Rosa Steppanova

13 August, 2007

IN ORDER to do it justice, you must take your time when visiting Gunnie Moberg's exhibition of photographs of Three Island Groups - Faroe, Orkney, and Shetland.

Moberg, born in Sweden and trained as a photographer, lives in Orkney and is probably best known in Shetland for her book The Shetland Story, and the more recent publication Shetland, one of the Island Trilogy publications.

Nationally and internationally recognised as a master of her trade, she has been commissioned to provide a selection of her photographs for the Scottish Parliament building.

Gunnie habitually views the world through the lens of her camera. Nothing escapes her. She told me how one day she had the airport bus, heading north from Sumburgh, screech to a halt at Old Scatness. The site, still mothballed for winter, is an eyesore for most, but the blue polythene weighed down by black rubber tyres became an instant art installation once Gunnie got it into focus. It makes a fitting entry to her exhibition, which runs at Shetland Museum and Archives until 2 September.

'Moon Rising over the Stones of Stenness' shows a nocturnal sky dominated by a stark, dark vertical, wearing a playful beret of blue, wispy clouds. To its left, a much lesser stone holds its breath (yes stones do breathe in Gunnie's pictures) in anticipation of becoming the full moon's pillow for the night. There's more planetary involvement in 'Alternative Energy' where the knife-edge propeller blade of a wind generator all but pierces a pale, waxing moon.

Texture is what Moberg excels in, and amongst the most wonderful examples in this exhibition are her expansive Orcadian winter seascapes, as well as 'Soapstone Quarry', sand dunes that have an almost edible quality, and a large expanse of still green barley on a windy day, arrested by the click of her shutter in mid-wave - soft and irresistibly tactile.

Hot on the heels of purely textural photographs are the textural contrasts, and none better than the black and white print of a Faroese basalt formation, or a stone wave, thrown into crystal clear relief against a misty sea and sky.

Gunnie Moberg, by her own admission, isn't the kind of woman who'll lie in wait for hours, hoping to capture a perfect picture. She simply pounces when she comes across one. 'Ewe and triplets' fits this category. The shutter was clicked as the mother and her three lambs assembled playfully in what looks like the opening position to an ovine reel, pristinely white against a backdrop of rich, dark green pasture.

'Swans in Winter' is another superb animal composition. Five swans, like sinewy, elegant but somewhat top-heavy ballerinas in tutus, are caught abreast in a perfect ballet line, striding purposefully inland, into a vast, snow-covered landscape.

Gunnie has a knack of breathing new, fresh life into the most jaded, familiar and chocolate box image. Seen though her photographer's eye, those colourful wooden Faroese houses, featured in every tourist brochure, become polychromatic matchboxes under huge, grey skies and tucked beneath steeply rising hills. This creates the most stunning perspectives, and touches on the precariousness of human existence.

Some of the pictures in this exhibition have never been shown before, while many are culled from her books, and it is good to see the latter at long last in a size that makes them a pleasure to view. I'm sorry to say this, but the book Shetland was published in far too mean a format to do her art justice. I enjoyed coming face to face with some old friends - particularly John and Lolly Graham, and a couple of famous cows. It was great to meet once again that dew-eyed Jersey captured in the morning mist, and the endearing, and perhaps slightly wayward 'Buttercup' being led to a wedding dance by Mary Fraser.

Gunnie's human portraits are arguably the most touching. All, be they in colour or black and white, are superbly well executed, giving a glimpse of the sitter's soul, but two black and whites are outstanding. That pensive George Mackay Brown, in a timeless setting, is a masterpiece. Then there's a deeply moving portrait of the Faroese poet William Heinesen, where Gunnie perfectly captures his air of stillness, and nine decades of human wisdom and experience etched in his face.

This is just a curtain raiser. The exhibition is nothing short of a triumph. Given that Gunnie Moberg shows in Shetland are few and far between, go and see it, and while you're there, snap up one or two of her superb prints.

If the photographs at Da Gadderie appeal to you, you may also want to head for Vaila Fine Arts (open Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday), where two of Gunnie's large plant portraits hang just now. They are extraordinary. Revealing and concealing at the same time, they manage to capture the essence of their floral models in enthralling, diaphanous layers.

Finally, a gripe or two: the posters for this exhibition were completely dominated by sail-shaped corporate identity advertising for the new museum and archives. We all know by now that both are great, so please, could the exhibiting artists be given a bit more space and prominence?

And an exhibition by an artist of Gunnie Moberg's calibre calls for a formal opening at least. Ideally there should have been fanfares, fizz and fireworks.