB this year is somewhat different as it entails plotting up on the North Isles for several days at a time. Luckily we have recently invested some of our overdraft in an aging motorhome (more of which elsewhere, at another time) which gives me the perfect base from which to work and also a haven to return to. It also functions perfectly as a mobile bird-sketching hide; something which added an extra reason for me fetching the van all the way from Glasgow one wintry night early this year.
Anyway the trip to see mum worked out well – particularly the return jaunt up the west coast; camping in the van at Loch Ness, Fort William and Ullapool (three highlights of many scenic eye-poppers). The Ullapool stop being spent at the campsite at Ardmair – a wonderfully evocative place, more so for me because it was here that I first ever came to Scotland – and fell in love with the place irrevocably. A few things had changed in the intervening 26 years (!) but the place still holds all the mystique and romance that I felt when a wee nipper. We saw an otter in the bay, too – another old friend from west coast trips. Talking of old friends, whilst at mum’s she ferreted out an old painting that I did many years ago (1987 to be precise, when I was 24 years old. Jeeps, I can’t even remember being 24 years old!). It’s of sanderlings and I know for a fact that I had only ever seen one before – and that at Broomhill Flash, Wombwell in South Yorkshire. Anyway, pride aside, here it is;

Back in Orkney and straight into the RSPB job. Always wonderful to get out to the isles, just occasionally being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes a lot of heartache. I’ve never seen a snowy owl in the wild and when one turned up in the county I was buzzing. But the bird (a young female) spent several weeks playing with my head; it was seen in two different locations not ten minutes from my home in Stromness several times over a period of four weeks, and each time I succeeded in missing the bird. It then turned up on the Island of Shapinsay – not only one of the islands I am working on as part of my contract, but also the island we lived on when we first moved to Orkney. And where was it seen, this be-speckled white northern beauty? Sitting on an old fencepost, in a field at the farm that I used to bloody-well own!!!! Talk about taking the Michael!
Eventually, however, I received a call. The call. Snowy owl showing well in a field in Holm (pronounced Ham, up here). Only 25 miles but starting to get dark and I know Sally’s not going to be happy with my suggestion that I abandon the kids’ bathtime, and the evening meal, erm, and her and go and look at a bloody bird!.
“Fine – just GO!” she suggested. “But if you don’t effing see the effing thing, don’t effing come back!!!” she quietly advised.
I exchange the Freelander for a teleporter and zap into the field within half an hour (don’t forget, not only does Orkney have no motorways, there isn’t even one metre of dual carriageway in the county, so travel can be a tad laborious at times). Not tonight though. And there’s the owl. But it’s not the little minx that’s been toying with my birdy emotions all the while; nope, it’s a pristine male bird, doing all he can to look like a white feed-bucket beside a square concrete strainer.
A very pleasant and most satisfying 45 minutes of drawing later and one happy chappie on the road back home. No dinner, I grant you; but fulfilled in every other sense.

So, having got a ‘life-tick’, birding was bound to be straight forward from here-on in. Yes? Nope!
Just one more species was to send my dials spinning before the end of May – and this one was a really old friend; one that I saw only ever-so briefly 30 years ago, it standing in a ploughed field, 200 metres away from me, somewhere near Hoyland (I think – the memory is somewhat shaky).
I’m on the north isles – Shapinsay to be quite precise (yep – wrong time again) and the phone bleeps with a text ‘dotterel in South Ronaldsay’. ‘Jayzzusss Feckkkk-ittt’ I scream, frightening the curlews. By the time I’ve done the surveys and caught the boat back, these birds have long gone – probably mincing about on some upland tundra hilltop enjoying their curiously inverted summer nuptials.
I write them off, thinking I’ve done without them for thirty years, I can manage another thirty; no bother. I then ‘do the math’ as our Am. cuzzins say and image me-self at seventy-six, chasing a bunch of fancy plovers across a wheat field. Hmmm.
But, once again, the phone goes into sex-mode. Top birder and all round good-egg Paul (who runs the bird alert service in the county), knowing my personal plight with these birds has arranged for a small party of seven dotterel to conveniently land in an open field, right by the airport in Tankerness, and here he is giving me the tip-off.
What he’s unaware of, of course, is the fact that I’ve been out all morning and half the afternoon, wasting ‘quality-time’ and fecking-expensive fuel looking for – erm – dotterel.
Aaaarrrgghhh! I replace the handset very carefully, knowing I am in grave danger of ripping the whole communication device off the wall.
I glanced at darling wife whose face told something of a story, so I sulked for half an hour, at which point she told me to “Piss off and don’t come back!”.
Well, I thought, this an opportunity too good to miss and with her 'blessing' I sped off to the airport. No fecking sign - Brrastid! Quick call to Mr Higson who told me to go to the house with the washing (?!) I did and was there allowed wonderful access to their land and superb, if distant views of the birds.
I realise they are fairly settled, and are having difficulty leaving the site ‘cos of the wind, so I settle down for a session. I hear a cardoor slam and three very perky dotterel-spotters in high spirits tramp across to me 'Ssshhhhh!! - shut the duck-up' - I rather irritably snarl - but too late and the birds are offski. I sit jaw-clenched and white knuckled as apologies spill forth, but I decide to pack up, go the house to offer my thanks and phone Sal to see if I would be getting any dinner.
“They're back”, Ian has chased me to the car. I phone Sal back and plead for a little more time. Strangely the line goes dead. Hmmm, must be out of battery, I think - so go back to the dotterels for another hour and a half, during which time they’re harassed by a cock lapwing (who had a nest approximately four miles away); they attempt to continue their migration, but the wind just keeps blowing them back, so settled back down in the field. They were still there when I left at six o'clock.
I thought I'd better check if I still had a marriage to go home to. The jury's still out . . .

