In 1979, when I was a comparatively young man, I joined the ranks of the thousands-strong workforce who were transforming the largest muddy hole in Europe into its largest crude oil landfall. It was an amazing experience, and I considered, at one time, writing a book about the job and the people who were doing it. I was discouraged from this idea by the cynics who told me that no-one would believe it as a factual account. My official title was offsites administrator for the scaffolding firm who employed me, and my main duties were being in charge of timekeeping for our 180 operatives, and trying to create and run a system for materials control. There were, of course, many amusing incidents and wind-ups involved in the daily life of the massive building site and, for most of my four years there, I relished the thought of getting up at 6.30 each morning to catch the bus at 7am for the hour-long journey to Sullom Voe.
Most of the skilled workforce of scaffolders were travelling men, who hailed mainly from the industrial centres of northern England, although there were also a fair number of Londoners and Glaswegians on the payroll. They did their four weeks on the job, took their week's official leave, then began the 35-day cycle over again, and so until the end of the project which, in the case of our Offsites contract, was in 1983. I was employed as a local, so there was no week's paid leave every month - for compensation, we locals were given radius allowance for our daily travel, which was a welcome addition to our pay.
At the project's end, most of the itinerant workforce carried on to work on projects elsewhere in Britain, offshore or abroad, although a few stayed on, having developed local attachments of one kind and another. Meanwhile, I started having difficulty finding work in my chosen clerical/administrative field, so here began the process which ultimately led to my self-employment as an artist. Jobs, which had been easy to find prior to the Sullom Voe construction phase, were now at a premium. I was now in my late thirties and, for the first time in my life, unemployed. No-one seemed to have need of my skills and experience any more. Of course, I was doing all the wrong things then - wallowing in uncooperative self-pity, and not re-training in the new information technology, which was revolutionising office work at that time. It was years later before I finally realised that this was the only way to go.
However, I have digressed from the intended subject for this post, which is the sudden reappearance in Shetland of one of the travelling men from my section of the Sullom Voe workforce of those days long ago. Bobby O'Donnell arrived on the contract, along with two other Jarrow lads, Jimmy Gallagher and Peter Atkinson, shortly after I did, and these cheerful Tynesiders and I subsequently quaffed many a pint of lager together, in the bars of Lerwick, in the heady days of the early 1980s.
So it was a surprise to hear his voice on the telephone, last Friday afternoon, more than a quarter of a century after I'd last heard it. What he had to request of me, though, was not exactly music to my ears. He was arriving in Shetland on Monday morning to work, and could I find somewhere for his two colleagues and himself to stay for a few months?? In other words, he expected me to perform a miracle - do people think so much of me that they believe I do these on demand? Well, to coin a phrase - I know a man who does!
Various possibilities, all remote, presented themselves to me in my pursuit of a solution to my problem. The accommodation websites provided nothing useful, and the appropriate column in the Shetland Times seemed to be the best recourse for me. There were a couple of two-bedroomed flats advertised to let in Lerwick, and a three-bedroomed cottage not too far from there. The two-roomed flat I tried was not available until a fortnight's time, but the cottage had immediate entry. I contacted the advertiser, who suggested I come to see the house, and agreed to pick me up on Sunday morning at 11am for this purpose.
I spent an anxious Saturday, having little enthusiasm for my morning's artwork, or the window-cleaning which my sister Mary had engaged me to help with at Sandwick in the afternoon. I had a couple of pints of lager in the Lounge at tea-time (never seen it so quiet at that time before!), and retired early to bed that night.
As arranged, the advertiser picked me up on Sunday morning, we viewed the property (which was beautiful!), I had a cup of tea with him, his wife and his family, we discussed things about the prospective lessees and the lease, touching on my artwork too, and I was run back to town again. They had other people to see about the property, apparently. About an hour later, he phoned me - my friend and his colleagues had the lease, and could move in the next day.
So, at lunchtime next day, Bobby and I found ourselves on the way to the cottage again, as I had to show him its location. It's nice to have a blast from the past now and then, and I'm glad I was able to prevent them from arriving in Shetland as homeless persons. However, I can still scarcely believe my own luck in finding that place. Sadly, Bobby wasn't so lucky that day - he broke his finger when a sudden gust of wind blew the van door shut on it!
