“No Ruined Stone” by Paul Duke

(c) Paul Duke

Paul Duke’s new book of photography, No Ruined Stone, reminds us that the places in which we grow up rarely leave us, they exert a pull across the decades and often force us in later life to re-examine how we have become the person we are today.

Muirhouse, built in the 1950s as a council estate to the west of Edinburgh has had a troubled recent history with substandard high-rise housing, chronic unemployment and endemic drug use among many of its younger residents creating seemingly intractable social problems. It has also had a reputation for strong community spirit and looking after its own as Scottish legends and former Muirhouse residents, Gordon Strachan and Irvine Welsh, can attest to. Photographer, Paul Duke, also grew-up in Muirhouse, and although he left to study and then work in London, family roots have repeatedly drawn him back and recently he decided that photography was the ideal way to re-connect with the community that dominated his childhood years.

In, No Ruined Stone, Paul’s black and white landscapes and portrait photographs are enigmatic and loaded with the kind of symbolism that only someone with a deep and complex knowledge of Muirhouse could achieve. Long-overdue re-development of the housing stock is re-shaping the estates and the clash between undergoing construction and the natural world that tenaciously clings on around these zones provides many of the strongest images in the book. Locals, who Paul encounters in and around the neighborhood, are photographed as they are found, the exchange seems natural and there is little attempt made to heroise.

To find out more about this new body of work, Document Scotland asked Paul to elaborate on the impetus for returning to Muirhouse to shoot the photographs which make up No Ruined Stone.

(c) Paul Duke

DocScot: Tell us about your history with Muirhouse? How has it changed since your early days there?

PD: I was raised in Muirhouse and lived there for the first eighteen-years of my life. Despite the fact that poor social conditions made it a very tough place to grow up, I had a very happy and loving childhood there. My formative years were greatly shaped by a strong maternal influence and two inspiring and very brilliant young art teachers at school, Richard White and Maldwyn Stride. My mother brought up two boys on her own, it wasn’t easy for her emotionally nor financially, but she was determined to keep us out of trouble and instilled in us both, strong moral values. My brother, like me, went onto study at the Royal College of Art in London – that meant everything to her, to break the mould of expectation for young men from a deprived Scottish housing estate.

My father moved back close to the area some time after my mother left, so I returned fairly frequently to visit him. I still have relatives who live in the area to this day.

The physical change has been significant – my house, school and a big chunk of the original Muirhouse estate have been razed to the ground as part of an urban regeneration scheme. However, many of the social ills that dogged the area back in my early days are still unfortunately prevalent.

DocScot: When and how did the idea come to you to take a series of photos? Were you focussed on what you wanted to achieve or were you just seeing what you saw?

PD: I knew during the making of the ‘At Sea’ project that I wanted to return to Scotland to make more work. Both my parents passed away around that period of time therefore it felt timely to continue to explore my own Scottish identity as well as this notion of national identity, which interests me greatly.

There was a strong pull to go back to my roots and I knew from the beginning that I wanted to make a body of work that celebrated the fighting spirit, dignity and hope of the residents living there today – I was very focused on that but always kept my eyes open. I made the project over two years so it was a very organic and intuitive experience. Working with a large format camera slowed down the process of making photographs – this was intentional. I also wanted to play with the visual language, to create a narrative that struck the balance between objective documentary and a subjective project.

(c) Paul Duke

DocScot: How did you explain to interested observers what you were upto?

PD: Muirhouse is a small close-knit community and word gets around quickly. I made early visits to walk around and meet people before I started making any photographs. After that, I made regular monthly visits and never missed a trip over the whole period of making the project – it was really important to be consistent. Residents therefore got used to seeing me around, trust and familiarity followed. The warmth, kindness and support I experienced when I explained what I was doing, was humbling.

DocScot: Was it important to shoot in overcast or non-summer weather?

PD: The most important thing was to always keep things free. I never allowed myself to get caught-up in lighting preference as I had no control over that – everything was shot with natural light. I made the most of the light I had to work with on any given day and enjoyed the challenge.

DocScot: How did the book come about?

Last year, I approached German photo book publisher, Hartmann Books. Markus Hartmann was previously director of photography at Hatje-Cantz before setting up his own publishing company. Markus was raised in Berlin and I think the photographs and subsequent social message I had created struck a personal chord with him. Markus and his team were therefore very keen to publish the series.

DocScot: What kind of future do you think Muirhouse has and are you likely to have any role in that?

PD: In terms of the residents, yes, Muirhouse has a good future. I had the great privilege to make friends with a handful of dynamic, committed and inspiring community activists. If developers and politicians consult these individuals and others like them over the course of time, then I am confident that Muirhouse will successfully deal with the pressing social inequities that exist, but only with their consultation.

I have no immediate plans to take on any active role but I have expressed some future involvement. However, I do hope in the interim that the content of the book highlights social inequity, challenges deep-rooted class prejudice and offers a far-reaching insight into a deprived and disenfranchised community.

(c) Paul Duke

DocScot: What you are up to in the short-medium term and how is your photographic practice developing.

PD: I am currently developing a new project, again based in Scotland. It’s still in the germination period so not a lot to expand on at this stage, but I do hope to start shooting in earnest this coming September. This project will form the third and final part of a trilogy of works exploring modern day Scotland.

Many thanks to Paul for the interview and for sharing his work. The book, No Ruined Stone, is published by Hartmann Projects and can be bought here…http://www.hartmannprojects.com/publications/paul-duke-publication

(c) Paul Duke

(c) Paul Duke

(c) Paul Duke

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Homage to Catalonia

On the day the Catalonian government announces it plans for independence from Spain, Stephen McLaren recounts his experiences from there in the week leading- up to the tumultuous vote.

© Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

A yes sign displayed in the streets of Catalonia © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

I first strolled down the famous Ramblas of Barcelona in the summer of 1991. This was a year before the city would be the host for the 25th Olympic Games which would prove to be so successful in raising Barcelona’s international profile. In front of the worlds tv cameras the games were used by Barcelona’s government to revitalise its urban core and announce itself as a world class city, open to curious travellers and lovers of Modernista architecture, glorious food and new Mediterranean styles. I was one of those early Scottish visitors with pesetas in my pocket to revel in the city’s tapas bars and uber-stylish nightclubs.

A group of African boys at the Barcelona v Girona football game © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

At the foot of the Ramblas graffiti scrawled on a wall announced, “Catalonia is not Spain”. This surprised my 24 year old self as I thought I had travelled to Spain’s second city and to a country which had only seven years previous freed itself from the despotism of the fascist general Franco. I had yet to read Orwell’s, “Homage to Catalonia”, his gripping first-person account of the Spanish Civil War being fought in and around Barcelona, but after reading it I realised I had been naive in coming here and expecting the locals to speak the same language as other Spaniards, and to have similar politics and traditions to the Andalucians, the Madrileños and the Basques.

A banner at the recent Barcelona v Girona football game in Girona © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

It took me a while to get it but when I did I began to appreciate that Catalonia was indeed not Spain, it was proud of being its own national entity with centuries of distinct history and cultural achievements. But in 1991 Barcelona and the wider Catalan nation was still very much ruled by the politicians in Madrid who had found their voice in the post-Franco democratic era.
A few weeks ago I found myself in Barcelona again, the twentieth-or-so time I’ve visited this magical place since my first glimpse in 1991. I arrived for a short family holiday taking in Catalonia’s other urban jewel, Girona, and the seaside town of Cadaques, only ten miles from the French border and the home of the artist, Dali, but I knew that an independence referendum was being held at the end of my week’s travels and I felt duty bound to follow the build-up this landmark event with my camera.

Independence supporters in Barcelona sing the Catalan national anthem © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.


A policeman in Barcelona plays with his handcuffs during the Catalonia referendum on independence.

Having followed the ebb and flow of the 2014 independence referendum in Scotland via the competing signage of “Yes” and “No” I knew that a visual survey of posters and banners would give me an idea of the allegiances of various neighborhoods. However as I walked round the dense and fascinating barrios of Gracia, Raval, Born and Poblemou all I found was a multitude of nationalist Estelada flags and numerous Si banners in windows and public squares but nothing from the opposing camp. It quickly became obvious that those wishing to remain part of Spain were refuseniks in this campaign and were hoping that it would all just go away, perhaps by  judicial action from the Spanish state.
I left for Girona, ninety minutes up the coast, to watch a football derby between the mighty Barca and Girona FC who are always playing the plucky underdog in this fixture. The city of Girona lies at the heart of the campaign for Catalan nationhood. The politician who called the referendum, Carles Puigdemont, is a local boy and the city’s cultural calendar is full of Catalan song, dance and literature so I knew this is where I would find the heartbeat of the Si camp.

A woman in Barcelona walks past graffiti during the Catalan independence referendum © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

Before the match both sets of supporters mingled in front of the stadium grabbing pamphlets and  flags from a huge throng of boisterous Si campaigners. “Welcome to the Catalan Republic” said a huge sign, confusingly to me, in English. Amongst the older sets of fans, groups of young African boys whose families had been welcomed to Girona in recent years proudly wore flags supporting the Si message. I briefly contemplated the possibility of a Celtic Rangers game in which rival supporters coalesced around a similar political campaign and then laughed darkly to myself.
Barca would go onto win the game convincingly but with a week to go until the referendum was due to take place there was a tension around the game and in the city itself which I recognised from 2014 in Scotland. People seemed more focussed and self-conscious in public, the everyday activities of shopping for the dinner table and meeting friends in bars took on an intensity I found hard to convey in photographs. Politics is serious stuff but the politics of nationhood is always of a rawer and more intense variety as notions of identity and national allegiances play out in the public sphere.

A public notice board in Cadaques, Catalonia, announcing the independence referendum © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

In some ways the atmosphere in Girona felt similar to that which I had felt in Dundee in 2014 when it became the city most galvanised most by the Scottish independence campaign. Catalan flags were draped around many of the apartment buildings in the city, political gatherings were raucous, and the Catalan national anthem was song lustily in the beautiful winding streets of the historic city centre.

Girona in Catalonia during the independence referendum © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

Back in Barcelona with only three days to go until the vote, the tension was palpable. Tv news reports showed thousands of Spanish police being shipped-in on a huge ferry at the docks. Students were occupying their universities and groups of flag-wearing Si supporters could be found singing patriotic songs in the old section of the city. I watched several intense political street corner speeches invoking the democratic right to have a vote on self-governance and self-determination.

A dog with a Catalan flag during the independence referendum © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.


A family attending a rally for independence in Girona, Catalonia © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

Unlike in 2014 Scotland there was no-one with an opposing view to counter-balance the Si message and it wasn’t hard to work out that the Spanish governments refusal to acknowledge the vote would lead to widespread absenteeism from those who preferred to remain part of Spain.
My return ticket, booked for two days before the vote, meant I couldn’t be there to witness the police violence which marred the referendum itself but you tell it was coming. The Spanish PM, Rajoy was on TV bellowing his intransigence from an American visit to fellow strongman, Donald Trump. Police vans prowled much of the city centre and none of the boys in blue were cracking a smile. In the end those who wanted to vote were able to despite a clumsy and reprehensible crackdown from authorities in Madrid but a lack of international recognition remains a major stumbling block for those espousing Catalan nationhood as does the unwillingness of the opposing view to participate widely in a referendum.

