“Rabbie, wad'st thou were here - the warld hath need,
And Scotland mair sae, o the likes o thee!
The whisky that aince moved your lyre's become
A laxative for aa loquacity.”

Hugh MacDiarmid ‘A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle’

All artists see the world in their own unique and intricate way. They see the beauty in the smallest things. A stone, a mouse, a grain of sand. Sit a group of landscape artists in front of Ben Nevis and you will get a group of different landscapes back. All still recognisably Ben Nevis but different in their own way.  

 

With the great constitutional debate still raging on and looking to go back and forward and back again with the usual scaremongering and unanswered questions. The same arguments placed, fought and contested with no clear statements or answers given. The majority of Scottish people, with the uncertainties of the unknown, will vote No to independence. I am approaching this subject with my arse firmly on the fence. We sit on the precipice of the unknown and we can either cling to certainty and possible backlash or we can take the jump into the unknown. But what comes with the unknown? Tax rises? Living off of oil which may or may not be ours?

 

The most common question seems to be… will it be better than it is now?

 

The common answer…I don’t know.

 

It is curious that on the day the Treaty of Union came into place, St Giles Cathedral rang out the bells to the tune of ‘Why Am I So Sad on My Wedding Day’ in the great Scottish tongue-in-cheek tradition. The Union was greeted by jeers, protests and violence. But it made sense back then. It made sense that the King of two countries united together as one. It made sense a hundred years later that they should form a political union for the newly United Kingdoms.

 

Does it make sense to destroy three hundred years of tradition? Does it make sense to sever the ties between families? We all know that many families in the UK have blood relatives from the other nations in the now four strong UK. Do we cut that tie with Westminster? There are many political questions that I have not the knowledge to answer or even attempt to. I can only ask them.

 

Can we stand by and let the chants of Scotland being one of the smallest nations in Europe stop us creating exceptional works of art? At just 30,414 square miles we are smaller than Belgium but larger than Armenia…and not by much. Can we stand by and be called ‘subsidy junkies’? Yes, it may have been a slip of the tongue…but it exposed the hidden feelings of many in Westminster. Enough of politics!

 

From painting to poetry to theatre, we have excelled in all disciplines. We are proud. From MacDiarmid’s ‘Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle’ to the piercing work of David Greig and the National Theatre of Scotland, we have attempted to define what it means to be Scottish. Great Scottish novels have defined the duality of Edinburgh, satirised Calvinism and explored the grit, grime and glory of our nation, and to the beautiful paintings we have produced, our artists of all disciplines have explored the gutter and exposed the classes while retaining that unique Scottish humour.

 

Countries are created by politicians and defined by its people. They give you the marble, the easel and the pen then let you put the finishing touches on it. They grant you the freedom to shape the nation. This is where the artists flourish. If the UK is but a stone on the beach, in the grand scheme of things, then Scotland is that grain of sand. There is beauty in the grain of sand, whether it is as an Independent nation or as part of an ancient marriage that may never be the same. I echo the words of Alan Bissett (a great Scottish novelist) when I urge you, as fellow artists, to “Vote with your Heart”. If your heart says Yes or No, follow it. Whatever the outcome, let’s make it beautiful. Let us magnify that grain of sand to expose the beauty and the unique qualities it possesses.

“To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.”

From ‘Auguries of Innocence’ by William Blake