A few field drawings and a ‘finished’ piece from the same;

Some other stuff from ‘the field’ over the past few weeks;

Stuck In The Studio - No Bad Thing!

2009-02-02T05:06:00.000-08:00

I haven’t had much time to get out and draw over the past month or so. The adverse weather combined with the extreme dearth of daylight hours has meant that any artistic endeavours have been studio-based. Fortunately I don’t have to go far to find inspiration as our house is a waterfront property with red-breasted merganser, eiders, shags and gulls swimming past the kitchen door.

And the weather is always interesting. Our property, like many in Stromness, has flooded in the past. When there is a combination of extreme weather conditions; high tide, low barometric pressure and a strong south-easterly blow amalgamate to push water into the Haven where it has nowhere else to go. The water rises and the breakers come rolling in. These are tense times and we watch both the sea and the clock to check when we are highest risk and the subsiding tide and/or a reduction in wind strength are greeted thankfully. Most of the time though, we can just enjoy the natural spectacle of wind whipping whitecaps of spray and foam onto greeny-grey peaks of saltwater; the gulls hanging and driving against the force of the air, the waterbirds seemingly oblivious to the incongruity of the climate.

Two of my best friends have been pontificating over what should adorn their newly refurbished living room wall and, having finally made a decision, I was summoned to the ‘Old Island’ of South Ronaldsay to discuss a panting and take some photographs. A favourite place is Harrabrough Head and I make my way across the fields to the clifftop. I was amazed to find over a thousand fulmar already on the cliffs and pairing off – this is the first time I’ve seen fulmar here this early, although in the Western Isles they are known as Christmas Gulls because of their propensity to return to the breeding cliffs early. It was a gorgeous day, a stiff breeze as sharp as a knife coming off Scapa Flow and a light of Narnian brightness. The walk along the cliffs to The Cathedral served to remind me of why I moved to this remote part of the British Isles and my quick snaps for landscape reference were adequate for the job.
All over Christmas and into the New Year I worked on the large canvas and finally delivered the painting to Terry & Ingrid just a day before he was due back at sea fishing the waters around Rockall, Iceland and Shetland.

I have been invited to contribute to a Wildlife & Sporting exhibition at The Jerram Gallery, Dorset so a few ideas for paintings which had been lying dormant for a while have had a bit of life breathed into them. One in particular was a divergence from my usual work which, since I moved to Orkney at the beginning of the millennium, has been almost entirely based on encounters with nature up here. In our previous lives, Sally and I had the run of a tenanted 30 acre smallholding and one of our favourite aspects of the property was the moor; an area of rough upland pasture, giving way to banks of fragrant gorse then birch, oak, sycamore woodland where chicken-of-the-woods grows. There are badgers, three species of deer and, of course, foxes.
With the painting “A Heavy Fall: Red Fox” I was confronted with the problem of harmonising an essentially warm-coloured subject (the fox) with the predominantly cool hues of the snowscape background. I also wanted to create a sense of silence and stillness within the painting. There are in fact very few rufus tones in the fox’s coat; the effect being created through contrast between the grey-blue background.

I have also been asked to make a couple of sheets of sketches for a client in Holland. These are always fun to do and they allow me to go, through my imagination, back to the woodlands of Yorkshire where I was brought up.

The long-eared owl drawings have also been re-visited and I decided to make a larger, more involved painting. I was particularly interested in making simple marks on the canvas and not getting bogged down in superfluous detail. The resulting painting is a study in concealment. I have made no attempt to hide the owl, per se, but have tried to use the owl’s natural cryptic plumage to resist an immediate reveal.

But back closer to home for the next three pieces.
The shelduck painting is one which I thought I had completed in 2008 but I realised there were certain issues which I felt I had to iron out before exhibiting the piece. I’m fairly happy that the painting works ok now.
Eiders are fabulous birds and I’m lucky to see these from the house on a daily basis. We have just had to endure another bout of winter storms and keeping our 200 year old house warm is expensive, but the effect this weather has on the artist’s psyche is immeasurable. I’m constantly inspired to try and capture something of the power and awe these winter storms have as well as showing how wonderfully adapted the birds which live in this habitat are.