The Grumpy Old Artist
Would YOU pose for this man???
LATEST PAINTING
The "Karen Ann II" entering Fraserburgh harbour
A Recent Painting
Summer Evening, Boyndie Bay
Other Recent Works
Fordyce Castle and Village
1930s Lerwick Harbour
Johnshaven Harbour
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Sunday, 28 February 2010
I'VE GOT CHILLS, THEY'RE MULTIPLYING......!
While Shetland children, their schools having been closed for most of the week, have been enjoying the prolonged sledging bonanza, most of their parents are weary of the apparently endless arctic winter, which refuses to release the islands from its icy grip and is thwarting practically every activity which involves leaving the comfort of their own firesides. The heaviest snow of the winter (so far) fell on Monday evening, putting an end to most people's aspirations of any kind of social interaction whatsoever, and, while people are finding life difficult, I can only speculate about, and be afraid of, the effect the conditions are having on the birds and animals.
Snow joke! The gallant snow-clearing crews of our local council have been doing their best to keep avenues of communication open, but even their best efforts were inadequate at times. Their vehicles are now displaying symptoms of the effects of prolonged hard use, and the clearance itself has its own unfortunate side-effects, such as ridges of cleared snow piled along the Lerwick kerbsides. These present difficulties for pedestrians trying to cross roads, and, for anyone with even slight mobility problems, negotiating one's way around town on foot takes on the nature of a mountaineering expedition.
"Oh, stop moaning, Tait!" I hear you say, in tones of chastisement, "Get your brushes out, and paint some snow scenes!". It might not be a bad idea at that, but my enthusiasm for artwork has been further curtailed by a stinking cold, which appeared in my tubes (there's a pun in there somewhere!) on Tuesday and has been with me since then. For most of the week, I have been dripping over everything, including my canvases - it adds nothing to the quality of the work applied thereon, nor, I suspect, to the value of any affected paintings.
Picture, if you will, the scene, at a time far into the future. A gallery assistant is accompanying a group of visitors around a Jim Tait retrospective exhibition, and he is explaining to the assembled company that "this painting of Lerwick harbour was part-painted, part sneeze-sprayed by the artist in late February 2010. The effect is similar to looking through a car's windscreen during a sleet-storm, and this is reputed to be the artist's only attempt at pointillism. He called the work 'Lerwick after Signac'. Moving on......"
No doubt my ailment and the snow will eventually disappear, as is the nature of things, but it cannot go fast enough for me and the rest of the residents of these ice-plagued islands. We are all yearning for a time when we can go about our business and recreation normally again. I observe, from the Met Office's excellent website, that they are predicting the temperature to rise to a balmy five degrees celsius in Lerwick tomorrow. In such sub-tropical conditions, the snow cannot fail to start melting, and, for thousands of snow-weary islanders, the thaw is long overdue.
Snow joke! The gallant snow-clearing crews of our local council have been doing their best to keep avenues of communication open, but even their best efforts were inadequate at times. Their vehicles are now displaying symptoms of the effects of prolonged hard use, and the clearance itself has its own unfortunate side-effects, such as ridges of cleared snow piled along the Lerwick kerbsides. These present difficulties for pedestrians trying to cross roads, and, for anyone with even slight mobility problems, negotiating one's way around town on foot takes on the nature of a mountaineering expedition.
"Oh, stop moaning, Tait!" I hear you say, in tones of chastisement, "Get your brushes out, and paint some snow scenes!". It might not be a bad idea at that, but my enthusiasm for artwork has been further curtailed by a stinking cold, which appeared in my tubes (there's a pun in there somewhere!) on Tuesday and has been with me since then. For most of the week, I have been dripping over everything, including my canvases - it adds nothing to the quality of the work applied thereon, nor, I suspect, to the value of any affected paintings.
