(8 May 1941 to 31 October 2007)

A personal appreciation
by Rosa Steppanova

5 November, 2007

My friend Gunnie Moberg has died, aged 66 years, at Don, her home in Orkney, after a brief illness. She made a name for herself as a photographer at home and abroad with countless exhibitions, a body of work that hangs permanently in the Scottish Parliament, as well as her books on Orkney, Shetland, and the Faroe Islands, published in conjunction with the Norwegian writer Liv Kjorsvik Schei. Worldwide critical acclaim came through her fruitful artistic collaboration with George Mackay Brown.

Starting with the beaches, stones, seascapes and people of her beloved Orkney as the objects for her lens, she soon felt drawn to, and developed an equally deep affection for two other archipelagos in the north Atlantic: Shetland and the Faroe Islands.

Gunnie and I first met in 1986, when a tall and strikingly beautiful woman with blond hair and sea-green eyes walked into my garden. It was her directness, tempered with playfulness, tangible warmth, and an earthy humour that instantly attracted me to her. Our mutual love of gardening cemented our friendship. Gunnie was generous to a fault, and there was nothing quite as thrilling as the arrival of fat envelopes stuffed with plant seed, addressed in her clear rounded hand. She was a prolific and accomplished correspondent, and refused point blank to make any concessions to the age of information technology.

Gunnie was an exceptional mother, and loving grandmother to no less than ten grandchildren, an artist, a talented painter, a gifted designer of exteriors and interiors, jewellery and knitwear, and a gardener par excellence. There was nothing she couldn't turn her hands to, but above all she was the best friend anybody could wish for. People gravitated towards her, and all who entered her orbit - however briefly - flourished in her presence.

Gunnie visited Shetland in August of this year, to hang her exhibition "Three Islands" in the Gadderie at Shetland Museum. It was the last time I saw her, and after one of our lunches together she, dressed in a smart black suit, helped me to physically rescue a very large and interesting piece of metal, shaped like a shark's jaw, for my garden from a marine engineer's yard in Lerwick.

But the most vivid memory I carry with me of Gunnie is based on a few glorious late summer days we spent together in her garden at Don, near Stromness, in 2003, talking plants, taking pictures of each other and her black cat Baby Don, drinking wine, and feeling glad to be alive while gazing at the sea from "The Poet's Seat", named in honour of George Mackay Brown, whose favourite spot it had been. Her garden, like its owner, was filled with a vibrant energy.

Gunnie arrived in Orkney in 1976 with her husband Tam McPhail, and their four sons Colin, Llewelyn, Paul, and Thomas. Tam owns the ACE bookshop in Stromness, and bookshops played a pivotal part in their lives.

Tam had left his native California in 1960 to travel the world, and stepped off the boat in Liverpool on Gunnie's birthday, the 8th of May. A month later they met in an Edinburgh bookshop, and by the end of the year Gunnie was pregnant with their first child. They married the following January, and Tom gave up all ideas of world travel.

They moved to a cottage in Achahoish, a large estate in Argyll, in 1964, and Colin Hamilton, one of their oldest and closest friends said: "They had very little money but somehow their lives were idyllic, Tam produced interesting metal things, while Gunnie made batiks and baby boys. Gunnie's mother, rather alarmed by the increase in birth rate but not income, advised Tam to wear pyjamas."

Colin saw Gunnie a few days before she died, and wrote to me: "We agreed that the only thing that really mattered is the people you love. Because she was so warm and responsive she had friends everywhere. Perhaps this was her greatest gift."

Gunnie was loved by so many and enhanced every life she touched. The friends I managed to get in touch with had this to say: "She was a life enhancer." "She would turn up, and you could feel the sun on your face." "Gunnie's ability to cultivate and enrich made her exceptional." "She was like a warm spring breeze, bringing light, joy, and a vitality that was irresistible."

The final word must go to Tam, who simply said to me: "Gunnie was a star, and she was beautiful."

A few years ago, during a visit to India, Tam and Gunnie took part in a parlour game called: "What we would like to have." There were lists of airplanes, palaces, and precious jewels from the other participants, but Tam's list consisted of just one word: "Gunnie".

Theirs, by all accounts, truly was a marriage made in heaven, and they have spent 46 and a half blissfully happy years in each other's company.

Acknowledgements: I would like to thank Astrid Sillens, Debbie Hammond, Mary Fraser, and Mike and Lorna Skinner for sharing their thoughts and memories with me.