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About the Artist & their Process

The year is 2055.

I’m a storyscaper living here in Dunkeld.

I’ve spent the last 33 years finding, excavating and building stories in our landscapes.

I didn’t always have roots here. I’d just begun to put them down when the Rains came.

We lost everything.

But in truth —  the things that mattered most, we’d lost a long time before that.

We learned the hard way.  We realised how worthless our things were when the Rains came and washed everything away. We learned our wealth comes from our communities, it’s stored in our stories.
My job was to find it and put it back. Carve our stories out of and into the landscape.

We didn’t know what we were doing when we began the Storyscape project. But then patterns began to emerge.

We found old routes on the old maps. Drovers Roads. Bike tracks. Train lines. Dual carriageways.They’re buried under the mud now. But the stories we stitched back together formed new paths of perspective. They ran like threads through the landscape, through the fabric of community, weaving our people back together through space and time.

Today, if you go out into the hills, where the great Laird’s larches used to be — if you wear your AR headsets, you’ll see them.
Hundreds of stories strung up like prayer flags, or bunting. Those are our memories draped through the landscape. Prayers to the future and for the past.

Over the years of storyscaping, we asked our community to share their stories with us. We asked them about memories they cherish, and what makes Dunkeld special to them. Then we stitched all the stories together and looped them around the local lands to make our storyscape.

Here, I’ll share three of my favourite stories from our paths of perspective.





Photo by Guillaume Briard on Unsplash

I’m sad to say Mary is no longer with us. She passed away about ten years ago, leaving her stash of old lightbulbs. When we rebuilt Dunkeld, we lit our community up with our stories. 

These are just three stories from our paths, but there are so many. Our communities are built of stories. They’re powered by them. There’s a poverty when we lose stories, and it makes us vulnerable. When we share our stories, we tap into a wealth of wisdom. That’s what makes a community thrive. That’s why we stopped trying to excavate the tractors from the mud all those years ago, and we started excavating our stories instead.

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©2022 Tayside Climate Beacon.

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