Location: No 4, Minish, Isle of North Uist, Outer Hebrides, Scotland
OS Grid Reference:
Date: 24 July 2007
Time: 16.35- 17.05
Site: Ruined croft settlement of a Campbell family. Situated adjacent to the tiny island known as Temple which is connected to Minish Island, inhabited only by sheep. The croft is situated at the highest easily navigable point for small boats in the archipelago whose tidal flows exit via Lochmaddy Bay.

Description:I stand facing the house, I see nettles and thistles and blue-y grey stones. I move slowly towards the house, I am not sure exactly where to head for- the thistles, the window, or the door?
I find the window, pick up the rusted polyfilla gun and start to squeeze. Even though it is so thick it crumbles beneath my grip. I find the rusted nails and screws and hinges and fix the crumbling house. Through the window, I know she is there, I am dying for a peek, a glimpse, what is she doing of Jo, and I get a little excited, I am gonna see her!
I come away and move towards the wall of the house, climbing up, to peer overe the top, unseen. I catch a glimpse of her space through the holes in the house, the house with the red tin roof, I don’t see her. I fall. I concentrate back on my space, the thistles, the beautiful coloured stones, the bright rust that falls apart.
I go through the door, I wobble, make noise on the tin, I leap and jump, frustrated and excited, I am flying about, randomly I look over, and see her, she is so still, majestic, like a figurehead on a boat, pulling on a rope, Egyptian. I feel disappointed, caught out- what should I be doing? What do I do now? Be more still? More excitable? I am at a loss. I wait for a moment, for my response, back to my environment I see more balance challenges to play with. The corner intrigues me and I am trying to out off coming out as long as possible. The rusty thing makes a doorway for me and I go through ignoring her as long as possible.
The pipe in my hand becomes a weight to respond to, a sword to attack the sea with, an extension of my body. I stand, I see her, she is on the roof! Precarious. I laugh, I want to shout ‘hey!’ Why don’t I? We both sink together and then she is gone, from my mind, I need to re-find my space… go to the boat? No. Things to jump on? Yes. Charcoal, crumbles, like the rust, blacker, kick, split it with the rust….. whistle…
Stick it in.

Present:Anne Marie Culhane
Jo Salter- photographer
Miriam Keye
Anne and Angus Monk- photographers

Any other comments:

Description:A small white flower
A thistle – doesn’t prickle if you touch it slow
Blue stones of the house, tummies pressed against each other
Crawling the walls, close to the nettles
A rope comes out of the turf, more rope, keep pulling, more rope, its trapped, coming from under the turf, keep pulling, twist and hold it straight and vertical - taller than me. A beautiful bird. I hear you banging, crashing, metal. See you moving in your house, enter the lean to. A circle, fish …? there for me revolve, turn, scrape across the blue v-lining, rust on blue. Balance on a plank, I know my weight, climb the wall and peer over the wobbly masonry.
You are there, outside t he house, smile, holding something, strong, majestic, me peering over the wall, a buttercup, a bird, in this moment.
Crawl down over the wall touching window frame and fading gas canisters to earth again. Walk towards Lochmaddy’s 3 mountains . Left arm frames the space and then your head, supported by my curved arm. Arms rise to ballet fifth, and slowly down, breath on breath, gently reach out to you – whistle blows.

Present:Miriam Keye,Jo Salter- photographer, Anne and Angus Monk- photographers

Any other comments:

At the end of the duet I see Merav Israel, a dancer who is with us, beautifully still human form in the distance, a quiet third dancer - she later says she wasnt there.