The fulmar painting follows a similar theme. A fresh, face-stinging morning walk with the dog leaves my ears ringing and my finger-ends throbbing with the returning blood, but I am straight onto a canvas and the basic colours are blocked in within minutes. The whole process of making the painting takes a couple of days, but the sensation of being on the ocean with them is easy for me to recreate in my own mind’s eye - I just open the kitchen door and take a buffeting walk on the pier.

2008-11-29T09:48:00.000-08:00

The year seems to be rushing to a close at an incredible rate. Just a couple of weeks ago I was recounting some of the summertime events – now I find myself grateful for the brightly glowing coals in the open fire, whilst starting to reflect on the year - and the year’s birds.

Orkney is a pretty small collection of rocks situated off the North coast of Scotland but we are graced with some of the most fantastic landscapes and open-sea vistas. And because of our geographical location, erroneously migrant birds regularly find themselves castaway on our not-so deserted islands and, although we have only a score or so regularly active birdwatchers, we also have recently developed a rather effective networking system linking sightings and locations. Anyone with access to the internet can receive an alert whenever rare or unusual species are located. This means two things; folk interested in birds get to know what’s about and where and ‘finders’ have an efficient way to tell others of their success. It breeds a kind of self-propelling birding euphoria.

We have had some really notable birds throughout the year, including a superb white-billed (yellow-billed) diver which, not only has spent the whole summer here, but also appears to be settling down for the winter, too! Rustic and Cretschzmar’s Buntings; rare pipits, warblers and wagtails; and a smattering of gulls and waders. I also found a splendid dark-phase honey buzzard.

But the birds which really caused a stir throughout the county were the waxwings. Certainly not rare, but they are very charismatic these little visitors come from the north. It appears they have had a decent breeding season in Scandinavia and hundreds of these pinky-grey bohemians have descended on and percolated through the British Isles. My first encounter was when a flock of eighteen birds came off the sea and into Stromness, almost taking my head off in the process, their high-pitched ringing-trill calls notifying me of their approach seconds before I saw them. A couple of dozen stayed for a few weeks and their confiding nature meant that I could make close-up field studies, often without the aid of binoculars.

Another uncommon visitor also turned up within a stone’s-throw of my house. A breathless phone-call alerted me to the whereabouts of this nocturnal hunter, snoozing away the last of the daylight in an ancient sycamore just fifty yards from my doorstep. A swift scan of the lower trunk revealed the bird, cryptically marked though it was. Although the last time I saw one of these was several years ago at Denaby Ings, South Yorkshire, the first thing I did having located the bird was set off back down the path to the house to collect Sally and the Nikon scope. Sal doesn’t waste much time bird-watching (unlike some in the family) but she is fanatical about owls, and this is one species she’s never seen – long-eared owl. We stayed and watched the owl, me making a few thumbnail sketches in the near-dark, until the bird had finally had enough and departed its roost for the nocturnal hunt.
Although the bird didn’t return to the same tree the day after, I managed to relocate it in a small copse just a couple of hundred metres further east. Over the next few days I had several memorable encounters with this terrific bird and had the opportunity to make some drawings of it. This series of sketches culminated in a small and expressive painting, inspired not only by my experiences with the bird, but also because it happened to be Sally’s birthday and, as usual, I had to rely on my last-minute ingenuity rather than conscientious forward planning to get me out of potentially hot water!

The realisation that winter is really upon us was finally compounded this week with several inches of snow falling and, in places, staying for a day or two. Purple sandpipers are scuttling along the foreshore in company with starlings (surely waders in disguise) and turnstones. The resident eiders have recently been joined by the long-tailed ducks, having returned from Arctic places of reproduction, and are frolicking around the bays of our Isles; male red-breasted mergansers are bobbing to each other and their mates and goldeneye drakes blurrily shine turquoise-white as they dive in the cold, clear waters around our pier. A first winter Iceland gull appears to be just as at home at the harbour as it was in Greenland, where it was hatched as a chick less than 20 weeks ago. This northern youngster also looks to have settled into this new habitat just as well as the white-billed diver did at the beginning of the year.

End of Summer

2008-10-10T15:16:00.000-07:00

Our annual holiday is always timed carefully.
Sally usually combines it with collecting something from 'South' (which could mean anywhere from John O'Groats to Adelaide) and so this year Sal and I took the kids to Yorkshire to see their 'other' granny - my mum, Hazel.
I never do bird lists, but I thought I'd mention a few of the raptors; from the 1st two hours of the drive (northern Scotland) were; Sparrowhawk (with prey - starling), common buzzards, goshawk, osprey (x2), kestrel. I didn't get any of the usual 'Orkney' raptors (Short-eared owl, merlin, peregrine or the harriers) as I got the morning boat from Stromness harbour - a drive of approx. 2 minutes from the house, straight through the town.We spent two days in South Yorkshire then travelled across to Manchester where we were collecting our new Ebay purchase, (curtesy of darling wife's internet habit) the trailer tent! Fortunately it was in better than perfect condition and we merrily slooshed up the M6 back towards Scotland. We camped in Ayr where there just happened to be a Race meeting on (lost all my hard-earned, but had a great day), then a further two in Glen Nevis - stunning. Cadjoled the whole family to walk up part of Ben Nevis but as soon as the pub was spotted, we all agreed the midges were too much and made a hasty detour. Amazingly, however, following light refreshments they decided to continue skywards, which we did for another hour or so. Great walk and an extremely steep descent brought us back along the riverside walk to the campsite and 'home'.
Had 2 red kites on the last leg, north of Inverness and also picked up a road-kill common buzzard which was the day's piece on the board.

