When the Artic terns reappeared along the coast from their great migration, the men would begin their own passage to the fishing stations, laden with nets and tools, carrying turf divots thatched with straw, which they would unfurl upon the rafters of lodges which had stood roofless for the rest of the year. When they were not in the peat-heavy confines of the fishing huts, the men were upon the water in open, six-oared boats – sixareens – as exposed as the elements as the fishing lodges out of season.
By the end of summer, the men packed everything away and dismantled the lodges. The materials to make their temporary dwellings were bequeathed to the next generation of skippers, until the fishing changed with the advent of steam trawlers, and then the fishing stations were abandoned, strewn on the shore like a forgotten catch to rot and decay, an aftertaste – a waageng – of a time before.
The island vernacular is imbued with the sea and simultaneously designed to withstand it. Dwellings enveloped in pebbledash and corrugated iron nestle beside replica Viking longboats, castle ruins stand adjacent to fortresses of yellow cargo containers and industrial spools of fishing line.
Waves crash, clouds form, birds croon as they cruise above the surface of the water following the choreography of herring or sand lance shoals.
Seals follow in pursuit or pause to investigate the beached remains of a salmon fishery, as if drawn to the memory of the catch it once held.
Ghost nets endure an eternal life beyond the waves, recast as ghost nests for roosting birds. Eyries of plastic and nylon litter the cliff face, evidence of the errant entanglements between people and nature.
The sea shifts its guise through natures rhythmic changes. A legion of whitecaps advancing toward the land, heralded by mists of sea spray.
The standing stones of industry dominate the view in a landscape purged of trees. Monoliths of steel and fibreglass convert wind into energy, chimneys smoke and flame, while underwater arteries channel oil to the surface.
The coalescence of marine creatures and sediment formed over millions of years, the potency of wind which has always buffeted the islands, responsible for the wind-clipped fauna and the carving of the land, accrues value now.
Different waves of industry leave their imprint on the landscape.
Postscript: The relationships between land and sea, people and nature have changed on Shetland through time. Transitions from one state of affairs to another can be highly contested but reflect what people feel are important. Core to that transition are the values we recognise in the world and how we act on those values. The world is value laden and art can help everyone explore the myriad of diverse values that makes places and lives meaningful.