Picture, if you will, the scene, at a time far into the future. A gallery assistant is accompanying a group of visitors around a Jim Tait retrospective exhibition, and he is explaining to the assembled company that "this painting of Lerwick harbour was part-painted, part sneeze-sprayed by the artist in late February 2010. The effect is similar to looking through a car's windscreen during a sleet-storm, and this is reputed to be the artist's only attempt at pointillism. He called the work 'Lerwick after Signac'. Moving on......"
No doubt my ailment and the snow will eventually disappear, as is the nature of things, but it cannot go fast enough for me and the rest of the residents of these ice-plagued islands. We are all yearning for a time when we can go about our business and recreation normally again. I observe, from the Met Office's excellent website, that they are predicting the temperature to rise to a balmy five degrees celsius in Lerwick tomorrow. In such sub-tropical conditions, the snow cannot fail to start melting, and, for thousands of snow-weary islanders, the thaw is long overdue.
Sunday, 21 February 2010
CONSIGNMENTS AND CORNS
While my body continues to display symptoms of premature decomposition, artwork progress has been maintained at a reasonable rate this week. On Monday morning, after ordering a fresh supply of Scholl's corn cushions from an online pharmacy (not a spammer!) and digesting some paracetamol to dull the pain of a headache which had been plaguing me since the previous evening, I hied me hither to the post office to send a painting to Surrey and a print to Argyll. Both recipients have since been in touch with glowing reports of their new acquisitions. This is what makes the job of self-employed artist such a rewarding one - it's certainly not the money!
Work on the two commissioned paintings has continued apace, but it has been to the exclusion of other artwork, which has to wait its turn. There are, as yet, no exhibition dates for this year.
My evenings have been spent compiling the product database for my soon-to-be-updated website (www.tait-gallery.co.uk). My web designer, Igor Mournly, should be home from his Swedish holiday sometime this incoming week, and I would like to have all my groundwork done for his return. The sooner we get the new system up and running, the happier I will be. Dare I hope for richer?
May you have riches untold this week!
Work on the two commissioned paintings has continued apace, but it has been to the exclusion of other artwork, which has to wait its turn. There are, as yet, no exhibition dates for this year.
My evenings have been spent compiling the product database for my soon-to-be-updated website (www.tait-gallery.co.uk). My web designer, Igor Mournly, should be home from his Swedish holiday sometime this incoming week, and I would like to have all my groundwork done for his return. The sooner we get the new system up and running, the happier I will be. Dare I hope for richer?
May you have riches untold this week!
SIMON KING'S SHETLAND
I watched the final episode, as I did the previous two, of Simon King's Shetland, on BBC2 on Thursday evening. As did, I suspect, most of the population of my native islands, I couldn't help being affected by his obvious love for this archipelago and its wildlife. It has to be said that the summer he picked for this enterprise was one of the best in living memory, although I suspect that, had it rained for most of the time (as it did only 200 miles south in Aberdeen), his enthusiasm would have been none the less. After all, he did see the other less beneficent side of the place during a winter visit too.
The series had some breathtaking scenes, such as abseiling down the cliffs of Noss to place mini-cameras at a gannet's nest, and the winter crossing of a burn in spate at the beach "up nort". It also had its comical interludes, such as the visit to Lastditchology, and little Savannah chasing a "shalder". All of these elements, and the spectacular otter, killer whale and gannet photography, combine to make this a memorable series.
Now I wonder how Shetland is going to cope with the multitude of visitors who will descend, like a plague of clod-hopping locusts, on the islands next summer. No doubt they will experience the other, more familiar, kind of "simmer dim" - the one which is permanently shrouded in permadrizzle! I always feel sorry for these damp cagoule-clad pilgrims wandering the hills and roads in a fog of misery, their eyes glazed in an expression which says, "Why didn't we go to Benidorm?"
Seriously though, Simon and his family have produced a masterpiece here. The superb camera work (which was not without its problems), coupled with the presenter's knowledge of, and enthusiasm for, his subject, have resulted in one of the best ever showcases for Shetland. Whether this was his intention or not, he has produced, for the wildlife of these islands, what Aly Bain's Shetland Sessions did for its music. That is no mean achievement, and he is to be congratulated on it.