Back from holiday!
And to find a rather pleasant surprise on the doormat. A letter from Wildscape Magazine informing me that my painting
“Red-throated Divers Nest-Prospecting” has WON AN AWARD! I am thoroughly chuffed.
I am very lucky having an, er, 'understanding' family regarding these unfortunates which end up on the slab, but actuallythe kids are really gruesome and love to see the dead stuff up close. They even spot bundles of feathers and fur from the car - beats I-Spy anyday!

And here is a slightly re-worked painting of the original that won the award.

This is an unfortunate fulmar which I collected from near the Standing Stones of Stenness. I kept it overnight but it had sadly died by the morning. I made a study of the bird both as an artistic statement and for reference at a later date.

Incidentally, here are a few notes on handling dead birds for artistic study purposes:
If they look manky - leave them alone. Most of what I pick up are road kills meaning they were (probably) in fairly good health up until the point that they, er, weren't. They will have (depending on species and individual) a number of mites, lice and other hangers-on which will remain with the host until they find another one. These are pretty specific critters requiring very specialised habitat, so don't worry about them - unless you happen to be dressing up in your best Fulmar-feather outfit - most are very slow-moving and can be cracked with the blunt end of a pencil or brush as they hit the white backing paper (which I like to use as it helps me see the contours and tones better than 'neutral' backgrounds. Reverse side of old wallpaper is good. One type of parasite which lives on rooks is a broad winged flea-type of thing and they are truly gruesome. They appear fom out of the plumage, do a quick once-over round the corpse and disappear back into the feathers - uuuuurrgh! I don't do corvids in the house - they stay outer-doors.One final thing. When using dining table - make sure it's not you sitting where aforementioned specimen was lying previous to setting table - or you could disinfect the table, if you're being especially fussy!regarding catching 'stuff' from dead birds - I suppose the main thing is - don't eat them or suck them. You should be ok then.

2008-07-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

Just a word about Fair Isle. Wow!!I'm pretty much used to islands, and I'm pretty used to getting to them by boat, but the trip didn't disappoint. Travelling via the Varagen - one of Orkney Ferries North Isles boats, the first 2 hours were in blanket fog, but this eventually cleared somewhat and, nearly 5 hours after deprture, we squeezed through the seething gap and into North Haven. Arriving to a full pipe band (we brought our own) the islanders welcomed us marvellously. Considering there are only 68 men women kids and oaps, the 30 or so that greeted us was a fair showing, and the rest were busy organising other bits and bobs up at the hall - great start.A quick wander up South Gavel, an adjacent cliffside to the Havens, and into puffin city. I nearly broke an ankle as the ground gave way - a result of energetic subterranean rabbit and puffin activity, virtually honeycombed the whole clifftop. Fair warning, though. A few pages of rubbish sketches and I decided to settle down for a landscape - the light did not behave, though and changed constantly. I made an effort, anyway.Up to the hall and a quick discussion with Holly from the Bird Observatory. Desperate news - their terns and skuas virtually failed before they'd even begun - Christ will this ever change up here???? Anyway, back to the remaining birds - bonxies (Great Skuas) absolutely everywhere and gannets doing really well, so not all gloomy stuff. Went out and spent the remaining time getting bonxied. Found a beautiful pair of Arctic Skuas though and, besides the pale and dark morphs, they also have an intermediate form - these happened to be they! Georgeous birds. Travelled back the way we came - chucked about in an eight-metre swell for a half hour then fairly easy going all way home. Had 11 storm petrels as rocket fly-bys over a period of 30 minutes, so that was fun. Unfortunately no cetaceans at all - probably a tad choppy for decent views. Going back on the very next boat to leave here!!! (that's next year).Today I felt inclined to re-visit the white billed diver. I tied the trip in to collecting a crossbill carcass from a pal for study, but my plans changed as I picked up a road-kill great black-backed gull. It would be very smelly in a fairly short time so the crossbill was refridgerated and the gull got the once-over.
Always sad to find dead birds but I always take the opportunity to study them in a bit of detail.

