This quote from Harry Bell’s Glasgow’s Secret Geometry serves as my compass:

Seng-t’san (d. AD 606)

In brilliant low autumn sunshine I make the journey to the De’il’s Plantin, the Devil’s Plantation, or as it’s rather more prosaically known, Bonnyton Mound, off the Humbie Road, roughly seven miles south of the city between Newton Mearns and Eaglesham. I take with me: a flask of…

The City of Glasgow has a film charter and apparently I’m in breach of it by not notifying the Film Office or providing them with a script. Not that I have one. And since I have no crew, actors, car chases and pyrotechnics either, I hardly qualify as a legitimate production – just a shambling, slightly lunatic presence loose on the streets. I can’t afford to declare myself. To shoot here, according to the council’s rate card,…

With three trips remaining on this project, I’m anxious to hit the road. The weather, however, is playing up – one minute the sun’s out, the next the clouds conspire to steal the light. My destination today – Tinto Hill – involves a day trip, but one I’m almost tempted to invent rather than venture 50 miles south east of the city. Does my physical presence matter, I ask myself, or could I simply make a virtual journey, pieced…