The series had some breathtaking scenes, such as abseiling down the cliffs of Noss to place mini-cameras at a gannet's nest, and the winter crossing of a burn in spate at the beach "up nort". It also had its comical interludes, such as the visit to Lastditchology, and little Savannah chasing a "shalder". All of these elements, and the spectacular otter, killer whale and gannet photography, combine to make this a memorable series.
Now I wonder how Shetland is going to cope with the multitude of visitors who will descend, like a plague of clod-hopping locusts, on the islands next summer. No doubt they will experience the other, more familiar, kind of "simmer dim" - the one which is permanently shrouded in permadrizzle! I always feel sorry for these damp cagoule-clad pilgrims wandering the hills and roads in a fog of misery, their eyes glazed in an expression which says, "Why didn't we go to Benidorm?"
Seriously though, Simon and his family have produced a masterpiece here. The superb camera work (which was not without its problems), coupled with the presenter's knowledge of, and enthusiasm for, his subject, have resulted in one of the best ever showcases for Shetland. Whether this was his intention or not, he has produced, for the wildlife of these islands, what Aly Bain's Shetland Sessions did for its music. That is no mean achievement, and he is to be congratulated on it.
Sunday, 14 February 2010
ISLANDS IN THE SUN
Yesterday morning, my sister Thelma and I set off to visit our mother in the Wastview Care Centre at Walls, where she is enjoying a fortnight's respite care. Seldom have I seen these islands looking as spectacularly beautiful, and never have I more regretted not having a camera with me.
The west side of Shetland was bathed in weak sunshine and there was no wind to ruffle the surface of the lochs and voes, which were partly iced over. Several species of duck could be seen in the water at the head of Weisdale Voe and, near the Walls marina, a group of seals were putting on a display of aquabatics to entertain the residents of the care centre. The hills, which were still mottled with the remnants of the late January snow, were perfectly mirrored in the glassy water below them. Every prospect pleased.
Today, the weather has broken, with a strong southerly wind blowing rain across the islands. The met office is forecasting rain, gales, sleet and snow for the remainder of the incoming week, so I will cherish the visual memory of yesterday during the dark days ahead. Brrr! I hope your prospects are better!
The west side of Shetland was bathed in weak sunshine and there was no wind to ruffle the surface of the lochs and voes, which were partly iced over. Several species of duck could be seen in the water at the head of Weisdale Voe and, near the Walls marina, a group of seals were putting on a display of aquabatics to entertain the residents of the care centre. The hills, which were still mottled with the remnants of the late January snow, were perfectly mirrored in the glassy water below them. Every prospect pleased.
Today, the weather has broken, with a strong southerly wind blowing rain across the islands. The met office is forecasting rain, gales, sleet and snow for the remainder of the incoming week, so I will cherish the visual memory of yesterday during the dark days ahead. Brrr! I hope your prospects are better!
ARTWORK, LINKS AND SALES
One of my regular clients bought the painting of Boyndie Bay (above) this week. I spent some time last night and this morning wrapping the picture, ready for its journey to Surrey, which begins tomorrow morning. At the same time, I'll also be dispatching a print to the Argyll region. These things all help to pay the bills, and keep my self-employment as an artist ticking over. This is also helped by my occasional commissions, and I have been working on two of these this week. On Friday, word came by email of another possible commission, this time of a multiple portrait, which is rather an exciting project. This, however, is in the early stages of negotiation, and may yet come to nought - I'll keep you posted on developments.
I finished work on the new Links page of the website, http://www.tait-gallery.co.uk/, this week, and this is going to be followed by many more new features, taking many hours of work to realise. My next task is to finish compiling the product database for the new e-commerce system, which should be up and running within the next month or so. On the subject of admin work, I have yet to start on my accounts for 2009/10, a job which I will have to make time for very soon. So much work, so little time....
I finished work on the new Links page of the website, http://www.tait-gallery.co.uk/, this week, and this is going to be followed by many more new features, taking many hours of work to realise. My next task is to finish compiling the product database for the new e-commerce system, which should be up and running within the next month or so. On the subject of admin work, I have yet to start on my accounts for 2009/10, a job which I will have to make time for very soon. So much work, so little time....