Only slight downside (birding wise) was the fact that up here in sunny Scotland, it's already the summer holidays, so wherever I go, the kids come too. We have another very special bird up here at the moment – white-billed diver! The diver is actually around the island where we used to live, so it was fairly easy to persuade the girls that we ought to go and see some of their old friends and have a picnic on one of our favourite beaches. I used the beach time to make a colour sketch of a favourite plant - oyster plant. After the beach fun, it was off to Barrier 4 and the white-billed (yellow-billed, or whatever we call it now) diver. I found the bird fairly quickly - but it was a long way away and required a drive of a couple of miles to get any decent views. By this time the kids were playing up, so I had a five minute 'watching only' spell and then away.
Sal had the day off so we took the kids to Birsay for a meal out (hot dog from the green van!!! - scrummy) and whilst they were rockpooling, daddy was observing old friends and making a few drawings. Unlike much of the tern colonies across the isles, this little one with 80 ads has good numbers of growing chicks and food seems to be coming in regualrly too - fingers crossed.Today I had to make a trip to the Old Country - South Ronaldsay (amazingly on the very same day that a rose-coloured starling and white-billed diver were present!) although I have seen both birds recently (well the R-c s was a diferent individual, but you know what I mean). The last viewing of th ediver ws fairly brief and just a voyeur trip. Today's was meant to have a bit more purpose to it and I managed to blag a gaff sitting on an old girl's beach, fairly cool temps and watched 'our' bird for a good 3/4 of an hour.Added a bit of colour back home.

We have had a couple of nice birds in the Isles over the past week. Had a couple round today to look at some paintings. Whilst they were here, I mentioned there had been at least 2 rose-coloured starlings in the county and that I had just missed the one in Stromness because I had to take the girls to the dentists - grrrr! They had been gone for precisely 12 minutes and I decided to get the washing up done. A bit of a commotion on the neighbours' ridge-tiles made me glance up to see a little line of 4 sparrows chirrping and tail-flicking - but I couldn't see at what. So I leaned over the sink a bit and there he was. I don't see many of these from the garden - so swiflty out with the scope. He stayed quite happlily for 3 or 4 minutes. Just long enough for a quickie or two.

Have been working on a large (full imperial sheet) watercolour. It's a celebration of one of my favourite species – Arctic Terns. I have been toying with the idea of having the picture a rainy one. I was trying for the clash of climate, you know, rain on a sunny day, but I'm not sure this pic is the one to do it on. There's already quite a lot going on and maybe this extra element is just too much. I finally decided to leave the rain, but there's a suggestion that it has only just left the scene, one or two drops still loitering.
This little colony of Arctic Terns means a huge amount to me personally. Orkney is world famous for its seabird colonies, however over the past few years they have suffered tragically, with not even a single tern chick being raised at all last year. This year every colony across the Isles has failed again! - except for this one. This tiny colony of approximately 80 adults and well-growing chicks stands like a bastion against the dismal news across the rest of the Isles. We're all hoping at least some of the chicks survive.Hence 'After the Rain' - not only in the climatalogical sense of the phrase, but also in the 'I Can See The Sunshine After The Rain', philosophical sense.

Settling In . . .

2008-06-24T00:41:00.000-07:00

Well, we seem to be settling into our new home quite nicely now. Sally and I tend to occupy the ground floor (kitchen, dining room & office plus the garden and pier) whilst the kids maraud all over the upper two floors of the house. Edie can play her drum kit at full pelt in her bedroom and we can't hear a thing – thank god! Savannah's room, on the other hand, is directly above my workstation and – how could she? - plays HipHop at decebel levels which rival my own output as a teen listening to the mighty Quo, Led Zep, UFO and Thin Lizzy. How it all comes back to haunt me!
Leaving Lyrowall was always going to be a wrench, and I thought I would really miss the birdlife. Fortunately Orkney is blessed with an abundance of birds and we have them right on the doorstep (or chimney pots and ocean-garden). Gulls are ubiquitous, but I seem to have amassed my own little posse of about 30 herring, 2 lesser black-backed and 18 black-headed gulls. Each and every time I walk out of the back door and onto the pier, they circle me like expectant vultures, waiting for Clint Eastwood's latest victim.
On several occasions though, these common birds are usurped by some special creatures. Red-breasted margansers bring their new broods to dive for fish in the clear shallow waters, eider ducks (in various degrees of moult) clamour for all manner of sea creatures. This morning I watched a female emerge from a dive with a large velvet crab. She casually mauled the crab between her mandibles, effectively chewing its legs off. When all that remained was the carapace, she swallowed it – Nice!
Of all the birds which we see regularly here though, my most favourite are the red-throated divers (loons). Nowhere are these birds common, but we have had the very good fortune to see up to 9 in front of the house. Yesterday began with a real blow from the NE and, peering out of the very upstairs window I could only see two birds – a pair of red-throated divers, barely 3 yards from the end of the pier (effectively our garden). Stunning!
The eiders are a constant source of interest and entertainment and I have just completed a painting depicting these. It's unusual for me in that it's an oil – tricky medium, but most enjoyable. Other than this, haven't really had much time to get out at all, so have the sketch-shakes. Fortunately the girls found an item of some interest on their daily beach-comb – cormorant skull! I made a few measured drawings (after boiling the residue of its brief time at sea off of it – stink was terrible!) which will be of value at a later date.

