Here is a collection of cloud studies. This is me experimenting with “wet on wet” watercolour technique, from my desk. Click the image to see it bigger.
This wet-on-wet technique is a learning curve. For one thing, it makes my desk where I’m working all wet. I’m not yet sure how I’m going to translate this technique into a method I can use on location. I’m working on it. It’s certainly fun to see how the watercolour flows. The technique is a bit unpredictable, like tie-dying, or sourdough baking or surfing. One has to learn to guide rather than control.
If you’d like one of these cloud studies please contact me. They are different sizes. The smallest is about postcard size and the largest is about A3. The sizes, in inches, are in the captions of the images*.
I’m learning this wet-on-wet technique from the talented watercolour artist Matthew White in a video I’ve been watching.
*NFS= “Not for sale”. All the others are available.
This is the Lera Voe phone box, which is on the road between Burrastow and Walls.
The phone box is a landmark. This year it was renovated, and fitted out as a sanctuary and small room. There is no phone in there any more, unless you bring your mobile phone with you.
Henry Anderton did the renovation. His project was partly financed by a reward he obtained for having found a message in a bottle on one of his beach-cleaning outings. You can read about it in this article from the BBC, published in February 2020.
The article says of Mr Anderton: “He has bought the phonebox, near Walls, for £1 and been supplied with the regulation red paint from BT. He said: “We’ve now launched a crowd funding operation to help out the renovations – we’ve got to find a door first.”“
Evidently he found a door, because when I visited in July the phone box was complete, bright red and in great shape. There are shelves and a seat inside.
I wanted to draw the phone box with Lera Voe in the background. This is the view from the field behind the phone box. You can see the voe, and the hills beyond. The road is just behind the phone box in my drawing. “Voe” is a Shetland word meaning “sea inlet”.
Here is work in progress on the drawing.
Here is the article from the BBC mentioned above, as a PDF file.
These phone boxes , which were called Telephone Kiosks, were designed by Giles Gilbert-Scott in the 1920s and 30s. Giles Gilbert-Scott was a prolific architect, who also designed Cambridge University Library, the North Wing of the Guildhall in the City of London, and Bankside Power Station which is now Tate Modern.
The phone box at Lera Voe is a “K6” phone box, designed by Gilbert-Scott for the jubilee of George V in 1935, following his successful design of the K2 phone box in 1924. The K6 is distinguished from the K2 by the embossed crown, and the fact that it has 8 rows of windows, rather than the 6 rows of the K2.
It would be possible to date the phone box had I been more careful in drawing the crown. The crown is painted red on the Lera Voe phone box, as it was on the original phones boxes. Only in the 1990s did BT start painting the crowns gold.
“On the remote west side of Shetland you can find spectacular scenery, peace and the ideal refuge for the escapist. The guest house welcomes you with peat fires, a cosy library and all the marvellous food you could want after a day of exploring….” This is Burrastow House , near Walls.
The house is right next to the sea. Here’s a view across the bay.
Around the back is a vegetable garden and polytunnel with herbs in. Here’s the view from the back. See all the chimneys!
And here’s another view from the front garden.
Here is work in progress on these pictures.
All pictures drawn and coloured on location, using a paper block by Saunders Waterford “St Cuthberts Mill” 300gsm Hot Press and Daniel Smith Watercolours over De Atramentis waterproof ink.
I walked over to the distant headland, called Whites Ness. It was a long walk.
The walk round the peninsula of Whites Ness is way-marked.
When I reached the end of the peninsula, I saw that there was a lighthouse marked on the map.
I wondered if it were really there. Would it be a real lighthouse, or maybe simply a buoy off the rocks?
The path was not very well marked, and seemed to be mainly uphill. I was a good way through what was already quite a long walk. And I had to walk back. But I kept on going. It seemed an unlikely location for a lighthouse. Of course I had in my mind those lighthouses I have seen, built by the Stevenson family in the 18th Century, red and white striped, towering over cliffs.
Here there were relatively mild rocks, smooth grass and a few sheep.
But then, against all expectation, there was the lighthouse. I was delighted. There was no-one around to whom I could exclaim: Look! Look! There really is a lighthouse.
It was not a lighthouse like the one in your head. It looked a bit like a prop from a Dr Who episode of the 1960s, or perhaps some construction which had been assembled from assorted parts of IKEA flat-packs. But it was a lighthouse, beyond all doubt. I sat down and drew it.
It was hard to find somewhere to sit down so that I could be sure that my art supplies were not going to take an impromptu roll down the slope and into the sea. There were a selection of rocks, none at quite the right angle. I chose the safest, and drew my picture.
Then I packed up my things and started on the long trek back.
That evening a friend produced a useful coastal navigation guide, which informed me that this lighthouse was: “Fl.WRG8s16m9-6M”. We decoded this as: Flashing, White Red and Green, with an 8 second repeat, 16 metres above sea level, visible 6-9 nautical miles out at sea, on a good day. Anyone who is more familiar with the notation, please correct me if I have this wrong. I also found a map online.
Here is a sketch of the mysterious island of Foula.
Foula is about 20 miles away from Shetland Mainland, so it hovers on the horizon, often with its own special cloud.