A rally for independence in Girona, Catalonia © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.

That scrawl of graffiti on the Ramblas from 1991 which alerted me to the idea that Catalonia is not Spain is now being replaced across Barcelona with more aggressive assertions of Catalan separateness . However it remains far from certain that these demands will come to fruition in the face of a bullying state which insists on the indivisibility of Spain above all else. In the following days which will be tense and doubtlessly full of bellicose political posturing It is to be hoped that the democratic impulse and a negotiated settlement is not allowed to flounder in this most culturally rich part of Europe.

A Catalan cultural event in Girona © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.


Women running for charity in Girona, Catalonia, and supporting independence © Stephen McLaren 2017 all rights reserved.


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Big Hooses Built on the Backs of Slaves


To complete this project I decided to find the properties that were bought or originally owned by these “respectable gentlemen”. As in Jamaica, some properties were splendid country estates, others in more dilapidated condition. Several like Rozelle House in Ayrshire and Strathleven House in the Vale of Leven have been taken over by local authorities as the cost of upkeep became too large for subsequent generations.


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Harry Benson, our new honorary patron.

At home in New York

Harry Benson, at home in New York © Stephen McLaren


Document Scotland is thrilled to announce that Harry Benson CBE, one of the world’s leading photographers of the last sixty years, and a proud son of Clarkston, Glasgow, has agreed to be our honorary patron.

Harry who lives in New York and Florida, has shot so many iconic pictures from the 20th century that it would take us too long to list them, but a quick Google search will bring up legendary pictures of the Beatles, the American Civil Rights era, massive film stars and the assassination of Robert F Kennedy. Life magazine may no longer be with us, but its influence on the history of photojournalism is huge, and Harry was its most published photographer at the time it ceased publication.

Harry arrived in America in 1964 with the Beatles, but began his career by taking wedding photographs and later working for the Hamilton Advertiser in the 1950s before moving to London for the Daily Express. Since then, Harry has continued to shoot portraits, commissions and stories in Scotland much of which is showcased on his website. Most recently, he was back in Edinburgh to unveil his new portrait of the Queen which was taken for the Scottish National Portrait Gallery whilst his portraits of the last four Presiding Officers are on permanent display at the Scottish Parliament.


Harry Benson unveils his new portrait of Queen Elizabeth II at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh,  July 2014. © Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert

Harry Benson unveils his new portrait of Queen Elizabeth II at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh, July 2014. © Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert


Stephen McLaren recently paid a visit to Harry and his wife Gigi, who makes all of his prints.  They enjoyed a conversation about photography, football and Scotland.  Despite being in his 80s, Harry shoots every other day and spoke of a recent assignment to photograph fashion icon Carolina Herrera.
When asked about his philosophy, Harry passed on a few thoughts which should stand any documentary photographer in good stead:  “If you work hard you are inclined to get lucky in photography.  Try to get out of the studio, in my opinion anything you can re-do is not good photography.  Pictures should have an edge about them, a good picture cannot happen again.  A moment that is frozen in time – it’s obvious to me this is what great photography is all about.


Glasgow Housewives with US Navy , © Harry Benson

Glasgow Housewives with US Navy , © Harry Benson


“‘Each a glimpse and gone forever,’ is my favourite line from the Robert Louis Stevenson poem From A Railway Carriage. It’s about a boy riding in a train, watching scene after scene go by. And to me that is what a photograph is, a glimpse caught and then gone forever.”

As someone who always seemed to be at the right place at the right time it is no surprise to learn that he is an incredibly self-motivated and driven photographer. “I do admire other photographers and their work, but I am more interested in looking at their pictures and asking myself if I could have shot it better.”

Document Scotland’s photographers hope that they can learn from Harry Benson’s dedication to his craft and emulate his longevity in the photography world.


Glasgow Dior Fashion Show, 1957 © Harry Benson

Glasgow Dior Fashion Show, 1957 © Harry Benson



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The “Games” and Dalmarnock, by Chris Leslie

Three cheers for the Commonwealth Games. The metal stick aka “the Queen’s Baton” which she kindly loaned-out for a series of global jogs has traversed the old pink section of the global atlas and has now entered Glaswegian orbit after a dash across Scotia’s hills, glens and shopping centres.

I remember the 1974 Games in Edinburgh vaguely but can’t remember it being such a big deal as today, so what has changed? Well “regeneration” is now deemed to be the prime reason for this sporting colossus. No more, a chance to find out who is the best lawn bowler in the firmament, this Commonwealth Games is being used as a “once in a lifetime” opportunity to “regenerate” an old and chronically poor section of the Dear Green Place, the Eastend.

Olympic cities like Barcelona, Beijing, and London have all used global sporting spectacles to revamp/re-imagine/re-brand parts of the city that were deemed blighted and un-loved. Glasgow has done likewise and so on Wednesday the tv cameras will be sweeping along new boulevards and over shiny metallic sports complexes where once was a mixture of council estates and spare ground. The community of Dalmarnock has borne the brunt of this disruption or regeneration, depending on how you see it, and photographer, Chris Leslie has documented the upheaval and the bitterness that has resulted from this massive change in the fabric of this part of Glasgow. We caught up with Chris recently to find out why he was compelled to shoot this project.

Commonwealth Games in Dalmarnock eviction

Ardenlea St – March 2008. A section of the abandoned flats are set on fire by vandals and are then demolished by the council. Margaret Jaconelli is living next door at the time as the only tenant in the street.


Why did you decide to feature this side of the Games?

