Even Here, Even Now: What draws artists to Scotland's islands? And what makes them stay?

AJ Stockwell making NOW as part of #EvenHereEvenNow | Tara Drummie

In 2019, the cult Scottish musician and writer Momus travelled from his home in Paris to perform at Faclan: the Hebridean Book Festival in Stornoway. After spending 48 hours in the Isle of Lewis, Momus announced that he was starting work on a concept album about the Outer Hebrides, called Parachute.

In case it’s not obvious, this was a joke, a satirical swipe at artists “parachuting” into island communities they know very little about. It was also, he admitted, a cheeky dig at his cousin, Justin Currie of Del Amitri, who he’d heard was writing songs inspired by time spent on Lewis.

At the time I’d lived in Lewis for just over a year; it was me who invited Momus to visit. The parachute joke made me laugh, but a bit uneasily. When I moved, I felt strongly that anything I made there should engage with the island’s culture. I started developing two theatre shows, one an adaptation of Alastair McIntosh’s Lewis-set memoir Soil & Soul, the other a music piece about migration and grief, partly performed in Gaelic. Both were made in collaboration with Hebridean artists, but I still worried about overstepping boundaries.

I was probably worrying too much. Even Here, Even Now, a new manifesto and campaign jointly created by artists living in Shetland, Orkney, and the Outer Hebrides, makes a point of referring to “island-based artists”, emphasising the valuable contribution of incomers. Depopulation is an issue facing all Scottish islands, and artists who move there can bring many benefits, from practical skills to a fresh perspective.

“Before I moved to Uist I had been working on a project exploring my geological heritage, specifically through the site of Scolpaig, North Uist, where some of my ancestors had been tenant farmers,” says artist AJ Stockwell. “I didn't grow up in Uist or any other Scottish island so my cultural associations and experience of the islands had been from a distance.”

Andrew Eaton-Lewis, Aird Uig, Isle of Lewis | Contributed

Stockwell is now working as an artist advocate for Even Here, Even Now, supporting fellow artists in Uist through workshops on subjects such as access riders and building creative communities. “There are many benefits to working in Uist, specifically with the work I'm making,” says Stockwell, “but I think it's important to get some critical distance and engage with artists outside of the islands too. There are parallels that can be shared, such as issues around access to good affordable studio space. This is a nationwide issue but one that is very visible in Uist.”

In Lewis, my neighbours now include Matthew Dalziel and Louise Scullion. Working together for over 30 years as Dalziel + Scullion, they are among Scotland’s most acclaimed contemporary artists, making film, photography, sculpture and sound installations as far afield as Venice, Rome, New York, and Tokyo, with a consistent focus on environmental themes. They moved to Lewis in 2022 after many years of teaching in Dundee, and have already made a noticeable impact, from mentoring artists to designing visually striking decorations for community events.

A still from Moor, by Dalziel + Scullion | Dalziel + Scullion / RSA

“When you’re visiting you’re just snatching at things,” says Dalziel of their decision to turn an island “bolthole” into a permanent home. “Living here you can spend more time on a project.” He mentions Moor, their 2024 short film, for which they spent months filming deer, birds and plant-life near their home in Uig, a way of working that would have been impossible without such a close, day-to-day relationship with their surroundings. “We always felt that nature is our studio. It’s a brilliant resource.”

“In some ways it feels like we’re young artists again,” says Scullion. “At the beginning of our career, all of our pals were moving to cities and we moved to a village in Aberdeenshire that was a constant reservoir that we drew from. We were making works that were very different from work made in urban settings and that served us very well.”

There are lots of reasons why artists end up on islands. Some are drawn to the landscape, or are looking for peace and quiet. Some, like Joyce Davies, find their voices as artists after moving for job opportunities and to raise children. Davies was a clinical psychologist with three young daughters when she moved from Dundee to Shetland in 2004. It was only in 2019 that classes in art and creative writing gave her the confidence to call herself an artist. She has had five solo exhibitions since and is a prolific, published writer. “I consider myself both a Shetlander and a Glaswegian,” says Davies, who switches in and out of Shetland dialect depending on who she’s talking to. “I think your sense of home is where you’re most settled and happy. People often say ‘how can you live there? It’s so far away.’ And I always say ‘far away from where?’ Everywhere is far away from somewhere.” As an artist, Davies has exhibited in Chicago, sold work in New York, and is represented by a gallery in Manchester.

There are also incomers, like Mairi Gillies in Lewis, who embrace island culture to an extent that they are now among its foremost champions. Gillies, who grew up in Edinburgh, describes herself as a Gaelic visual artist, a term that is still little understood on the mainland. “I think sometimes we focus a lot on Gaelic language rather than Gaelic culture,” she says. “I did a post-graduate masters in learning and teaching Gaelic arts. That was a voyage of discovery for me. Gaelic has multiple ways in which to express itself so of course visual arts will be part of that.”

Gillies has run group residencies at Reothart nan Ealain, a converted schoolhouse in Uig; Joyce Davies attended one and is full of praise for her hosting skills and the sense of community she helps create. “There’s an element of hospitality, or the art of ceilidhing, which to me is distinctly Gael,” says Gillies. As a society, she says, “there are lots of things we’re coming back to that were inherently part of Gaelic culture. There’s a different perspective.”

Find out more about the Even Here, Even Now manifesto and campaign via Shetland Arts, An Lanntair, Pier Arts Centre, or Taigh Chearsabhagh, or just search for #EvenHereEvenNow online.