In a field near the sea in Scotland I found the breathtaking clear blue light that only ever seems to exist in the east. As I was staying there, in a small wooden house, there was plenty of opportunity to take in the sunlit views all around. In the flat landscape everything became a simple composition. Every ploughed field added texture and a ruddy brown colour, while the clouds contributed movement as they whipped past. The Bass Rock, an enormous sculpture created by Nature, and Tantallon, an ancient weathered castle which seemed to be halfway back to its life as mere rock, jutted up from the horizon, moving as we moved and seeming to follow us on our walks, even swapping places from time to time.
From first thing in the morning the Bass Rock greeted us through the window. It then insisted on accompanying us when we went to the beach.
It would always start the day on the left of the castle, forming an important part of the balanced picture made up of rock, castle, sky, sea and crumbled earth.
The castle always started the day on the right of the Rock, watching us grandly from its position across the fields.
The fields seemed to create their own artworks as they laid out furrows, stone walls and splashes of colour in pleasing arrangements.
Maybe because I spend all my time in the hills I found the flat landscape extremely restful and enjoyed the way something small, such as a single cloud moving into place, or walking a few steps along a lane could change the view so dramatically, framing a different picture.