I was studying an MA in Documentary Photography at the time and I had to do a final project over 2 years to submit as part of my MA and at that time I was living in the in Bridgeton, next door to Dalmarnock so when the commonwealth games announcement was made it seemed the perfect project to document and it was a chance for me to finally get round to documenting my home city.

What did you know of Dalmarnock before? What surprised you of the area?

Despite living round the corner literally, I knew nothing of Dalmarnock, and to be honest no-one in Glasgow knew anything either. I spent the first few weeks wandering around photographing the empty landscapes – but there was in many ways nothing to photograph! The place was empty but there was a buzz in the air that something, everything was going to change – so I persevered and kept wandering and researching.

Margaret Jaconelli Eviction Dalmarnock

March 2011 – Margaret Jaconelli and her husband Jack barricade themselves in their home awaiting the sheriff’s officers to evict them. For three days their home is besieged by local press and TV

How were you received by community members? 

The first person I actually met and spoke to was Margaret Jaconelli. I didn’t even notice her at first as I was photographing the empty and partially destroyed Ardenlea St. I heard a wee voice shout hello and when I looked again I see this wifie hanging out her window. I chatted with her on the street for over 2 hours and she told me her story and her pending fight against eviction. I went on to document Margaret’s story for over 3 years as she was finally forcibly evicted from her flat in March 2011.

As well as Margaret I also photographed and interviewed some of the Dalmarnock youth and spent some time in the community centre with the pensioners. The youth were happy with the chance of work, lots of apprenticeships were being offered – although no-one at any stage seemed to be offering them the chance to be managers or engineers – it was as if there was a certain level of expectation placed upon them and the area. The elderly population was just glad that after 30 years of decline that something was finally going to change, but they continually reminisced about the good old days when Dalmarnock was once a thriving community.

Margaret Jaconelli Eviction Dalmarnock

March 2011 – After a four hour siege and enforced eviction by around 100 police and sheriff officers, Margaret and her husband Jack are finally evicted from their home.

How is Dalmarnock’s future looking? Will you continue to photograph there after the Games?

After 30 years of post industrial decline, poverty, depopulation and general misery Dalmarnock is of course looking reborn with the athletes village and sports arena’s and so on. But you could have plonked a brand new shiny Tesco’s in the middle of Dalmarnock and that would have welcomed with open arms because the area was in such a state for years.

It would be good to go back and revisit some people post Commonwealth Games to see what has changed for them. A before and after set up of the built environment would be good also, but a real headache to work out as old Dalmarnock doesn’t exist anymore, even the roads have changed. For now there is a lot of speculation and complaints about the security fencing around the area, but that for me is not a big story because if you look around, most of Glasgow is in lock down it seems for the games and these fences and restrictions will be gone in a matter of weeks.

But for me what will be more interesting is looking longer term at the proposed legacy of the games, and to see if anything has actually benefitted the local population as surely that would be the whole point of transforming one of the poorest and neglected areas in the country?

Pre Commonwealth Games in Dalmarnock

April 2008 – Dalmarnock lad – Tony stands amongst the rubble of the demolished high rise flats in Dalmarnock. He offers me a piece of priceless ‘Dalmarnock Rock’ as a souvenir as the land in the area begins to be sold off and cleared to make way for the games.

Pre Commonwealth Games in Dalmarnock

The community of Dalmarnock prior to the development of the sites for the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow in 2014.  Much of these areas have now completely disappeared over the past few years – 2008 to 2011

Margaret Jaconelli Eviction DalmarnockMargaret Jaconelli fought a long battle against eviction from her home in Ardenlea St, Dalmarnock. Here flat sat on the site for the Athletes Village for the Commonwealth Games is to be built in Glasgow.



Pre Commonwealth Games in DalmarnockPre Commonwealth Games in DalmarnockDemolition in Dalmarnock

August 2012 – The last remnants of ‘Old Dalmarnock’ are demolished



See more of Chris’s work at http://www.chrisleslie.com




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Alan McCredie, 100 Weeks of Scotland

Flodden field on the 500th anniversary of the Battle of Flodden, Alan McCredie ©

Flodden field on the 500th anniversary of the Battle of Flodden. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


Alan McCredie, an Edinburgh-based photographer, had the genesis of a great project-idea in October 2012. Realising that the Independence referendum was exactly 100 weeks in the future, he decided he would start “100 Weeks of Scotland”, a photographic endeavour to record events and scenes from all over Scotland in the lead up to the referendum. As Alan on the website (100weeksofscotland.com) says…

“It is intended to show all sides of the country over the next two years. Whatever the result of the vote Scotland will be a different country afterward. These images will show a snapshot of the country in the run up to the referendum. The photos will be of all aspects of Scottish culture – politics, art, social issues, sport and anything else that catches the eye.”

Many projects which sound like a “great idea” at the time often falter as real-life intrudes on the ability to shoot relentlessly on the same topic. However Alan has stuck with it, shooting across the whole of the country week-in, week-out, and now the end of the project is coming over the horizon.

Astutely he managed to get the Scotsman interested in showcasing his weekly photo digests and has thus given him a good platform to leverage the project and make it a decent proposition for a book and exhibition.

Alan covers many different subjects in the project, occasionally shooting around work for his main clients in the theatre, fashion and design industries. One week it may be wintery landscapes, the next it might be a series of portraits of a soap opera. In addition to a wide range of subjects, Alan also writes thoughtfully on his topics and brings a lot of contextual information which make you want to know more about what he has been shooting.

