Talk by Nicola Neate – A Tapestry of Connection (and Mild Panic)

Thursday 16 April 2026, 7.30pm, at Caenn na h-Àirigh, Scotvein, Grimsay, I stood up and did something that, a few weeks ago, I genuinely thought might not happen at all: I gave a presentation on my project A Tapestry of Connection.

First of all—thank you. Truly. To everyone who came along, listened, and engaged so generously. It meant a great deal. Special thanks to Sara for creating the poster and organising the evening so beautifully, and to Simon, who calmly wrangled the digital side of things and ensured that sound was, in fact, heard (never something to be taken for granted).

The talk itself began with a bit about my wider practice before moving into the winding journey of this project. And it has been a journey. One with unexpected turns, small triumphs, and at least one moment where I seriously considered emailing Creative Scotland to say, “Hello, I may have been wildly overambitious and everything is falling apart.”

But more on that later.

This project has been supported first by VACMA funding and then by Creative Scotland for this second phase, and I honestly don’t think I could have brought it to life without that support. It has allowed me to explore ideas of connection—between place, process, and people—in a way that has grown far beyond what I initially imagined.

A particularly important part of this has been working with two day care service users, who have been, in equal measure, fabulous and challenging (the best combination, really). Their work is at the heart of what comes next: I’ll be transforming elements of their artwork into photopolymer prints, which I’m very excited about.

In May, I’ll be attending a bookbinding workshop with Corinna Krause at Sollas Books, where I’ll be making concertina books that will bring together these prints—both theirs and mine. There’s something very satisfying about the idea of folding, layering, and physically connecting all these strands.

And connection really has been the thread running through everything. Through walking, making, collaborating. Through linking up with Lionacleit Day Care Centre, the Grimsay Community Association, and becoming part of Highland Print Studio in Inverness—which has opened the door to a wider and very supportive print community.

The project has also stretched beyond my immediate location. Sharing work online has allowed it to reach the mainland and beyond—like it has quietly grown its own set of tentacles (a slightly unsettling but accurate image). The connections keep extending, often in ways I couldn’t have planned.

Which brings me back to the mild panic.

Before attending Highland Print Studio, I ran into some fairly catastrophic technical problems. The kind that make you question all your life choices. There was a definite moment of “Well, this is it. I’ve broken everything. Time to write a very apologetic email explaining that the project has… dissolved.”

But somehow, things came back together. Not perfectly, not smoothly—but enough. And standing there giving the talk, hearing people respond to the work, I had a strong sense that all those threads I’ve been trying to tie together are beginning to hold.

So yes—there have been problems. Quite a few. But right now, I feel genuinely pleased with how things are going. And perhaps more importantly, I feel that the connections I’ve been building—slowly, sometimes chaotically—are starting to make sense.

Which is, after all, what this tapestry is about.

From Process to Print

This was the final workshop with the daycare participants – I can’t believe how quickly it has gone by. Over the weeks, they have engaged with and embraced a range of processes—stencils, frottage, colouring, tracing, collage, and moments of free-form drawing that allowed for independent expression to emerge.

It has been especially rewarding to see confidence build in subtle but meaningful ways. Today, one participant confidently used the small lino stamps I had made, combining them with collage to create something distinctly their own.

During the course of theses workshops I’ve learned to step back—resisting the urge to guide too closely and instead allowing space for intuition and play to take over. The balance between gentle encouragement and thoughtful restraint has been key, creating an environment where experimentation feels safe and personal voices can surface. From this rich body of work, I will now begin translating the artworks into photopolymer prints, bringing them together in a concertina book that will include both their work and my own—a true Tapestry of Connection, unfolding across pages that reflect our shared process of making and learning.

I’ll be giving a talk about my work and this project—if you’re on the island and would like to come along, all the details are on the poster below.

Weddings, Wandering, and Unexpected Inspiration

The past week has felt slightly off-centre—though in the best possible way. What began as a disruption to my usual schedule quickly unfolded into something far more enriching.

My daughter got married, and I travelled to attend her wedding. It was a fairly spur-of-the-moment decision, leaving little time to prepare or plan. But, as it turned out, the timing couldn’t have been better. I had been in need of fresh input and inspiration, and this unexpected journey offered exactly that.

