Isle of Rust

Here, at the north-westernmost periphery of Europe is what feels like a presage of the future, the distant future, the furthest future, after which there’ll be no future at all. This is the Isle of Rust – known, too, as Lewis and Harris. It is a blueprint, a working model of the day which will have no tomorrow. Jonathan Meades

Isle of Rust not only refers to the countless corroding tractors, weaving sheds and other visible signs of human settlement but also to the colours of the land: the reds of deergrass and the purple moor grass which make up so much of the moorland. It is a place of great contrast in both light and land, from the largely flat peatlands of Lewis, where the majority of islanders make their home, to the mountains of Harris.

It’d be easy to mistake these landscapes for ruins. Rust is not ruin. There is in Meades-Boyd some kind of shared attention to the detritus of human life. They open their eyes to the humanity that inheres in what outlasts people’s lives. Dan Hicks