Eilidh C. , Alan McCredie ©

Eilidh C. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


In addition this project, Alan is a member of the Independence-leaning arts group, National Collective. He enjoys working collaboratively with about six other photographers from the group and there is a current joint-project for coming up with a series of National Collective posters which might run in bus shelters or online campaigns. On his featured page on the website, Alan explains his vision for a post-referendum Scotland: “The essence of the Scotland I would like to live in – entirely inclusive, welcoming, and most of all outward looking in its beliefs and ideas. Only through a rich exchange of different viewpoints and attitudes can a country truly be said to be wealthy”

Certainly the Independence referendum seems to have galvanized many artists and writers in Scotland to contribute in some way to the “national conversation” that is supposed to be accompanying the referendum in its passage through Scottish civic society. The conversation may occasionally get a bit shouty but it is giving many people with a creative voice, including photographers, an opportunity to explore more personal stories close to home. Ironically as newspapers cut back on the number of photojournalists they employ so the number of photographers developing strong documentary projects, like 100 Weeks of Scotland, seems to be on the rise.

“Documentary photography in Scotland is very strong at the moment, there seem to be lots more people doing it, more of a sense of not working alone. Working with the National Collective has been great in that I enjoy working collaboratively and knocking ideas about. And sometime you just want to be able to ask a daft question about how a bit of your camera works! It’s good that the National Collective now have a dedicated space down in Leith called the Art Cave, and I’m looking forward to putting on a mini-exhibition of 100 Weeks of Scotland down there in the spring.”

Document Scotland enjoyed picking some favourite images from Alan’s project to accompany this blog but we also wanted to hear some anecdotes about specific images from the photographer.

Centrepoint, Alan McCredie ©

Centrepoint Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


“I had been photographing the many places that claim to be the ‘centre of Scotland’ and this was one of those places. I had done a lot of research beforehand and had consulted maps and other photos to work out exactly where to photograph. I had checked this location on Google Street View before setting off and it was a little uninspiring. I didn’t really hold out too much hope for a decent shot. As I got to the exact location according to my GPS, I genuinely could not quite believe it when I saw the road sign at the edge of the road. It points almost directly to one of the supposed centre points of Scotland (follow the arrow about two-thirds up the hill). There were roadworks nearby and I suppose the sign was placed there accidentally. I think it shows that it can sometimes just take a small stroke of luck to give a shot that little extra.”


Hogmanay Bins. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.



Greek Orthodox Priest, Alan McCredie ©

Greek Orthodox Priest. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.

“This image was a very quick portrait and one that I like a lot. I had been working for the Carnegie UK Trust and was photographing one of their events. As soon as I saw the priest I really wanted to get a shot of him. I kept circling, but didn’t want to intrude as he was deep in conversation. Moments before he left I finally got my chance and I asked if I could take his portrait. I don’t think he was too sure about it and I took one shot, before he turned to go. I don’t think I could have got a better one if I had shot fifty more and I don’t think I would have asked him to stand the way he did if I had had more time. It is his positioning, and body shape that makes the image work for me.”

Alan McCredie ©

Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


Barber Van, Alan McCredie ©

Barber Van. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


“I was lost in an industrial estate of endless roundabouts in Stirling when I spotted this barber van. I drove up to it and took a few shots and then drove on. I stopped for petrol a few minutes later and quickly checked the images. They were OK but it was fairly obvious it really needed somebody in the shot to make it work. I headed back and realised that, actually, I really did need a haircut. 15 minutes later, freshly shorn, I took a few images of the owner of the van and drove on. £6.50 for a pretty good haircut, and a nice image was well worth it.”


Leith Academy School Prom 2013, Alan McCredie ©

Leith Academy School Prom 2013. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


“This is one of my favourite images. I was doing some images of a high school prom as a favour for a friend and had been snapping away as the kids arrived. The moment I saw this couple enter I knew I had to get a shot of them. At first it was difficult to get them not to smile so I photographed away knowing I would get my chance eventually. After not too long they were very quickly getting bored and this was the last, and best, and best frame that I shot. Essentially I bored them into getting the image I wanted.”


Burger Van, Alan McCredie ©

Burger Van. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


Seafront at Arbroath, Alan McCredie ©

Seafront at Arbroath. Photograph © Alan McCredie, all rights reserved.


See more of Alan’s Scottish photo-odyssey at www.100weeksofscotland.com.






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Sandy Carson “Steadfast Love”


Curly with Hammer © Sandy Carson all rights reserved


Sandy Carson is a Scottish photographer now living in Austin, Texas. He is an established photojournalist in America and has rarely been back to Scotland. Recently however, he returned to catch-up with his family in Newmains, Lanarkshire and started a series of photographs about his folks called, Steadfast Love, a series of intimate portraits including archive material that his mum has collected over the years. Document Scotland caught-up with Sandy in San Francisco where he was working on his excellent project, “Black Friday”, which you can see on his website…..www.sandycarson.com


DS What was it like going back to your family home to take pictures with a degree of intent?

SC When I started making the photos I didn’t have any intention, other than to take back some memories of home, but after numerous visits over the years, the photos began to navigate towards a narrative, based on my family and their immediate surroundings. I do have specific photographs I intend to make each time I go back since the project has some structure now but it’s really casual and mostly candid. It’s interesting making observational pictures of your parents and their routines when you don’t see them from one year to another but despite how bland and ritualistic it can be, I find it always entertaining.


Curly hanging out the washing © Sandy Carson all rights reserved


(C) Sandy Carson

© Sandy Carson all rights reserved


DS What were you looking for?