2008-05-24T11:17:00.000-07:00

May is a very special month. And May 2008 has been, up to now, crammed with beautifully warm days, clear bright skies and, just recently, some rather interesting birds. Yesterday's hot news was the final confirmation that a Black Stork had been residing in these northern climes. First seen a few days ago, but not quite for long enough, or clearly enough for a 100% id confirmation, last night the original finder, Alan Leitch RSPB Mainland Reserves Warden) following his original hunch finally pinned the bird down as it decided to roost at Woodwick, Evie and good views were had by most folk (me excluded – unfortunately I didn't hear about it til this morning).
The news this morning included a Rustic Bunting – actually in the village we have just relocated from! - Ah well, the bird wasn't to know that. A brilliant find by Paul Higson and I decided the day would have to change course somewhat. With Sally at work at the ferry office doing a special ticket sales day for the Fair Isle daytrip (which I appear to have a ticket for – ahem!), I tempt the kids with the suggestion of a car trip around the county, a picnic on a sandy beach and the chance to see some of their old friends from the 'Hope.
Sandwiches made, pop and crisps packed, sketchbook, bins and scope loaded and away we go. The detour to Evie proved fruitless, except for the stunning drive and amazing scenery, but we arrive at our intended beach after another 40 minutes – 40 minutes crammed with the Greatest Hits of Queen which both Savannah (13) and Edie (6) are mad keen on. Sandwiches are wolfed down whilst I check out the little tern colony – 5 birds noted in the 20 minutes – then we had a wander along the shore. A fine little group of sanderling in various plumages from fine grey to blushing orange. Great birds! A rakish silhouette crossed the bay – dark morph Arctic Skua, followed by its big cousin – Bonxie. 80 eiders are a fine sight too and, I realise, the long-tailed ducks have finally departed for their breeding grounds. They seem to stay later each year (?).
We're now running out of time but I make the drive down to St Margaret's Hope, fingers crossed that the bunting will have decided to stay. On arriving at the site - opposite the doctors' surgery – I see four familiar faces, all looking in different directions. Is it still around, I enquire. I t appears that it has been around, but very elusive and 'crap views' were all anyone's had this afternoon. I tell the kids to behave and to sing Bohemian Rhapsody a little less enthusuastically and I take a wander up the lane, bins in hand. I spend ten minutes circling the tiny copse – a few nice birds are singing, including whitethroat, blackcap, greenfinch and chiffchaff, nice stuff. I then just pick up a very slight contact note – a bit like a little song thrush and there's my bird! He's just sitting in a willow, bold as brass and directly opposite my car with the kids headbanging in it! I retrace my steps, quieten the kids and get out my drawing gear. He's a little marvel and I spend 15 minutes enjoying his company, the dappled sunlight cascading through the canopy – chiffchaff and whitethroat singing and, every now and then, a subdued flutey refrain from the rustic bunting – his throat swelling and vibrating slightly as he performs.
The scene could have been in any wood (well 5 trees is a wood up here) in Britain, but I'm reminded starkly of where I live on the return drive. Speeding along the ayre which seperates Echna Loch from the sea and my attention is attracted by a kerfuffle in the corner of the loch. I can see a female mallard frantically mobbing a hooded crow, whilst an oystercatcher is going beserk over its head. As I draw level, the hoodie picks something up and starts to mangle it. It's a baby oystercatcher and, as always, a slightly sickening feeling hits me. The feeling doesn't last long – it's nature and that's what happens, but it's still gruesome to witness it. The kids don't notice anything – they're screaming at the top of their voices “. . . left alone with Big Fat Fanny – she was such a naughty nanny . . . “
Maybe I'll sneak out to look for the stork later on . . .

Home - In A Round-about Way . . .

