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Venice (2023)

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      My mother had five children but no passport. She couldn’t drive a car, and never once flew in an aeroplane. She only left Scotland on a few occasions to visit relatives in Ireland. Before she got sick I asked her “if there is one place I could take you when I grow up, where would that be?” Without hesitation Kathleen answered “Venice.” My mother was a great reader of romantic fiction. Perhaps she dreamed of the city’s beautiful architecture, it’s bridges, canals, and gondolas. In the four decades following her death I travelled all over the world but Venice was one city that always eluded me, or perhaps I subconsciously avoided it. In May 2023 I was invited to attend an event there. My long held apprehension was outweighed by a sense of urgency to see a city now facing the existential threat of global warming and the Acqua Alta.       In 421CE the Veneti fled from invading forces on the Italian mainland and founded their eponymous new city. They built on a marshy lagoon by drivin

Flight (2022)

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  Whooper Swan - Inch Levels, Donegal In the year 1845, 8,259 people were buried in Glasgow. In the year 1847, that number had increased dramatically to 18,889. What happened? In 1845 blight ( phytophthora infestans ) destroyed the potato crop in Ireland and in 1846 the same thing happened again, this time also affecting the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. Although the blight abated temporarily in 1847, so little seed had been planted that year that the yield was meagre. In short, widespread starvation meant that many thousands of migrants arrived in Glasgow from Ireland for several years after 1845. At the peak of summer 1847 up to 10,000 Irish people arrived during some weeks. The condition of those arriving was often wretched. People were malnourished and diseased and had little or no money with which to provide food and shelter for themselves. Those who could afford it quickly made for Liverpool and then America. The poor begged and threw themselves upon the charity of the Catho

Ravenscraig (2021)

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Raven Returned My family lived in Craigneuk at the southern boundary of Ravenscraig for more than forty years. Several of my uncles and grand uncles worked at the steelworks there. My grandfather Hugh helped to build it.   In the nineteenth century Ravenscraig was a village. The village took its name from the cliffs along a deep winding gorge of the South Calder Water. At Ravenscraig today there are remnants of industry and other marks left by scramblers and quad bikes. There are also families of roe deer and fox, hundreds of carrion crow and jackdaw, and thousands of young birch trees, but not one single raven.     To hear the deep throated kraa of ravens you must venture into the ancient woodland at the northern boundary of the old site. High up in the steel girders of the Calder Carfin Viaduct the crooked twigs of their nests protrude. Now that heavy industry has departed the great black birds have returned to the territory of their eponymous cliffs, or perhaps they never left. The

Only for Freedom (2020)

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                        Arbroath, Angus Grotesque inequality, the Brexit fiasco and the disastrous handling of the Coronavirus all point towards a UK political system that is badly broken. Under this system Scotland has no real voice on issues of critical importance.  Only for Freedom  is a series of photographs made in each of Scotland's thirty-two council areas. It stands as a declaration of independence written by light. This work was due to be exhibited in April 2020 to coincide with the 700th anniversary of the Declaration of Arbroath. The physical exhibition was cancelled due to Covid 19. An online exhibition and discussion was organised by Street Level Photoworks.                        Glasgow Cathedral, Glasgow City                         Dunbar, East Lothian                         Kirkwall, Orkney                        Turnberry, South Ayrshire All images © Frank McElhinney Artist's talk hosted by Street Level Photowor

'On the Edge' Donegal residency (2019)

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Whooper swans flying in darkness I am currently in Donegal for the month of November photographing, among other things, wild swans at dusk and dawn and even wilder Atlantic waves. Thanks to Street Level Photoworks and Artlink I am on a residency here, living in the small but lively town of Buncrana with a studio space at Fort Dunree. The swans migrate here from Iceland every winter. Four years ago I began a project about migration. I was prompted by the tragedy of what was happening in the Mediterranean at that time but wanted to focus instead on Scotland. Many Scots who are opposed to welcoming people from other countries forget their own history, both national and familial. In 2015 and 2016 I travelled throughout the highlands and islands flying a kite and a drone to make aerial images of abandoned settlements. Some of the settlements were forcibly cleared as long as two hundred years ago. When visiting those, usually desolate, places I always asked myself where all the

Timefield (2019)

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       Ian and Kate Timefield was a collaboration between five artists that led to an exhibition at Platform, Easterhouse in 2019. The exhibition consisted of projections of photographs, a soundscape featuring original text and abstract painted wall hangings. The photographs explored ageing bodies as a metaphor for landscape. All images © Frank McElhinney

Kingshill (2018)

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Patrick Durkin, was born on a tenant farm in County Mayo. He came to Scotland and became a coal miner at Kingshill No.1 colliery in Allanton near Shotts. He died due to the accumulation of coal dust on his lungs leaving behind a wife and nine surviving children, including my mother. Thousands of people worked in Kingshill No.1 during its fifty year life span. It was one of the first pits to be nationalised. After it closed in 1968 the land above ground eventually became a small nature reserve. The large 'bing' I used to climb as a small boy was levelled off and trees were planted by the council. The woods, ponds and lichens encouraged the return of mammals, amphibians, insects and birds. The summers are full of colourful flowers and butterflies. You'd never know this was once the site of heavy industry, except sometimes in winter when the vegetation dies back you can see the black slag of waste coal in certain areas breaking through the surface. I began photogr