SC  To make a respectful and light hearted self-portrait of my parents in their retirement and to document the village that I grew up since I emigrated at such a young age. My parents are getting old and after being in the States for two decades, I feel like my photography can help me understand them more from the chunk of time I’ve been absent in the family. My family are quite content and support anything I’m doing really, just as long as I’m afloat and eating ok. They are not connected to the internet world and rarely see my photos unless a family member reports to them what I’ve been up to on the internet. I send prints occasionally, a few of them they don’t like so much and think I’m daft when I am making photos of them. My mother has a collection of family photos, dictaphone tapes and artifacts she keeps in a big biscuit tin that date back to the 40’s onwards, all shot by different family members, passed on from my grandfather, who was an artist. Those snapshots and sound-bites had quite an influence on me growing up and I enjoy revisiting the nostalgia each time I go home.


Mum’s prayer book © Sandy Carson all rights reserved



Mary Doll © Sandy Carson all rights reserved


DS What was your camera set-up when taking the pics close to home? Why did you make that choice?

SC I made the photographs using 35mm, medium and large format. I find that the bigger the format, the more quality time I can spend with my family or subjects in set-up time – just slowing life down in general. I’ve shot digital on occasion but didn’t like the process or the end result. There just wasn’t any magic or nostalgic physicality to the digital files versus a piece of film. My family are old school and I feel like it’s only fair to shoot analogue with the aesthetic. It’s also nice to take a break from using digital cameras when I got back, as I use them to death for my commercial and editorial work, here in the states.

DS Tell us something about your family as individuals and as a family unit?

SC They are just your average Scottish working class retirees and comedians battling on and keeping each other going. They vacation in Spain like a lot of Scotland holidays makers and support Glasgow Rangers, despite their epic fail in the premiere league. In-house bar opens at 9pm every night, (sometimes earlier).


Dinner © Sandy Carson all rights reserved


Sandy Carson's parents (C) Sandy Carson

© Sandy Carson all rights reserved


DS When was the last time you were in Scotland? What changes have you noticed? What were the biggest challenges taking pictures, both on the road, and nearer to home?

SC I came back last summer for a visit with my girlfriend. It hasn’t changed around where I grew up, except for graffiti being painted over, or the local neds changing their gang names. It’s always been a challenge and kind of scary making photos sometimes in schemes. I’ve definitely been swung-at, chased and asked why I am taking photos, even by children. The last thing I want is to get stabbed again! Why else would I take photos in schemes if I’m not from the Social Security? On the road and out of the scheme, you just become another tourists taking photos pretty much.


Police station © Sandy Carson all rights reserved



Swing Park © Sandy Carson all rights reserved



Neighborhood Question © Sandy Carson all rights reserved


DS What are your plans for further photography in Scotland?

SC I plan on continuing this project and see what corner it takes me, or until I think it’s done. I’m planning on riding my bike with some friends from John O’Groats to Land’s End this summer, which should make for a good adventure and good photo ops. Maybe we’ll stop through my parents house for a cuppa?


Mum watching Tour de France © Sandy Carson all rights reserved



Mum’s nightstand © Sandy Carson all rights reserved



Primary School and 70th birthday portraits © Sandy Carson all rights reserved



Mum’s slippers © Sandy Carson all rights reserved

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A’ Fàgail na Dachaigh: Leaving Home

Bed Springs, Lewis, 2012, © Ian Paterson


Ian Paterson and John Maher are two photographers who found themselves covering the same subject matter in the Hebrides and decided it would be best to join forces and present their work as a joint exhibition and potential book. Document Scotland, a great believer in photographers finding common cause and pooling resources, wanted to find out more about their inspiring and very different take on the social history of  the Western Isles.

Paterson and Maher’s exhibition, “‘A’ Fàgail na Dachaigh: Leaving Home’”, has just opened at An Lanntair,in Stornoway. This choice of venue is supremely apt as the photography concentrates on the interiors of abandoned croft houses strewn across the Western Hebrides. Rusty cars, dissolving into peaty landscapes are well known in this part of the world, but less well known are the scores of stony croft houses which fell into disrepair when owners vacated them in the post-war movement of Islanders to towns and cities elsewhere in Scotland, but also abroad.

John Maher, an Englishman, who used to be in the band The Buzzcocks, moved to Harris several years ago and became a photographer. Paterson is from Fife and has been making regular visits to the Hebrides to try and capture the sense of sadness and loss that pervades these ruins. Document Scotland caught up with Ian recently and got him to explain his fascination with the abandoned croft homes of the Western Isles.

Absent, North Uist, 2012  (c) Ian Paterson

Absent, North Uist, 2012 © Ian Paterson


It’s difficult to remember my first visit since it was many years ago, in the 1980’s, and I very much regarded these homes as a normal part of the Hebridean landscape. I’ve always been aware of them but only relatively recently decided to take photographs. It is always an incredibly emotive experience going into a house for the very first time. I usually spend a good 20-30 minutes just taking things in before the camera comes out. It is impossible to be in these sorts of locations without stopping and thinking about the family that used to live there. I’ve described the experience before as ‘Marie-Celestial’, if you’ll allow me to invent a phrase.

The houses we have photographed have been empty anytime from the 1960’s to within the last decade. Houses that have been empty for longer than this tend to have very little left in the way of evidence of habitation.The reasons for leaving vary but are often economic in nature. The general depopulation of the islands throughout the last century (mainly on account of a lack of economic opportunity in comparison with the mainland) has to be the principal cause. There is also the more local situation whereby a family would find it cheaper and easier to create a ‘new build’ house on a more suitable part of the croft rather than renovate the existing property. Many of the original houses were built before the road system, near the water’s edge, with boat being the main method of transportation. There is no intended political message about land management and/or ownership. We are purely interested in documenting these wonderful spaces for what they represent to the people of the islands. It is not an area we are ignorant of though, being acutely aware of the various community buyout programs that have taken place and are presently under negotiation. Our sole purpose is to preserve a visual record, with accompanying memoirs, of a small proportion of the houses that now lie empty up and down the Western Isles.

