Holy Stones

In the summer of 2003 I spent a holiday on the island of Lewis and Harris. The landscape of the Western Isles is (for the most part) muted — huge expanses of peat are interspersed with a maze of lochs and streams and outcrops of bare, ice-eroded rock, without a clear sense of form or pattern. As a landscape artist accustomed to working in the Pennines I suddenly found myself visually disorientated. Even so, I felt compelled to engage with what I saw and began sketching, taking notes and photographs.

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