This summer, I spent two weeks as an artist-in-residence at the New Scriptorium – a dedicated artists and writers’ bothy in the grounds of Arbroath Abbey. The residency was organised by the Arbroath 2020+4 Festival Committee, in collaboration with the Lakes International Comic Arts Festival and Hospitalfield, and called for an artist to create comics in response to the theme ‘Power & Word’, alongside optional subjects with particular relevance to Arbroath. Having a special interest in social and environmental stories around food, I chose to focus on the significance of the fishing industry to Arbroath’s identity – exploring the perspectives of those whose own identities are tangled up with it.
Everyone I spoke to during those two weeks was incredibly generous with their knowledge and experience, sharing much more material than I could surface in the work. And so the five postcard comics I produced are just snapshots of the wealth of tales that were gifted to me. Largely in the words of the storytellers themselves (reflected back by a curious outsider), the comics touch on a spectrum of experiences connected to fishing – looking at the industry’s rich history, its vibrant but challenged present, and the vulnerabilities and possibilities of its future.
To view all five postcards and read about the content of each in more detail, please see the following posts on my Work page:
Keep reading for a few further reflections on how I approached the creation of the comics.
“All things fishing” is how I began the residency. As I don’t have any particular connection to the fishing industry or to the area, I decided that I should start by (forgive me) casting the net wide around the fishing community, with the hope of catching the stories that felt most important to community members. Other than that, the only decision I made in advance was (following on from the approach I took to my Loveland’s Weeds project) that the comics would be published as postcards.*
I spent the two weeks speaking to as many people as I could with some kind of affiliation to the fishing industry: people working as fishers, a former fisherman turned boat tour guide, fishmongers and smokie makers, a journalist who covered Arbroath’s fishing industry in its heyday, a boatyard owner, a local geologist with a fishing family, a pub landlady, smokie tourists, a librarian, a restauranteur specialising in seafood, people fishing for fun off the harbour, community heritage groups and more. Instead of recording the conversations with a dictaphone, I feverishly took notes (during and after). Note-taking seemed like a less intrusive approach; I wanted to ensure that everyone I spoke to felt as comfortable as possible sharing their stories with me. I also thought that note-taking would allow me to more actively listen to each person, and create the conditions for the most memorable parts of each conversation to shine through. Finally, my choice of the postcard format was also a contributing factor; I knew I was only going to be able to capture a slither of each conversation within such a small space, and so I did not want to overwhelm myself with too much material to work from. (As I already mentioned, of course I did still end up with much, much more than I could share within the time and resources I had available — more on that in a moment.)
During each conversation, particularly the longer ones, I aimed to ask the person I was speaking to about which point they felt was the most important; the thought or idea or provocation that they would really like to share with their fellow community members, and people outside of Arbroath. This was a further measure to help contain the potential content of each comic, and — I hoped — one way to ensure that the comics reflected the community members’ stories as they wanted them to be told (not how I, an illustrator from London without any Scottish or fishing heritage, thought they should be told). Further to this, I took the contact details of everyone I spoke to so I could send them the comic drafts to get their input. This process meant that the comics were at least partly co-developed, and all developed with the full consent of those represented in them.
L-R: studies for the project; the desk in the New Scriptorium; dressed up as a fishwife with Heritage Arts Auchmithie Residents; Arbroath harbour stacked up with creel pots; fresh smokies made by the team at The Fish Hoose; sketching around the harbour
The three conversation-based comics and the two with snippets of multiple conversations represent perhaps 10% of the stories I heard during those two weeks. I wish I had had more time to create more comics, to share the story of how the fishers of Auchmithie were condemned to the class of “serf” by the local Earl when they first tried to migrate from Auchmithie to Arbroath; to document the conversation I had with local restauranteur Marco Macari about how he felt the future of Arbroath harbour should be in food; to relay the strong feelings of the working fishers about Brexit and its impact (or lack thereof) on their trade; to capture the experiences of former fisherman and Chair of the Arbroath Fisherman’s Association, Alex Smith, from Arbroath’s fishing heyday in the 1970s and 80s, and his daughter Morag’s stories about growing up within the fisher community in the Fit O’ the Toon (the historical area around the harbour where Arbroath’s fishers lived), and all the fishing and maritime tales woven into her expert geological knowledge of the local coastline. Further to these, I would have wanted to create space to imaginatively engage with the perspectives of the marine creatures who have a quiet but pivotal role in each and every one of the stories: what of the experience of the lobsters in the pots?
The volume of material I had to leave on the cutting room floor, so to speak, has lead me (and this isn’t the first time) to question the value of the detail of my drawing style. Could I — should I — work on a more efficient style, which will allow me to create more in less time? What would be gained and what would be lost by streamlining my approach? This isn’t something I can answer very well in theory — only more practice will tell. I hope I am given, or can create, another comics journalism opportunity soon: to try to answer these questions, but also because this experience was the highlight of my illustration career so far. My gratitude towards everyone who made this experience so interesting, exciting and eye-opening is as deep and rich as the flavour of an Arbroath smokie. Particular thanks are due to the following wonderful folks and organisations, who each actively shaped and supported this project in various ways:
Kristina Aburrow - Cicely Farrer - Lucy Byatt and the team at Hospitalfield - Morag, Alex and Christine Smith - Violet Thompson, Ann and Rikki Craig, and all of the Heritage Arts Auchmithie Residents - Jo Moore and the team at The Fish Hoose - Tommy and Benji Yule - Harry Simpson - Bob and Sharon Teviotdale - Ian Lamb - Alastair Sutherland - Marco Macari - Historic Environment Scotland and the staff of Arbroath Abbey - The Lakes International Comic Art Festival Team - and my fellow residents at Hospitalfield.
*Why postcards? Two brief notes:
Postcards are usually associated with idealised representations of places for the consumption of tourists. There is something interesting and powerful about defying that association by using postcards to represent personal, local perspectives on a place.
Postcards are also affordable. Printing the comics on postcards — instead of, say, A4 or A3 prints — will mean that more people in the community can access them.