The research trip

by Alexander Stevenson, 26 Jun 2009

In order to properly research what, where, and how I was to carry out this residency I traveled to Eigg in September 2008; with a mini-disc, a microphone and a camera. There I stayed in a little wooden building used by wildlife and trust volunteers during the summer months, and which had no electricity, and only brackish-water directed in from the river. I spent a very happy four weeks romping around the island recording conversations with islanders about their perceptions of public art, and what they thought would be well received in a community that is almost exclusively musical.
Eight or nine of the eleven Eiggach I recorded interviews with where really excited about the idea of having contemporary art on the island. It became clear that issues around island development and tourism where challenging, possibly irresolvable debates. Many individuals expressed feeling like they were stewards of the island’s history rather than it’s heirs, and a couple said they had almost no relation to it all. A curious state of affairs was expressed between the incongruous needs of islanders and those of the much needed tourists. There seemed to be a general consensus through speaking with islanders that I would be able to achieve a great deal if I examined these areas more closely.
But there were also one or two dismissals of such activities (and of art in general). I have decided to quote one particularly vibrant set of remarks for the sake of posterity, though the protagonist will remain anonymous.

“The word interpretation makes people think ‘wank’, commonly… the word interpretation has been given a bad name… [it’s] often associated with people who’ve not a f****** clue about the place or the history, they’re just people who’ve got the money to come and do some project miles away from anything they know anything about and that’s the way it works… In Glenuig recently they got some ‘plonk art’ as you’d say I suppose… does the landscape and sea not interpret itself? Do you need to interpret it? I see no need for it whatsoever, it’s its own interpretation, it doesn’t need someone there telling you this is what it is. That’s the whole point, that you’re there to interpret it yourself aren’t you? That’s the beauty.”

Though I sheepishly left the dust to settle at the time, I later included this quote in the formal proposal for a residency on Eigg, indicating that I agree that ‘plonking’ public art in landscapes is a challenging way to connect with local people (or incite violence!). But, that what I was hoping to achieve would go beyond the attempt to interpret “the landscape and sea”, that I believe that art might be a vehicle for Eiggach to communicate their relationship with the landscape and its history to a broader cultural audience. That by creating activities, images and objects about the contemporary debates that are happening now (that may not ever be completely resolved), he might find genuine value in the representation of relevant debates and issues that Eiggach can get behind or dispute with equal passion. I also promised never to spoil a view.

Whilst on the island last year (and between interviews) I starting asking islanders about folk-plays. There had been a tradition of aural history-telling and song-writing that existed right up to the last handful of elderly Eiggach who had been born on the island before the schellenbergian era. But there was no trace of theatrical activities in the history or in the photographic archives, in the learning centre behind the school.
In Nottinghamshire before I moved up to Glasgow last year, there was a huge number of merry-makers and mumming troupes and I have long been an advocate of such assimilatory traditions. I realised that there was potential for me to bring more of my own traditions and personal myths into the mixture, and alongside ideas for an alternative audio walking guide, and an intervention in the island swap shop; I set to work writing a folk-play based on island characters and in-keeping with the pub-mumming plays of my own childhood.