Table and Chairs, Lewis, 2013  (c) Ian Paterson

Table and Chairs, Lewis, 2013 ©  Ian Paterson


Clock and Mirror, Harris, 2012  (c) Ian Paterson

Clock and Mirror, Harris, 2012 © Ian Paterson

We’ve actually had fantastic support from both locals, and previous tenants, on seeing the photographs online. To be honest we were expecting some negative feedback too, with the subject matter being of such a sensitive nature. After all, not everyone will have only happy memories and there are some who may not want to be reminded of harder times at all. Several previous occupants of houses (some whose families still own the crofts) have been in touch having seen them on Facebook or our exhibition website. We cannot thank these individuals enough for taking the time to get in touch and we’re hoping to meet some of them at the opening this weekend. We’ve also received very emotional messages from people who left the islands for the New World 30-40 years ago and for whom the images represent a trip down memory lane. I’m sure there will also be people who do not like the idea of what the project embodies, and this is completely understandable too. We have tried incredibly hard to talk with family members and locals at every step of the process, and to be honest without their support we probably would not have been able to put together the exhibition at An Lanntair.

Blue Bedroom, South Uist, 2012  (c) Ian Paterson

Blue Bedroom, South Uist, 2012 © Ian Paterson

We don’t open cupboards or move furniture around so we only see what lies in front of us but the two most common items that we come across seem to be old shoes and dead sheep! In fact my young son Cameron asked me why they didn’t just make the houses out of the stuff the old shoes are made from since then they would last forever. Old black and white photographs were present in several of the houses with many depicting naval scenes, many of the menfolk from these crofting families after WWII would have gone off to the Merchant Navy. A house I photographed a few years ago on South Uist had a copy of a Burlingtons fashion catalogue dated 1962 lying on the bed in a wee back room. The pages were bone dry and the colours in the magazine were as if they’d been printed yesterday. Other items we’ve come across include an old cine film projector, TV sets, outboard motors, Gaelic bibles and old telephones.

There was one situation last year when I’d been in a house for about an hour photographing a room, trying to get different compositions and playing around with perspective. Out of nowhere there was the sound of someone crashing down the stairs in the centre of the house. I panicked and shouted out my name and purpose by way of an introduction – to be completely ignored by the Scottish Blackface ewe that tore passed me!

‘Leaving Home’ will run from Saturday 9th November until 31st of December at An Lanntair, Stornoway.

Bedroom, Harris, 2012  (c) Ian Paterson

Bedroom, Harris, 2012 © Ian Paterson


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“At Sea” by Paul Duke

Paul Duke, a Scottish photographer who now lives in London, has completed a series of black and white portraits of the men and women who work in the fishing industry on the North East coast.  Each subject was shot uniformly, standing against a dark backdrop in a portable studio which Paul set-up in shipyards, factories and fish processing sheds. The resulting project is called, “At Sea”.

Paul’s portraits let you know immediately that these are people involved in arduous work. You get the sense that although they are still for the portrait, that their minds are still on the job, wondering when their colleagues will call them back to the task at hand. Although the sea, the source of these livelihoods, is never seen, its smell and wetness lingers in each picture.

No sense of nostalgic hero-worship for people living arduous lives stifles the project. Paul’s generous approach to his subjects and his simple straight-on compositions remind us of that very real people still rely on the sea’s bounty for work and a wage whether they be mums or dads, school-leavers or seasoned professionals. Document Scotland was excited to hear that Paul has an up-coming book and a couple of exhibitions are about to take place also, so we wanted to  find out some more about the origins of At Sea.


When did you realise you wanted to do this project?


My wife’s grandfather was born in Macduff.  As a child she went back for summer holidays with her family along the Moray Firth.  Like myself, she is a Scot – we met at the Royal College of Art – like many young people who go to London to study – we got stuck, had a family, and have lived here ever since.  I’m sure it’s an age thing, but we started to get very homesick a number of years ago – we decided then to buy a seaside cottage along this coastline, we had an overwhelming need to have one foot back in Scotland.

Over the years I started to make friends with people from the local community.  Many, if not all, had connections or family who worked in the fishing industry in one-way or another.  I was well aware through media coverage that the fishing industry was experiencing a decline – it was the first hand stories that made me realize that it would be timely to document this community during this critical period – I didn’t want to present a nostalgic viewpoint of the industry, my intention was always to offer a pertinent comment on the present – a slice of time, if you like.


What made you go for the lit portraits with backdrop approach?


Strangely enough most of my previous project-work has been made using available light. The decision to use location lighting for this project was easy actually – one I was most comfortable with during the early stages of making the work.  I knew the project would be done over a long period of time and at different times of the year.  I had to achieve continuity in the set and I knew this approach would ensure this – I also had to make sure that every shoot was productive, and I couldn’t rely on the weather.  It was also important for me to gain parity amongst the sitters – applying a constant, in this case, quality of lighting, was both a technical and aesthetic device employed to achieve this.  The plain backdrop reinforced the idea of commonality – many of the locations I used were busy places with lots of activity and clutter – it was necessary therefore to remove these distractions, to democratize the portrait and encourage the viewer to focus on the sitter, the gaze.  Again as another measure to support this I shot in black and white – I needed to strip it down to its core – I wanted to simplify the language.


How did you find your subjects?


One of the first things I had to find and organize before I started shooting was good locations.  This was a slow process and it took time to get the trust and permission to set-up my portable studio in these busy working environments.  There were certain key people who made this possible, and with their help, I started to find good spaces.  I quickly found a routine, I would set-up early in the morning, get everything ready, then go out and chat to people.  I would let them know where I was based for the day, and they would come and find me.  It’s fair to say, there was a lot of hanging around, I had to be patient and some days were better than others.


