Alison Dunlop

The presence of islands not far off-shore seems to encourage a dynamic interplay of light and water and, most days, sunshine melts into cloudbursts and rain over the Inner Sound and The Minch. Some days, the forms of the Isles are barely visible through thin veils of mist which part from time to time, allowing only glimpses of bleak, grey silhouettes.

I’ve been exploring this elemental interplay in my work since moving to Wester Ross some years ago. From my home on the coast, they are, despite their diminished scale, a compelling sight.
My eyes have always been drawn to the Shiants in particular - in their rugged, fierce isolation, they seem like defiant, rocky fists, thrusting their way up through the waves, interrupting the visual plane. The idea of their inaccessibility, their detachment from the world, appealed to me and was something I was keen to explore.

Since 2019, when I finally set foot on the Shiants, they have been the focus of my work. Up close, the organic spirit of the volcanic rock reveals itself and tells you about creation, destruction and the fragility of life in the face of indifferent natural forces.
These forms were brought about by great upheaval - once fluid, their organic spirit is still evident as their layers have been peeled back by decay and erosion, wind and sea. The rocks may not be moving, but they are still breathing; both terrifying to behold and unnerving, in their sheer scale and drama.