SPAM UNDERPINNINGS
A couple of days ago, I received a letter from a well-known mail order company, explaining to me the reasons why I really needed the black underwired bra, as illustrated by the photograph on the right-hand side of the page. I dutifully studied the picture of the smiling young woman, who, I felt, little required the underpinning, and came to the conclusion that no more did I. I am aware that my man-boobs have increased in size over the years, but gravity has not yet impacted on them to any great extent.
Among the many unnecessary and unsolicited items delivered to me by already overburdened postmen each week, perhaps the the ones which are consigned, with the greatest force, unopened, to the bin, are the offers of pills, potions and other quasi-pharmaceutical products and treatments. They claim to cure back pain, joint inflammation, haemorrhoids, penile deficiencies and hair loss, as well as a plethora of women's complaints. Those which appear in my email inbox are equally personal and irritating, and are just as summarily dealt with. Items from insurance companies get similarly harsh treatment (but I'll save these for a special posting later!).
My business adviser, web designer and friend Igor Mournly informs me that the spammers only need one response in a thousand sent emails to make their enterprise worthwhile. I am amazed that even this proportion can be stupid enough to respond to such material. Actually, many of the purported purveyors of medical aids to sexual deficiency seem to have given me up as a lost cause - I haven't heard from them for some time. Either that, or my Kaspersky internet security package is preventing them from getting as far as my inbox. What I tend to get more of nowadays is offers of relationships with Russian women. I haven't the heart to tell them that, for me, the sun is a bit far west for such activity, and I had difficulty enough understanding women of my own nationality, without introducing a language problem into the equation. So, with a sigh, I consign these beautiful girls, reluctantly, to my Deleted Items folder - sorry, Ludmila, Olga and Tatiana!
I think many of these spam messages are franchised in some way. I tend to get identical emails from several different sources simultaneously. Over the course of a few days, about a year ago, I was bombarded with similar messages, claiming to be from different people, offering me teeth-whitening. Sadly this fell on stony ground too, as my teeth ceased to be an issue more than thirty years ago. Tell you what, though - I've got really hard gums!
Maybe I should take the mail order company up on the bra offer - I wonder what size I am......
Among the many unnecessary and unsolicited items delivered to me by already overburdened postmen each week, perhaps the the ones which are consigned, with the greatest force, unopened, to the bin, are the offers of pills, potions and other quasi-pharmaceutical products and treatments. They claim to cure back pain, joint inflammation, haemorrhoids, penile deficiencies and hair loss, as well as a plethora of women's complaints. Those which appear in my email inbox are equally personal and irritating, and are just as summarily dealt with. Items from insurance companies get similarly harsh treatment (but I'll save these for a special posting later!).
My business adviser, web designer and friend Igor Mournly informs me that the spammers only need one response in a thousand sent emails to make their enterprise worthwhile. I am amazed that even this proportion can be stupid enough to respond to such material. Actually, many of the purported purveyors of medical aids to sexual deficiency seem to have given me up as a lost cause - I haven't heard from them for some time. Either that, or my Kaspersky internet security package is preventing them from getting as far as my inbox. What I tend to get more of nowadays is offers of relationships with Russian women. I haven't the heart to tell them that, for me, the sun is a bit far west for such activity, and I had difficulty enough understanding women of my own nationality, without introducing a language problem into the equation. So, with a sigh, I consign these beautiful girls, reluctantly, to my Deleted Items folder - sorry, Ludmila, Olga and Tatiana!
I think many of these spam messages are franchised in some way. I tend to get identical emails from several different sources simultaneously. Over the course of a few days, about a year ago, I was bombarded with similar messages, claiming to be from different people, offering me teeth-whitening. Sadly this fell on stony ground too, as my teeth ceased to be an issue more than thirty years ago. Tell you what, though - I've got really hard gums!
Maybe I should take the mail order company up on the bra offer - I wonder what size I am......
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