2008-05-19T06:23:00.000-07:00

Well, we made it! We have finally managed to complete the excruciatingly stressful sale of Lyrowall, purchase and then removal to Monivey, Stromness. And there's a tale to be told . . .
The sale of our fab beach-side cottage in South Ronaldsay happened really quickly. In fact, having decided that promoting the sale of my house via my website was pretty much a complete waste of time (I've never even sold a painting through that particular medium, so it was always a bit unlikely that I would sell a house that way!!!) and plumping for the time-tested method of using (arghhh!) Estate Agents, the house only took two weeks to sell. And that just before the market came a-crashing down. Very lucky, in many respects. The fact that the people buying the house liked my most recent acrylic painting (red-throated divers) may have helped. The fact that I mentioned that the painting could stay where it was IF their offer to buy the house was satisfactory, may also have have had an influence – whatever, they liked the place and we shook hands there and then.. We then put in an offer on a house in St Margaret's Hope (the local village) which was accepted immediately. We were later to find out why . . .
Calling in many favours, we got the offer officially approved and set a completion date for the purchase (the point of no return) and also persuaded the people buying our house to move that completion date forward so we could have the money from the sale in our account ready to pay for the new house. Tipperty-top!
However, we soon ran into a few problems. Our solicitors found out that as the house had flooded, we may not get insurance and, as it was built in the mid 1600s, it was also understandably listed. But what we didn't realise was that we couldn't even build a conservatory on it (essential due to the small size of the existing accommodation). The final straw came when we discovered the amount of grant aid which had gone into the renovation of the building – staggering. Unfortunaltely (or fortunately whichever way you look at it) my mate had been the agent for the renovation and, when I asked him for the keys to do some measuring up, his reply was - “No effer's getting the keys to that house until I get paid!”
“How much you owed, Paul?” I ask him. £38,000 was his reply.
The implications were immense for us and we, fairly understandably, pulled out immediately. Great, that leaves us with no-where to go and officially homeless in two weeks time.
We knocked on every door in the village for the chance to rent or buy . Nothing. Then Sally decided we would have to take a look at a house which I already knew. I did a painting for the owner last year, but I hadn't taken much notice when she (Helen) had told me it was going on the market. Anyway it had no land so what about the horse and chickens and our old boy Jacob the mongrel labXcollie – now 17 years old. Well, needs must and all that, so we went to see the house anyway – divine. Agonising decision to be made and heartbreakingly, Tessa, our Clydesdale, just has to go. We vet a couple of homes for her, but soon find the perfect home. She went within the week. Conveniently they also agreed to having the chickens too, so that left us without any livestock at all- the first time in a decade.
Our offer on the house was rejected! F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!!!
Nothing else to do, I'm afraid – so it was, with more than a little trepidation that we agreed we would have to stay with my Mother-In-Law until something came up, which at this rate could be quite some time.
Four days before we had to get out of the house, I receive a call from a friend. His ex-wife was friends with Helen, the girl selling the Stromness house. She's moved to Fife and could do with a quick sale and she is willing to be a bit more flexible with the price. Sally and I raid the kids piggy banks and look behind the cushions on the settee – nothing! Last resort and Sally phones her big sis for a little bit of help (we don't need much, but if you haven't got it, you just haven't got it!). She comes up trumps and we bang in a slightly higher offer – which Helen accepts!!! She even agrees to let us rent the house until the sale is finalised, but it still means a week with Ma-In-Law, but at least there's light at the end of the tunnel.
Two days before we have to be out of the house and, saddest thing – Jacob dies. He's very old and has deteriorated rapidly over the past ten days (I know how he feels). I actually think he knew we were off and just couldn't be arsed with it. So he stayed where he was and died. I buried him beside his little brother Oliver, who died last year (while I painted a little watercolour of a lapwing, to take my mind off his passing). They will lie side by side under the willow trees on a hillside garden in South Ronaldsay, hopefully forever. For the first time in over 17 years I don't have a mate to walking with – very strange feeling!
But life goes on and we have to get the kids organised with new house, new school and new friends – plus explaining that this also means leaving the old ones behind. Gradually they come round to the idea (they love the house, which is a real bonus) and Edie is now into her third week of school in Stromness. Today, however, Savannah's first day at the Academy! - Eeeek!
Staying at the MiL's house has some advantages. I get to sit under REAL trees and watch the rooks going about life. I have my sketchbook to help keep me sane during the few moments I am not charging between the two houses in a borrowed VW Transporter (with no tax, test or windscreen!) loading and unloading all our earthly possessions. Having John – the lovebird – around is also nice. I make a few drawings of him when it's quiet, partly for practice and partly because it's a bit silly seking out subjects to draw when there's a very coomliant one in a cage three feet away!
It takes six days to do the removal AND I'm working for the RSPB at the same time. I have never been so utterly sh*gged-out!
And, because Helen has been such a darling allowing us to rent the house (otherwise we would be still moving our stuff around Orkney) I offered to do her a painting to go with the one she commissioned last year. Sitting on the pier behind my telescope, can of lager in hand and sketchbook at the ready, a pair of red-throated divers cruised into view. They stayed for well over an hour and made excellent models for a few sheets of drawings. As they slid out of view I hurried inside and made an immediate watercolour of the pair. I'll send the finished picture to Helen tomorrow. The whole thing has a nicely wholesome feel to it.
And this story has a happy ending. We totally adore the new house and living in The Burgh of Stromness – Orkney's second largest settlement (2000 souls – a village really!) offers the opportunity to get my work out to a slightly wider public. There are common and Arctic terns fishing in front of the house, eiders, red-brested mergansers, shags and cormorants floating by, red-throated divers crackilng their nuptuals in broad daylight and, last year at this time, a pod of seven orcas just happened to make an appearance just off our pier, much to the delight of the human inhabitants of Stromness – not so the local Grey seal colony!
The kids seem at ease with the whole thing and I can walk to the pub(s)!!!
See you later . . .