Were you seeking-out specific kinds of faces?


During the making of the work I was happy to engage with everybody and couldn’t be too choosy about whom I wanted or didn’t want to shoot.  Although people were warm and accommodating, it was a challenge finding subjects comfortable enough to have their picture taken.  It was a very alien task for many to down tools, so to speak, to stand in front of a camera in the workplace, in front of their friends and workmates and it was hard to keep the sitters attention.  I worked very quickly and always on my own – 6×7 medium format camera, one roll of film per sitter – 10 shots.  Each portrait was done in a 5-minute time span – there was no choice really, it was the only way to get the portrait in frenetic surroundings.

After I stopped shooting, and during editing for the exhibitions and book, I made decisions regarding the type of faces and people I wanted to use.  During the process of shooting I wanted to concentrate on getting the portraits – it took time, focus and energy just doing this, so I understood quite early on in the project that I wouldn’t over analyse the work in progress – I was aware of what I was producing, but I wanted the development of the work to be as organic and as honest as I possibly could. It wasn’t until the final stages of editing that I had clarity.  There are always many factors that influence choice in editing, but with this work, I approached the task in anthropological terms also – it is the people who make the industry after all – through careful selection I wanted to provide representation that would create the narrative.


What did your subjects think of the experience?


I make a point of always giving the subjects a print of their portrait – it only seems fair to me.  The reaction was positive and supportive.  I think the community in general understood that my motives were genuine.  I worked on this project over a three-year period and shot in excess of one hundred portraits – I spoke to many people and heard various accounts and stories about the decline of an industry – it was a humbling experience and a privilege to have the community embrace the project – it was their collaboration that saw the project through.


Tell us about the exhibition and the book


The book was never my main intention to start with. I always thought that the exhibition would be the final outcome and the most appropriate thing for the work.  The exhibition format is exciting, it’s always satisfying to present the work to an audience but, nevertheless, it is a transitory experience.  The culture of the ‘photography book’ as an artifact has grown in recent years, and I realized through discussion with my contemporaries that a publication was valid and, would offer the project longevity. Peter Willberg, an old friend from the RCA, designed the book.  Peter is a celebrated book designer and, at the top of his game  – he has produced many fine books for major artists, galleries and museums – I was very fortunate that he agreed to take the project on.

John Bellany, who sadly died last month, kindly wrote a very poignant and heartfelt piece earlier this year, as an afterword for the portraits – I feel very honoured and proud that his words are included in the book – John more that any other Scottish artist understood the significance of the fishing industry and its people.

On 1 November, the project will go on show at Duff House, Banff – 10 life-sized prints from the series.  This majestic country gallery is central to the community and it will give me great pleasure to hang the work in this noble space – on a personal level it offers the opportunity to give something back to the community – an offer of gratitude to the people who helped me realize my initial goals.

More images from Paul’s project can be seen at his website….http://paul-duke.co.uk/at_sea.html

His exhibition open at Duff House – Banff, 01 November 2013 – 17 January 2014

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Californian Shinty and Heavy Games

Late Summer in California is the perfect time to watch the Scottish-American diaspora at play. Highland Games, like the one in Dixon, a small farming town near the State capital, Sacramento, tend to come at the end of a sultry season and so the sportsmen and women, like the shinty players, and the heavy games specialists can do their lung-busting feats in relatively mild conditions. The North Californian Camanachd club led by Michael  Bentely have been playing Shinty at Highland Games in California since the mid 1980s. Men and women are welcome to join and you don’t have to be of Scottish descent to play although everyone who joins seems to sign-up for induction into the world of tartanalia, clan heritage and whisky appreciation.

Professor Carlos F Borges may have a hispanic name but his devotion to the  Scottish Heavy Games tradition of caber tossing, hammer throwing etc is legendary in these parts. All throughout the Dixon games, Prof. Borges gives a running commentary on who is throwing and tossing further than the competition. He wanders the field with his radio-microphone,  cowboy hat and ZZ-Top beard in constant motion. Prof. Borges also teaches heavy-duty applied mathematics to students and is partial to a big stogie.

Elizabeth and Andrew Davis have Scottish great grandparents or maybe even great-great grandparents. They love Scottsh dancing and all day long during the Dixon Games hordes of young Calfornian kids like them are sword-dancing and leaping gracefully in front of stern judges. Scottish dancing seems to be one of the most vital traditions at California Highland Games and the one that seems to communicate the Scottish cultural virus most effectively across the generations. Elizabeth wins several trophies at the Dixon games.

Bill Scott is a retired shepherd. With his collie Rex they are the best man and dog team at the Dixon Games. A recent stroke has reduced Bill’s capacity to remember the Scottish place names that he was brought-up learning from his parents but his ability to manouver Rex and a flock of sheep around a dusty Californian corral remains un-diminished.




Alan Hebert is also a stalwart of the heavy Games in California. He is devoted to all things Scottish and dreams of tossing the caber at the Highland Games in Argyll which is the ancestral home of his clan. Next year he hopes his dream will come true. In the meantime he remains an IT guru in Silicon Valley and also makes kilts in his spare time. Burns Suppers in Silicon Valley are legendary according to Allan and I have booked myself in for that experience next January.



The passion for Scottish sports and culture at events like the Dixon Highland Games seems undiminished and shinty, heavy games, dancing, shepharding and traditional music seem as popular as ever among this group of Americans with links -however tenuous – to the old country. It would make a great tv series, this mix of friendly but ultra-competitive Scottish-Americans on the Californian Highland Games circuit. At the end of the day though, it is the Stars and Stripes that gets the ceremonial treatment and everyone goes back to life on the Pacific West Coast.


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