An artist working in various media, based at The Stables Studios, Rosie Newman moved to Cromarty in the early 90s. One of her latest projects is to film seabirds, in particular, flocks of knots: waders frequently seen along the Cromarty Firth from Udale Bay to Cromarty. Her passion for the sea is strictly limited to observing it, having experienced a terrifying ferry crossing some time ago.

A few years ago when I lived in Bayview Crescent, I used to take my cup of tea down to the beach and watch the knot birds and one day I thought ‘Wow, they’re amazing’ – the way they appear and disappear. I was quite interested in wallpaper at the time and I loved this idea of making a room of wallpaper – bringing the outside inside – by filming and then projecting the images on to a wall. It could have been all birds, but then I started filming other things like the wind, shadows, and also close-ups of the sea - the movement – I like the idea of movement, the patterns in the environment.

And so I spent a couple of days with a friend, driving up and down by Jemimaville, trying to find the knots – then I realised that they’re so hard to film! You’re only looking through this tiny lens and you think you’ve got them and of course, the thing about them that is so amazing is that they just turn and disappear. They’re great, the way they come and go. When the birds land they’re invisible because they’re camouflaged and look like the pebbles. One of the things that’s beautiful about them is their white under-belly, and when they turn all together, that’s what you see. I love the patterns they make. There’s something magical about them but they are hard to film.

When looking at the sea I like the impermanence of the view: it’s always changing. You could never make an identical copy of it. Thinking about permanence and impermanence, it’s semi-permanent in the sense that the water itself has always been here and always will be (though environmental changes make it into steam or ice etc) but there’s something kind of ancient about looking at the sea; it doesn’t have the clutter that’s involved in buildings or any connotations associated with man-made things. It’s like staring at mountains, it’s very meditative.

But I’m also terrified of the sea. One of my worst experiences ever was on the Cromarty Rose. It must have been about eight years ago. A friend and I had gone over to Nigg to cycle and then the weather changed. We were on the ferry on the way back when a massive storm arose. Everyone went downstairs in the cabin, but I thought ‘I’m not staying down here. I’m going to the top because at least you can jump in!’ so I was holding on to the bars of the deck with white knuckles and the ferry was going right up and then down and the sea opened, you could almost see the floor of the sea, it was like a roller coaster – thankfully there were no cars on it. I was soaking wet because the waves came right over you and people downstairs were screaming their heads off. (I still feel worked up, just thinking about it.) I remember being really terrified but then there was one moment when I just completely relaxed and I thought ‘I know I’m going to die’ and I looked at the sea and thought ‘I’m going to be in there soon but at least it’ll be quick’, and all that kind of thing – it was that bad. But we made it! When we got back, loads of people from Cromarty were out on the Links, because it had obviously looked amazing. The skipper was great. He kept saying ‘Ach, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.’ It took me ages to get back on the ferry again. I got really freaked out by it. Maybe I drowned in a past life!

People were here initially because of the sea; it brought life – fishing and then the oil industry, which was what brought my family here in the 70s, looking for work, from Liverpool, where the sea was important too, with its trade and so on. I couldn’t live away from the sea, even though I’m scared of it. When I went to America recently to an artists’ colony I was very pleased we were right on the beach, not landlocked. I brought shells from Cromarty with me and made them into necklaces for all the artists (from all over the world) and they all wanted one and wore them with pride. So now artists from America, Japan, France, Macedonia and China etc have shells from Cromarty beach. The sea gives you a feeling of freedom, of space and I suddenly felt at home there. That sense of the familiar is so comforting.

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