Breeding birds and prospective homelessness

2008-04-14T23:57:00.000-07:00

The birds are at it again and so I'm back to work, doing breeding bird surveys for the RSPB - Gawd Bless'um! Beautiful day today so, after returning from West Mainland, collecting kids and scoffing Sally's fab trout and tatties, had the best of the day looking at birds from the window. Some got sketched. It always amuses me to watch waders, when so thoroughly comfortable with the one leg tucked away, get disturbed and hop off on the one peg. I made a quick drawing as the oystercatcher did so and added some detail once it became stationary again.

I've also managed to squeeze in another of my regular commitments - illustrating the Orkney Bird report. The short-eared owl and the hooded crows are two drawings I made last week. The report is published in September (ish).

Most of the flock of shelducks which spend the early part of the year on the beach in front of the house have now dispersed to their respective breeding grounds. Just the two pairs remain which will, hopefully, raise broods here as they did last year. The colour-ringed shelduck has been traced back to the Eden Estuary, Fife. This bird is GN17699 ringed on the 6/3/05 at shelly spit on the Eden Estuary as a 5M. The record is apparently a cracking recovery. Many thanks to Alan Leitch, Kane Brides, Les Hatton (the original ringer and recorder) and Paul Higson for their sterling efforts in tracing this bird. I'll keep an eye out for him in future.

We thought we had solved our personal housing crisis and placed an offer on a beautiful old fisherman's cottage in the village. It dates back to approximately 1660! has beeen beautifully renovated and just about accommodates us and all our rubbish. We brought forward the completion date of the sale of our house so that we cold move quickly, only to find there is an anomaly regarding the house we want to buy. We have been advised to pull out of the purchase, but are already tied in to the sale date of our place. This means we are technically homeless on the 1st of May (Savannah's Birthday!). Ah well, the weather's picking up, so it's not too bad to be in a tent.

Chasing the shelduck!

2008-03-29T11:32:00.000-07:00

The view from the conservatory is always fascinating, waders and ducks usually dominating the scene. Amongst the usual suspects of wigeon and shelduck, a few teal, mallard and occasionally eider will venture into the bay. Shelduck, however, are a constant joy to watch and to draw. At this time of year they are paired off and preparing to breed. One drake caught my eye for more reasons than his stunning colouration or his ardour - he was colour-ringed. This, it transpires, is quite unusual and has had a few of us at pains to locate the code on the ring. This afternoon I secreted myself under a small stand of willow trees at the bottom of the garden, alongside the beach. From this vantage point I could watch the drake, sheltered from the stiff breeze and supposedly hidden from his view. He is very wary, more so than most of his type - perhaps he remembers the occasion of his capture - whatever, he certainly spends much more time staring directly at me than do the other birds. Gradually, however, as the tide lowers, he moves closer into range of the telescope. At about 150 meters, with max. zoom on the eyepiece, I can (eventually) make out the ring and its message. it is green and in white type are the characters B (or possibly 8) and Z. All we need to do now is find out who and where he was ringed. More to come as and when. Here are a few drawings I made of him and others over the past couple of days.

2008-03-25T09:43:00.000-07:00

The house hunting is stretching over the water now and into Caithness. Sally and I will hopefully take the boat across to Scotland on Thursday and view a few places. The possibility of renting a cottage while something turns up in Orkney is also a strong contender and we think we have a couple of options in this area. Time will tell.

In the meantime, however, I'm using the remaining time in the house to use its finest feature - the conservatory - to best advantage. The horizontal showers of hail and snow are occasionally punctuated by prolonged periods of crisp, bright light, but still very cold weather.

Today I've been back to the 'day job' as an illustrator after the Bank Holiday and only managed a half hour in the conservatory. The drawings are from yesterday and today. I also noticed that one of the sheldrake has a colour ring and a metal one. I'll try geting a wee bit closer and see if I can read anything. I also had a cock blackbird which was ringed and I'm waiting for the information back from the BTO.

2008-03-19T10:46:00.000-07:00

Start at the beginning

2008-03-19T09:39:00.000-07:00

Hello, I'm Tim Wootton and I'm a wildlife artist, illustrator and writer and I live in the magical northern islands of Orkney. I'm starting this blog at a time of great flux for me and my family (more of whom later) as we have just successfully sold our lovely cottage by the sea, but have yet to find somewhere else to live! Although we have viewed several houses and quite a few piles of rubble, nothing has been quite suitable - either because of price, location, size or whatever (we're not fussy, honest!).

A renovation project seems the most likely as this would allow us to design the interior according to our own spec. which also includes a workspace/studio for me. The obvious down-side to this solution is the time it takes to complete the renovation - I have to find somewhere to work, making the transition as seamlessly as possible. It'll be fun!

Here are a few samples of my recent work. They are sketches drawn from life, drawn from the conservatory which overlooks a tidal bay, teeming with waders and ducks - it's a special place indeed.