On my way, I stopped over in Glasgow and spent some time wandering the city. I found myself drawn to the tragic remains of the burned building!

“The huge blaze engulfed the B-listed Victorian building next to Glasgow Central Station on Sunday 8 March after starting in a vape shop on Union Street.”

While in Glasgow, I also visited Small Measures (6–28 March 2026), a print exhibition in Glasgow Print Studio . The show brought together a range of artists exploring the technical and aesthetic possibilities of small-format printmaking. What struck me most was the variety of processes on display—each piece demonstrating just how subtle, versatile, and powerful printmaking can be, even within limited dimensions. I left feeling deeply inspired, with new ideas beginning to form for Tapestry of Connection: Phase II.

The journey continued on to London, where I managed to visit exhibitions by Tracey Emin and Rose Wylie. It was genuinely exciting to see two older women artists at the forefront of international contemporary art. Their work, though vastly different in subject and style, was equally powerful and thought-provoking. Each exhibition offered a distinct perspective, yet both carried a strong sense of presence and authenticity.

Returning from this trip, I feel fully rejuvenated. What began as a disruption became a source of energy, reflection, and creative renewal—exactly what I needed.

Returning, Resetting, and Staying Flexible

Living on an island is something I value deeply—the space, the quiet, the sense of distance. But what I do miss is regular access to culture. Being able to see exhibitions, experience different environments, and feel part of a wider creative conversation isn’t something that happens easily here. Because of that, trips to the mainland feel essential. They give me connection, but also perspective—something I need to maintain clarity in my own work.

This recent trip was self-funded, and in many ways, necessary. I’ve come back feeling refreshed and reconnected with my practice.

Returning home is always a special moment. On the ferry back, I found myself surrounded by fellow islanders—it was warm, familiar, and grounding. There’s something about that shared sense of place that reminds me why I live here in the first place.

Yesterday (Monday) I shifted my focus back into work mode and spent the day planning my final workshop session with participants from the Daycare Centre. This week’s theme is Exploring Texture Through Print, Collage & Self-Expression. I’ve been preparing a range of materials, including handmade stamps created from found textures and lino cuts.

Some of the techniques I’ll be using have been introduced in earlier sessions. I’ve done this intentionally—through repetition and familiarity, I’ve seen participants grow in confidence. There’s something really important about revisiting processes, allowing people to feel comfortable enough to explore them in their own way.

Working with vulnerable adults also means staying open and adaptable. Flexibility isn’t just helpful—it’s necessary. I try to build that into everything I plan.

And, as expected, this morning brought a reminder of that. Just as I was about to leave, I received a call asking for the session to be postponed until next week due to an absent participant. It’s one of those things you learn to anticipate. These moments can be disruptive, but they’re also part of the rhythm of this kind of work.

So, I’ve rescheduled the workshop and will use the time to focus on other related work instead.

It feels, in a way, like a continuation of the past week —plans shifting, things moving slightly off-centre—but still productive, still meaningful.

Workshop Three : Open Play Paint and Drawing Session

This week’s session was an open play paint and drawing workshop with the two adult non-verbal autistic men. The focus was on exploration rather than outcome — an opportunity to engage with materials freely, without pressure to produce a finished piece.

I set up an activity table with paints, crayons and stencils, alongside a variety of tools to experiment with: sticks, rollers, sponges and brushes in different sizes. I intentionally restricted the colour palette to oranges, yellows and reds, as these are colours both participants consistently gravitate towards. Limiting the palette created a sense of cohesion while still allowing for choice and variation.

The session itself was short but intense. There was a slow start, as there often is, but both participants are becoming increasingly familiar with the space and are moving more freely around the room. That growing sense of comfort is noticeable and important.

A particularly rewarding aspect is seeing their previous week’s work displayed on the wall. They appear drawn to it, and there is a sense that this continuity matters. However, I will need to devise a better hanging system — the builder’s masking tape I’ve been using, although relatively light, is occasionally lifting paint from the wall. This is something to resolve before it becomes an issue.

This session was intentionally open-ended. It was about mark-making, texture, movement and sensory engagement rather than product. After the initial settling in, there was a sustained period of focused engagement from both participants. That concentration — even if brief — makes the session worthwhile.

Each week, the space feels a little more established, and the confidence within it grows.

supported by Creative Scotland.