This is a view from the Virda Stane, which is at the top of a hill. It’s a rare view: normally at this stage on the walk I would hunkered down on the East side of the stone, with its bulk sheltering me from the howling West wind. However on this particular day, there was eerily little wind. So I could sit on the West side, and observe Foula, before it disappeared in the fog.
On a long walk to Footabrough, I paused to do a drawing of a distant headland.
The drawing shows the West corner of the island of Vaila, with the wonderfully named “Stack of the Cuillan”, which are the rocks forming a small island at the base of the cliffs. In the distance is a headland. The question is: what is the headland?
When I was drawing it, I thought it must be Skelda Ness, some 6 or 7 km away. But that might be hidden behind Vaila. So is that distant headland Sumburgh Head, 25km away?
It occurred to me that the phone might know. I have the OS Maps app. But evidently it didn’t think I was interested in any feature so far away.
However it did give me the bearing: 149 degrees, as you see. So now back in London I can use my old school protractor.
It’s Sumburgh Head in the picture. I’m glad we sorted that out!
Further on towards Footabrough are the Skerries of Easter Paill.
The word “Easter” here does not relate to the Christian festival, but to the fact that these small islands are the ones on the East. I guess this implies there must be a “Wester Paill” somewhere but I haven’t found it.
I drew this on location in my sketchbook.
The waves are done with watercolour resist. The resist is a kind of rubber solution a bit like Typex. The air was somewhat damp, despite the fine weather. I applied the resist before the paint was entirely dry, and then the resist didn’t dry properly either. I walked along for while with the sketchbook open, flapping it, much to the consternation of nearby terns. Then the terrain became more complicated, and too rocky to scramble over carrying an open sketchbook in one hand. I sat down on a stone and rubbed the resist off, which reveals the white bits. I was pleased with the result, obtained even in these adverse conditions. The product I was using is “Schminke Rubbelkrepp neutral”, in a tiny 20ml jar, applied with a brush.
In the evening I had another go, this time trying to describe also the brilliant light of the day, and the clarity of the water, as well as the pointedness of the rocks, and their regular angles.
On another walk, I drew the headlands of Mucklure.
The dark is terrifyingly black, and the glitter from the sea is blindingly bright. It’s impossible to draw. But it’s so arrestingly beautiful that I had to have a go.
This scenery demands to be drawn.
Here are some blog posts from previous expeditions to Shetland. You can also see a collection of Shetland Landscapes (2017) on this link.
The rocks off the ward of Mucklure are almost geometrical in their formations. They make abrupt right angles. Here are the Skerries of Easter Paill, small rocks in the sea off Dounawall and The Hamar. Here is another drawing of the same location. It’s hard to get an idea of the scale. Here’s a map … Continue reading “Shetland, Skerries of Easter Paill”
Here are some pictures I drew in pen and wash. I spent a lot of time drawing rocks. The rocks are overwhelming in their detail. Not every thing I saw is in the picture. But every thing in the picture, I saw. Here are some pictures I drew on the journey going back South: And … Continue reading “Shetland 2019 – pen and wash”
There’s a beach near Burrastow that looks towards the Island of Vaila. Here’s a sketch I made from the cliffs above the beach. Those cliffs look steep and dark. The tower is a “watch tower”, I’m told, built by the Laird back in the day (1700s) to watch over his fishing operations. The story I … Continue reading “Shetland: Towards Vaila”
The wooden sign from the main road said “Historic Site”, and pointed up a small road that lead steeply uphill. I was on my morning run and felt energetic, so I set off up there, keen to see the Historic Site. In Shetland, Historic Sites are often at the top of hills. At the top … Continue reading “Shetland, Historic site walk”
Here is a collection of landscapes all done directly in watercolour with no pen and ink. I am using Daniel Smith Watercolours, and trying different mixing combinations. All of these pictures are done with three or fewer colours, alone or mixed together. It seems to me that the fewer the better. The picture hangs together … Continue reading “Shetland landscapes”
Here’s another attempt at the skerries of Easter Paill:
There’s a beach near Burrastow that looks towards the Island of Vaila.
Here’s a sketch I made from the cliffs above the beach.
Those cliffs look steep and dark. The tower is a “watch tower”, I’m told, built by the Laird back in the day (1700s) to watch over his fishing operations. The story I was told was that the Laird’s tenants were selling their catch to Icelandic vessels out there in the bay. Then they returned with a meagre stock for the Laird. Or at least he suspected them of doing this. After all, he gave them very little, if anything for their catch. And the Icelanders would pay.
So he made the watchtower for surveillance. I was told this story in the Germattwatt café in Walls. The people made it sound as though it was living memory. But it was many generations ago, even if true. They also pointed out to me the place on the nearby hill where the miscreants were hanged, and left hanging, as an example.
The tower is listed as a project on the website of “Groves Raines Architects” as “Mucklaberry Tower, C19th 2-storey square plan Baronial reconstruction” . Their project was to refurbish it as a retreat, along with renovation of Vaila Hall.
On another day, from the beach, I determined to draw the rocks.
Drawing the rocks. Muckleberry Tower is just visible, on the right in the distance.
Drawing the rocks.
On the beach.
It was a very windy day, the wind blowing over the top of me.
My rule for drawing rocks is this: everything that’s drawn is there, but not everything that’s there is drawn.